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heeliopheelia · 1 month

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding

a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least.

“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”

It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.

“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”

“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”

He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now.

“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully.

“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it.

He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there.

You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.

After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”

He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.

And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you.

“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again.

Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.

That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him.

“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further.

You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”

“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”

“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”

Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.”

“Really?”

Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”

You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”

He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”

“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”

PARK JAY

The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment.

His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.

Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you.

And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough.

“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?”

The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead.

“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.

“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”

“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly.

Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips.

Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut.

A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly.

With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly.

You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.

And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered.

You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace.

You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration.

There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?

Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles.

And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe.

You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck.

“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”

“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him.

He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry.

He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body.

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”

Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound.

He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few drops of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”

“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?”

“I love you.”

With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.

“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”

He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.

He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.

SIM JAKE

“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

You sit on the verge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending?”

He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”

“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”

Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.

You’re honestly getting tired of it.

“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom.

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”

“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure if I still want it.”

To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers.

“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”

You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.

Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles.

You feel awful.

Jake feels even worse.

Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair.

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”

At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting.

You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.

“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.”

“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.

“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”

The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible.

His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience again that for as long as you're with him.

“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything – even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago.

And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.

“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”

“Fucking- Fine.”

Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand.

You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl.

“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?”

You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”

“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”

The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him.

“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”

No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well.

“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”

With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more.

He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.

“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair.

He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.

So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”

You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest.

“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”

And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago.

He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again.

You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers.

“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”

You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago.

“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”

You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”

His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”

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finelinefae · 2 months

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flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]

synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop.

word count: 8.6k

content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N)

read part 2 here

my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !

. . .

Y/N had been having a terrible week.

She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.

People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.

But this week was not fun.

The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.

Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.

It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.

Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.

So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.

Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.

"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.

She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.

The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.

The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.

Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.

The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.

She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.

She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.

"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.

He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."

The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."

His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."

She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."

"M allergic to flowers." He said.

"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.

"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.

He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.

Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.

He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."

Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."

"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.

"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.

"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Yes." She nods.

"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."

She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.

"That's different."

"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.

"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.

"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."

Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."

He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.

He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."

She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.

"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.

Her entire face heats at the nickname.

***

The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.

She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.

When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.

Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.

After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.

She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.

Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.

It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.

She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.

"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.

At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.

Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.

At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.

She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.

The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.

Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.

"Excuse me please," she mumbled.

"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.

She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.

The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.

"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.

"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.

"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."

"Mine is." She said.

"What?"

"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.

His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.

"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.

Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.

Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.

"Is that your new girl Styles?"

"Nice one, H."

"Have fun Styles."

"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.

"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.

"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.

She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.

"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.

Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.

"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."

Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"

"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."

She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.

"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.

"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.

"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.

It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.

He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.

"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.

He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.

"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.

"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.

She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.

She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.

When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.

She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.

Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.

An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.

In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.

Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.

"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"

"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.

The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."

Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."

"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"

"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.

Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.

She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.

He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.

"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."

The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"

"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"

"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.

"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."

"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"

"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.

"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.

"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"

"He swore at me,"

"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."

"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.

"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."

"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."

"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wait, what? No."

"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.

"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."

Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.

All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."

"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.

The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.

"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.

"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.

Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.

"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.

He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."

"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."

"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.

"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.

"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.

"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."

"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.

"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.

"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.

"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.

She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.

"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.

"A-Are you sure?"

"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night.

It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall.

"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman.

"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her.

"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Mhm," He hummed.

"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms.

"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked.

"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly.

He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy."

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.

"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'"

"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm.

"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.

Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck. Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals.

"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear.

"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry.

"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did.

"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."

"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her.

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows.

"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."

"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.

"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.

"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"

"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."

"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.

"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.

Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does.

Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her.

With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.

"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.

"Why?" She can't help but ask.

He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is."

She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?"

Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."

. . .

Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door.

An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box.

"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching.

As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.

The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened.

Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair.

"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.

"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"

She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else.

When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.

His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine.

"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.

"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?"

Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss.

He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.

"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered.

She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed.

"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"

She nods without even thinking about it, "Please,"

He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"

She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything."

His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."

"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck.

Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck.

That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket.

She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin.

Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon.

She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now.

Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots.

The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.

Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.

Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her.

Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange.

Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower,"

"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed.

"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"

Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"

He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."

"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.

He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck.

After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"

Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.

Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?"

Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"

She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him.

Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"

"A little," She huffed.

"You're too cute."

Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips.

"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt.

Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"

"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.

"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface.

"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."

She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"

"Been intimate with someone."

She smiled.

She really, really liked him.

. . .

For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things.

Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.

When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning.

In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him.

Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard.

"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat.

She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo.

Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.

"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly.

"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom.

Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it.

With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth.

It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her.

Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve.

His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.

Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"

Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush."

"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something.

"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly.

Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.

Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."

Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?"

She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes.

"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh.

"Yes daddy," She murmurs.

Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave. Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.

"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.

"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty."

"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants.

"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.

Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers.

Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."

Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.

"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it.

"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb.

"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful.

"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole.

"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck.

"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut.

Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?"

"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-"

"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand."

At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.

She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.

"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises.

Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.

"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers.

Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."

"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting."

"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.

"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.

"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"

"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired."

"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest.

"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily.

"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.

psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #one direction #writing #harry styles writing

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jaylaxies · 7 months

Text

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

PAIRING: haechan × fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, brother’s best friend trope, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cunnilingus, penetration, breeding, usage of nicknames, themes of jealousy, mentions of mark (brother) and other dreamies, mentions of yunjin from le sserafim, Imk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 10k words

SYNOPSIS: mark was an overprotective brother and he didn’t fail to show it, warning all the guys to stay away from you, his best friends were no exception. so, how will you make it work when you return back after graduating school, only to find that your crush is paying more attention to you than ever? it most certainly doesn’t help that it’s lee donghyuck, to whom, you are strictly off limits.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my loves <3 i finally wrote a fic for the loml hyuckie <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

The music blasting from the speakers, reverberating around the room full of university students, the wretched smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes lingered in the air as your sharp eyes adorned with perfectly winged liner focused around the room, greeting everyone who was shocked to find you at the party.

It felt good to be back.

Leaving for a boarding school wasn’t on your bucket list, yet it was an opportunity you couldn’t miss, the school being a prestigious one with a degree that would only be helpful in the future, which left you no choice but to disappear for three years, only to suddenly reappear today, straight making an appearance at the party.

“Told you, your celebrity status is still intact,” Yunjin winked at you, her being the only friend who was stubborn enough to not break contact with you, and you loved her for the same.

Raising your brow at her, you took another swing of beer which you had loosely gripped in your hand, “it’s not mine, it all belongs to my brother,” you said, “I don’t want this attention, especially when it’s only valid because I’m Mark’s sister who had a glow up over my time of not being in the town.”

Your brother was well known in the university—the same university which you’d be attending soon along with the people who also attended the same middle school as you, however, his reputation preceded him as he, along with his friends, had turned into the group all girls desired to be with, yet they never let anyone stick around for long.

Settling down wasn’t their forte.

People snogging around every corner of the house wasn’t a sight you were willing to witness, granted you had a long flight and were tired. Not having any ride back home was another factor which made you approach your brother—who wasn’t locked up in a room with some girl for once.

“I wanna go home,” you huffed, standing next to Mark, who was quick to excuse himself from the conversation he was having.

“I can’t drive you back, I’m buzzed dude,” he says, “my baby sis is all grown up,” he looks your way, patting your head before you step back, disgusted at his overly affectionate big brother act.

He acted as if everything was normal when in reality, he was the one who always deprived you of every single thing, not allowing you to go out, not allowing you to meet boys, and most importantly, not letting his friends interact with you.

“Ew, drink this and sober up.” You passed on the water bottle in your hand to him, “how am I supposed to go back? Should I take a cab?”

“No, that’s not safe. You wait here, I’ll get my friend to drop you off,” he asked you to wait by the front door.

The shock on your face was evident, yet it was better to get a ride with one of his friends rather than fending for yourself this late at night. With a nonchalant nod, you walked away, waiting by the door.

It wasn’t hard for Mark to find his group, they were sprawled across the sofa as if they owned it, surrounded by girls sitting around them; or on their lap.

“Who’s not drunk here?” He asked, straight up eliminating Jeno from the list, who was taking big gulps from his can, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “minus Jeno.”

Haechan was quick to ignore the girl who was leaning down to kiss him, eyes tired yet lined with the perfect amount of eyeliner—a look he went for whenever a party was concerned.

“I am sober. Driver duties, why?” He asked.

Even though there was nothing but truth in his words, it would be hard to accept it, provided that his eyes were the perfect shade of brown which harboured the ideal amount of brightness during the day, and just the exact amount of intoxication at night.

“I had one beer,” Jaemin said, sitting with a bored expression on his face, probably not in the mood to entertain the girls at the given moment, unlike Jeno and Renjun, who basked in the attention of them.

“Y/n wants to go back home,” Mark explained, grabbing another can of beer, “and I obviously can’t go to drop her off.”

“Y/n? Is she back?” Hyuck asked, playing with his silver rings before unbuttoning the top of his black button up, exposing his chain clad neck and clavicle, which was valid given how hot the room was.

“Yeah, she came back in the afternoon today. Jaem can you drop her back home?” Jaemin chuckles at the offended look Haechan threw his way.

“Of course man,” Jaemin agreed.

“He’s drunk too, in case you overlooked that, I’m the sober one right now,” Hyuck said, pointing out the obvious.

“Yeah, dude there’s no way I’m letting you go alone with my sister,” Mark laughed, “lord knows you can’t keep it in your pants,” he added.

Hyuck was quick to raise his eyebrow, scoffing, pushing his tongue inside his cheek, “and he can?” He asked, pointing at Jaemin.

“He knows where to draw a line, unlike you, and she’s my baby sister, I’m not risking anything,” Mark explained enthusiastically, as if it was a joke, because it caused an uproar of laughter, which only infuriated Hyuck more.

“I know when to stop,” he said, annoyed.

“You didn’t know that when you fucked principal’s daughter,” Jeno provided.

“And when you did so in his office, with cameras installed,” Renjun not so helpfully added.

Hyuck agrees that they were right to a certain extent, but their lack of trust was always something that bothered him. If there was someone who actually didn’t know where to stop, that would be them, because he did not appreciate the insults thrown his way.

It also didn’t help how he genuinely wanted to see you, but now his mood was ruined, courtesy of Mark.

Mark then proceeded to list out a few more things as to prove that Hyuck wasn’t fit for being anywhere close to his sister, “I don’t trust you with her,” he shrugged, asking Jaemin to drop you off and ending the conversation.

Meanwhile, it had been a solid seven minutes and twenty six seconds since you started waiting for Mark’s friend to come and pick you up, and you made sure to put the time into good use by observing your surroundings yet again.

In the farther right corner, you spotted your old crush, Park Sunghoon, who was in your ethics class. He never paid attention to you, granted your brother made sure to warn the whole school population that you were off limits.

You couldn’t deny, it was good to see him happy and you swore you noticed him giggling too, talking to your old classmate, who you remember, was called Moon—one of the beauties of your school, before he pulled her into a sweet kiss.

Your observation was cut short when one of Mark’s friends, whom you had not seen in the past three years appeared in front of you with a small smile. Na Jaemin, he was charming from the bottom to the top.

“Welcome back, Y/n,” he smiled, voice slutry, which came naturally to him.

You offered him a smile in return, shamelessly checking him out, he had gotten buff. You were not expecting him to come here, but then again, your subconscious wanted to see that one boy whose eyes reminded you of honey.

You wondered how he looked now. Does he even remember you? A sigh left your glossy lips as you admitted that you still might have a teeny tiny crush on Lee Haechan after all this while, and deep inside, you wished to see him again.

With a smile, you followed him to the car as he engaged you in a conversation. It was probably the first time he had been given the permission to interact with you, and even he couldn’t deny, he loved to see the development, the confidence that you had come back with.

While you were getting back home, Haechan was fuming with anger, kicking the pavement as he had left the party, his mind formulating ideas for a plausible revenge against everyone. He was rebellious, he’d give himself that, yet in the depth of his heart, he meant well, not wanting to hurt anyone intentionally, only for the sake of having unharmed fun.

It wasn’t as if his friends were any different, so why should he be the one who’s labelled to be the worst of them all? This time, he wanted to hurt someone on purpose, the someone being Mark Lee.

Solution? Get as close to you as humanly possible—which would also mean that he’d have to work to get a place in your heart. But he didn’t mind it, especially when he had liked you all this while.

Mark wanted him to stay away? Tough luck because Hyuck wanted you.

Thinking about you reminded him of when you first met through Mark, he had priorly informed everyone to stay away from you, despite the fact you were in fifth grade, almost isolating you from the world. However, it wasn’t enough for Hyuck to stop greeting you with his gummy smiles, which caused you to smile back at him too.

That’s the most exchange you guys have had over these years. Hyuck was gonna change that, and so, he found himself walking towards your house, knowing well that Mark won’t be around to stop him, and your parents would be deep asleep given that it was past midnight.

Climbing up your room wasn’t hard, especially when he was aware of the ladder kept in your backyard, but being silent after entering your room through a window was tough.

The lights were dim, just how you liked it when you slept. With a few steps, Hyuck reached your bed, eyes fixated on your sleeping figure.

A small, genuine smile graced his face when he noticed the small pout on your moisturized lips. Adorable—that’s how he perceived you, yet there was no denying how much you had grown up to be prettier than ever, and he couldn’t help but caress your cheek with his thumb, even the slightest touch making you stir in your sleep, causing him to chuckle.

He had to have you.

You weren’t sure if it was a dream or had Hyuck actually visited you at night, though, the latter idea seemed nothing less than a delusion. Maybe it was your brain playing tricks with you, but it wasn’t your biggest concern at the given moment as you wanted nothing more than to freshen up and eat.

What you did not expect was to see your mom catering the four boys sprawled across your living room, the guy in your dream wasn’t anywhere to be seen still.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mom sweetly pulled you in her embrace, gaining the attention of your brother and his friends, who were sitting together playing some video games.

“Good morning, mum,” you smiled, having missed her while you were away for school.

“Yo, I almost forgot you were back for a second,” Mark commented as your mom asked everyone to sit down.

You looked at him with a sour expression, “yeah, right. Cause there was no one to tell you that you’re wearing two different designs of socks,” you pointed out, getting a snigger out of Jeno, who passed you a sweet smile when you looked his way, averting his gaze within a second, a habit of all his friends who weren’t allowed to stare at you.

“Or that you’re wearing your T-shirt inside out,” you scrunch your nose as others see a very clueless Mark trying to get everything in order, your mom also amused by the sudden liveliness in the home, “no, but how are you this unaware about yourself?” You mused.

Mark didn’t get to reply or whine when the front door opened to reveal the guy of your dreams, quite literally.

Lee Haechan came into the room as if he owned the place, your eyes fixated on his messy hair as he said hello to your mother, who was more than happy to see him here.

Hyuck was her favourite out of all Mark’s friends.

Other guys were quick to apologize to Hyuck, you wondered why, and Mark had apparently apologized on text last night for crossing the line.

He looked carefree and unbothered, so you didn’t ponder upon it much till he sat down next to you for breakfast, finally looking in your eyes.

You blinked once, focusing on his eyes which looked like they had honey swirling around them, his skin was tanned to the prettiest shade as he passed you a small smile, “hey, Y/n,” he acknowledged your presence, lips almost upturned into what seemed to be a smirk.

For a second, you couldn’t quite focus as you were too enthralled observing the beauty marks scattered across his face, his plump pink lips—

Yeah, that thought shook you awake, “hey, Haechan,” you greeted back, thinking that calling him Hyuck might just be too friendly.

“So, are we on for our trip tomorrow?” Jaemin asked, cutting your interaction short.

“Wait, what trip?” You asked, knowing that your parents were gonna be out for a business trip too, and you weren’t one to enjoy being home alone in such a big house.

“Didn’t Mark tell you?” Your mom asked and shook your head, throwing an accusatory look his way, “They all are having a stay in at Hyuck’s beach house.”

“And me? Am I supposed to be staying alone for what—how many days?” You asked.

“A week,” Mark informed, unaffected.

“I’m not staying home alone for a whole week, mum, this isn’t fair.” The distress was clear on your face.

“Call your friends over then,” your mom suggested.

“For a week? We’d rather go out for vacation too,” you pouted, not noticing the stare of two boys.

“Join the trip with Mark then,” she recommended, placing the fluffy pancake on your plate.

“What? Why? No,” Mark protested and the room bursted into a web of chaos with everyone discussing it.

Only Hyuck was silent, his eyes still on your face, admiring your side view shamelessly, but also careful not to give out his intentions in front of Mark.

“It’s a boys trip, mom. Y’know? Boy stuff,” he winced, trying to explain without explaining that all they planned on doing was drink, smoke and invite girls over, “guys, tell them?”

“Yeah—he’s right,” they all agreed, not maintaining eye contact, looking at each other awkwardly.

“Okay, since the beach house is Hyuck’s, why don’t we let him decide?” Your mom sighs, looking at Hyuck.

Now that the sole attention is on him, he tries to act clueless with a helpless look on his face, especially when you are looking at him with big eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Then he looked back at his friends, who clearly wanted the girl to go, minus Mark at least. Lastly, he looked at your mom, who only smiled, and that was enough of an excuse for Hyuck to say with the sweetest smile—

“Of course, Y/n and her friend are always invited.”

“He said yes,” you were on the phone, explaining the whole situation to Yunjin, knowing well that she’d be more than ready to accompany you for your rendezvous.

“He what?” She exclaimed, knowing that the boys would never take your side, especially in front of Mark.

“I know, mom sorta helped cause Haechan never says no to mom, it’s like he’s her favourite child or something,” a humorous laugh left your lips.

“Well, he will be once he becomes your boyfriend,” Yunjin gushed, “we’ll make sure he notices you this time, we’ve got a whole week to make it work.”

You had rushed up the stairs and into your room as soon as the decision had been made, followed by the loud complaints of Mark—which you did not bother to hear, calling Yunjin to fill her in with the situation instead.

She was packing as you were speaking.

In all honesty, it never crossed your mind that you would actually want to seduce Haechan, provided that he was Mark’s friend, which would lead to fights you definitely didn’t wish to be a part of, but you were an adult, so Mark held no authority over you.

There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun after all.

“I’m not giving you a ride,” Mark deadpanned when you got back downstairs, your mother looking at him with disappointment.

“I’ll take a cab then,” you rolled your eyes.

“No need, you’re taking two cars and it’s enough to fit you all,” your mom finally said, “who’s driving?”

“Me and Mark,” Hyuck replied, voice innocent as you turned to look his way, “Mark is taking the bigger one.”

“Is that so? All boys can go with Mark then. Won’t you give a lift to Y/n and Yunjin, Hyuck?” Your mom asked, knowing he won’t say no.

She was good at persuasion, unknowingly giving Haechan the full opportunity to be with you, which is exactly what he was aiming for in the first place.

Haechan only nodded earnestly, eyes almost shining as he looked back at you, “of course, you can ride with me,” he said, ignoring the glare thrown his way by Mark as your name rolled off his tongue, “Y/n.”

As if his voice and gaze wasn’t enough for you to stop breathing in a room full of people, the subtle smirk on his lips successfully had your knees buckling with anticipation.

Never in a million years you had thought that you’d be riding shotgun in Hyuck’s car, with him driving and humming along to songs under his breath. You had worn the shortest skirt you managed to find in your closet and the little trick had worked as you saw him staring at your legs when you first came downstairs, announcing that you and Yunjin were ready to leave for the trip.

Not only did it grab the attention of the boy you had been targeting, but also it garnered attention of Jaemin, who at least tried to act respectful by gulping and looking away.

Hyuck on the other hand believed that he should blatantly stare at the things which are to be admired, including your legs.

It didn’t take long for you guys to load your bags into his car, as the other one left ten minutes before you guys. Yunjin wasn’t a fan of long drives—two hours in your case, so she put on her AirPods and closed her eyes the second she got into the back seat, also to give you privacy with Haechan.

He drove with one hand, the other resting on his thigh. The rings and chain adorning his body caught your attention for a second too long. His hands were definitely bigger than yours, veins popping out whenever he gripped the steering wheel.

The aura around him was too strong, as if he was a magnet ready to pull everyone towards him, you were no exception.

“Like the rings, darling?” He asked, eyes on the road with the corner of his lip upturned.

The question successfully broke your train of thoughts. It was probably the first conversation you had with him, excluding the usual greetings.

And he kick-started it by calling you darling.

“They’re pretty,” you replied, not letting the nickname phase you, despite heat creeping up your neck.

His smile widened at your answer and he swiftly got a ring off his finger, passing it to you—again, without even looking your way.

“They’ll look prettier on you,” he says ever so smoothly, and you bite your lips, trying to stop the smile from widening as your fingers brush against his, taking the ring and inspecting the design, “don’t wear that in front of the boys though, they’ll flip.”

An amused chuckle left your lips, something which Haechan did not expect, “why? Still scared of Mark and his empty threats?” You asked.

He pissed you off too much with his don’t come near my sister or I’ll make your life a living hell threat to others, and you were bitter about it.

“Now, why would I be scared of Mark?” He scoffed.

“Because you’re one of his friends who aren’t even allowed to look my way,” you said as a matter of fact, breath hitching the second you felt his fingers on your thigh, the warmth of his palm juxtaposing the cold metal of his rings.

The car was stopped at the red light, “I’ve always looked you in the eye, sweetheart,” he whispered, confirming his statement by turning his head and staring right into your eyes, the tension palpable as your gazes locked, the look being too alluring for you to break the eye contact.

His whole demeanour changed in a second when his serious expression morphed into a sweet smile, the kind that makes you melt right before he shifted his focus back on the road as if he hadn’t just provided you a sliver of hope about him being interested in you.

He, however, didn’t bother moving his hand which was gripping your thigh lightly, his fingers were long and looked exceptionally pretty on your skin. You couldn’t help but look out of the window, trying not to let your thoughts get out of hand.

It certainly didn’t help that he was singing explicit romantic songs with all his might while your best friend was sleeping peacefully in the backseat.

Haechan loved every single reaction he got out of you, your little shivers when he caressed your thigh, your breath hitching for the very same reason midway a conversation, and your sweet blabber as you he initiated a conversation.

“How was school?” He asked after a while.

The conversation flowed smoothly after, the ride wasn’t long after all, his hand caressing your thigh throughout the journey, and you wished for it to be longer.

The beach house wasn’t a house apparently, but a mansion with how grand it was. Meaning, everyone would easily get their own rooms. Mark’s car was already parked as they reached earlier, but you saw Jaemin coming out when he heard the sound of Hyuck’s car, helping you take the bags inside with his ever so charming smile while Yunjin and you silently gushed about the beach view.

Others were busy preparing for the party that was to be held at night—which was news to you.

The interior was in the shades of black, white, and greys, matching Haechan’s personality in a peculiar manner, given that he was filled with colours of all sorts.

You and Yunjin selected the adjacent rooms on the first floor, the balcony giving you a pretty view wasn’t something you’d want to miss out on. Haechan occupying the room which was right in front of your room is another thing which boosted your excitement.

The next few hours flew by as you rested on the beach with Yunjin, soaking up warmth of the sand with the cold ocean waves reaching your toes. It felt peaceful.

“So, what are you gonna wear to woo Haechan today?” Yunjin asked, sipping on her iced beverage.

The sun was about to set, your eyes never leaving the sky which displayed all shades of red, yellow and orange, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that there’s no way they won’t be inviting girls, it was supposed to be a boys trip after all to get their dicks wet,” she said as a matter of fact.

You winced again, not having it in you to watch your brother surrounded by girls.

“And if Haechan was flirting with you, then it’s your chance to flirt back now, given that Mark would be drunk beyond the point of recovery. Not to mention how you’ll have to do something so he doesn’t stray off and give attention to other girls,” Yunjin listed out.

She was right, it wasn’t like you were going to get this chance again, “red dress or black dress?” You asked with a playful smile and she squealed, rushing you into your room to help you get ready.

The music was blaring by the time you applied the last swatch of lipstick, smacking your lips for the colour to blend in perfectly, complementing your skin tone ever so perfectly. Yunjin doing the same beside you.

You weren’t sure how they managed to gather all this crowd for a party, granted you guys didn’t even live here, yet who would question these boys, an online invite and people would come running to attend their parties.

Which was the case at the given moment as well. The second you stepped out from your assorted room, you found Jeno practically eating a girl’s face off with how passionately they were kissing right beside the door, the music blaring in the background as you tried to overcome the initial shock of seeing your brother’s friend going what you’d consider wild.

Making your way downstairs, you put on your best confident expression, your eyes immediately looking around, trying to find a certain black haired guy.

Yunjin stopped you, pointing at the corner of the room where Hyuck was sitting with girls surrounding him, Renjun right next to him, a scoff of disbelief leaving your lips when one of them oh so comfortably sat down on his lap, his arm wrapping around her waist so naturally.

Yet you couldn’t deny just how effortlessly attractive he looked in that black button up, the first few buttons undone to reveal his chest. The eyeshadow enhancing the look of his eyes to appear more slutry than they already seemed to be.

Great. This is what you came on this trip for—to see Hyuck tilting the chin of a random girl, shoving his tongue inside her mouth.

This won’t do, you averted your gaze, going straight to get alcohol, any kind would do, you just needed a boost of confidence to work upon your plan. Yunjin knew exactly what you were up to, winking at you before wandering off in the crowd.

“Not dancing tonight?” Jaemin asked, standing right next to you as he poured himself a drink.

His presence made your job easier, especially when he looked so good tonight. His dark hair was a little messy, sleeves rolled up as he was clad in all black, a simple chain adorning his slender neck.

Perfect bait to get a reaction out of Haechan.

If he’d bother to look your way, that is.

“Talking to me tonight? Not scared of my brother anymore?” Your lips curled up, amused.

That earned a laugh out of him, “he’s locked up in a room as we speak,” he said over the music. Translation: he was busy fucking someone and he won’t be here to monitor your moves.

Your nose scrunched, not wanting to think about your brother doing the deed. Jaemin walked alongside you as you took up his offer to dance, but also made sure that you could see Haechan clearly with your spot.

His eyes turned your way for the first time tonight the second you started moving your body along to the rhythm. The distance was fair, yet it felt as if you were the only person in this room and he was the only spectator to your actions.

Jaemin’s hand came to rest on your waist, your body in sync with his moves, the proximity close and a blissful expression on your face.

Again, you subtly looked Hyuck’s way, only to find his eyes darker than ever, not straying away from you for even a second, the girl on his lap long forgotten as he couldn’t find a reason to give her his attention anymore.

Not when you were dancing with Jaemin, not when your dress rode up, revealing your thighs, not when Jaemin whispered in your ear and you giggled, getting closer to him.

He couldn’t stand it, the muscle in his jaw clenched, his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek with annoyance bubbling up in his body.

You turned around, only to find Haechan missing from the spot he was sitting at. All of a sudden, you excused yourself from Jaemin and made your way around the room, to find him again and you failed to do so.

The room’s atmosphere got stuffy as the night progressed and you made your way upstairs to your room in need of fresh air which was very well provided by the grand balcony.

Just as you twisted the door knob, getting inside the room, you gasped as Hyuck closed the door behind you, pushing you against the wooden surface of the door, his scent taking over your senses seamlessly as you breathed in deeply.

“Hyuck—” you whispered, hyper aware of how close he was to you, his body pressed against yours in a way you could feel his torso muscles. His face tilted ever so slightly, just enough for your noses to brush against each other.

The position alone sent you into a state of frenzy, and he didn’t even let you finish speaking out his name as he chuckled darkly.

“Didn’t know you were into Jaemin, darling,” he whispered, causing you to gulp down the nervousness, which was of no use as your knees felt even weaker with his slender finger tracing your cheek, stopping right by your lips, “dancing with him while wearing the ring that I gave you.” His thumb caressing your bottom lip, parting it ever so slightly, “doesn’t really sound fair to me now, does it, baby?” He asked, stopping his actions and looking your right in the eye.

You couldn’t show him how affected you were with possessiveness laced tone, “I don’t see how it’s unfair, Haechan,” you smiled sweetly, keeping your hand on his chest.

“Wrong,” he said in a beat, “his intentions aren’t pure,” he provided.

You chuckled, turning your face to the side for a second, “what about your intentions?” You dared to ask.

His hold on you tightened, “you wanna know my intentions?” He asked, voice so low it gave you goosebumps as he moved even closer to you, his lips on the verge of touching yours.

They never fully touched, your hand becoming a barrier between you two, “maybe some other day,” you whispered, the expression in his eyes unreadable, “someday when you don’t come here with tainted lips after kissing god knows how many girls,” you smiled tightly, pushing him aside, the alcohol only providing you with unadulterated courage.

He pulled you back, hand wrapped around your wrist so his torso was pressed against your back, which vibrated with his chuckles, “didn’t know it bothered you that much, pretty,” his lips touched your earlobe.

“It doesn’t,” you seethed out, trying not to sound breathless as you shrugged out of his hold, “besides, we mean nothing to each other. I won’t stop you from snogging anyone and you can’t stop me from dancing with anyone.”

That’s all you said before slipping out of his grasp, rushing in and closing the bathroom door behind you and breathing in deeply. The feeling of his touch still lingering on your body, he was jealous as you were and he was so close.

So close to kissing you.

Hyuck leaned against the door on the opposite side of you, “we mean nothing to each other?” He scoffed under his breath, the image of Jaemin’s hands on your waist coming back to his mind. He was wrong to pay attention to someone else, he admits, but now he was determined to give you all his attention.

“You’re mine, you just don’t know that yet,” he says, knowing you won’t be able to hear him, “all mine,” his tone was possessive still as he walked out of the room.

The boys woke up all hungover the next morning, while you and Yunjin snuck out of the mansion before others woke up, only to avoid Hyuck, which was almost funny given that you were here to get his attention.

Regardless, you sat in this cute cafe you found nearby, explaining the whole situation to your best friend. The slight smirk on her face gave away the fact that she was proud of you for not giving him attention last night. It’ll only make him want you more, she had said.

Mark called you right after you finished your meal, “where are you?” He asked, panicked, “don’t tell me you got kidnapped,” the horror was clear in his voice and you rolled your eyes, not understanding how his brain worked.

“I literally left a note on the fridge that I’ll be out for lunch and shopping, Mark,” you explained, almost laughing when you heard him say oh. He was standing right in front of the fridge apparently.

“Right, have fun,” he said, hanging up the call.

He wasn’t the best brother but he did care. At times, more than he needed to.

“Okay so here’s the plan,” Yunjin started to explain. She loved giving out ideas and they always worked, which is why you found yourself in the swimsuit store, purchasing the one which flattered your body in the best manner.

“And don’t lock your room at night. Knowing Haechan, he would definitely give you a little visit after seeing you pull that stunt.”

The sun was setting and you were almost back at the mansion. You enjoyed the day and it was a great plan to get Hyuck out of your head, even though it wasn’t possible despite the fact that it had been only two days since you came back and met him again.

Tonight’s plan was to have a bonfire by the beach, grill meat and have a good time. Mark had finally accepted and asked everyone to tone down and make the trip more family friendly, hence the bonfire.

The place was empty when you got back in, and you saw the boys setting up the barbecue when you changed into your dress before making your way to join them.

“Remember the plan?” Yunjin asked and you nodded, loving the feel of cold sand beneath your foot.

Hyuck was the first one to notice your presence, his dark eyes fixated on your figure as you walked towards them, Jaemin being the second one as he smiled your way, to which you smiled back sweetly.

You still had Hyuck’s ring on as you approached the place where Hyuck and Jaemin were grilling the meat, Mark was sitting down and playing his guitar while Jeno and Renjun sang along to the song, Yunjin being a great singer also joined those three.

“Can I have a taste?” You asked, looking at Jaemin with hopeful eyes.

The weather was cold yet the burning stare of a certain someone had you feeling all kinds of warmth, yet you didn’t look his way.

“Of course, say ah,” Jaemin said, eyes shining as he held the piece of meat for you and you gladly accepted it, your lips touching his fingers in a caress, the juicy taste making you hum out in pleasure.

In a second, you were turned around, “there’s something on your lips,” Hyuck muttered, expression stoic as he brushed his thumb on your lower lip, “all cleaned.”

You would have laughed at the jealousy had his action not been so intimidating, as if he was warning you not to do this.

“Thanks,” you said, voice extra sweet before you looked back at Jaemin who was confused at the exchange, “can I have more?” You asked.

“Here.” Hyuck shoved a plate in your hands before Jaemin could even reply, “enjoy your food,” he said, smiling but his eye twitched in the process, making you bite your lower lip to contain your laugh yet again and you sat down finally.

“Do you think the water would be cold right now?” Jeno asked no one in general, his intrusive thoughts winning.

“Why? Wanna take a dip?” Mark asked with a laugh, eyebrows raising once he realized that Jeno was serious about it.

“It’ll be fun,” he said as everyone laughed around him.

“There’s no light out here, Jeno,” Renjun said.

“It’ll be fun.”

“The waves are strong too,” Mark reasoned.

“It’ll be fun.”

“Okay, his vocabulary is limited,” Hyuck said, sitting by you as Jaemin handed over the plates to everyone, Mark sparing a glance to make sure Hyuck didn’t sit too close to you.

“We can go one hour after eating, just dip our toes in,” Yunjin suggested and you guys agreed as Mark resumed playing his guitar.

“Have more, Y/n.” Jaemin smiled, giving you more pieces to eat from his own plate.

Haechan didn’t remember the last time he felt so pissed over something this small, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It had been two whole days since you made your comeback in his life but those two days were enough for him to want you, granted he did have a crush on you for the longest time, only now it wasn’t just your sweetness he was attracted to.

“Thank you, nana,” you beamed, the nickname only infuriating Hyuck more while you could see Jaemin blush faintly and you truly wondered how all these goofballs pulled girls so easily.

“Nana,” Hyuck mocked under his breath, Yunjin noticing the atmosphere and slightly pushing you towards him.

“You’re doing brilliantly,” she whispered, “he looks like he’ll blow up anytime now.”

It felt nice, sitting in front of the bonfire while listening to others singing. You knew you were trying to make Hyuck jealous yet it was hard not to stare at his face, which basked in the glow of fire. He was already looking your way, noticing how you still had his ring on, which only tempted him to pull you on his lap, yet he knew it was impossible with your brother monitoring his every move.

“Let’s go into the water,” Jeno repeated, as Mark smirked.

“On the count of one, two,” he said, and didn’t even finish before your eyes widened as your brother came to pick you up in hopes of throwing you into the cold water.

Mark was escapable. Jeno on the other hand, not so much and it didn’t help how they both had lifted you up despite your thrashing and whining and ran towards the water.

“Mark I swear I’ll kill you—” you warned and Yunjin had the time of her life recording this whole scene.

Renjun continuously reminded the boys to stay safe while also doing god’s work by providing you with the flashlight set on the highest setting from his phone.

Within a second, you were screaming and thrashing as the boys dropped you into the cold water, laughing and doing the same with a horrified Renjun before rushing towards the mansion, especially Mark, leaving you all cold.

Hyuck rushed to close the flashlight.

You were wearing white, and the water only made your clothes look transparent, which is why Hyuck was taking his jacket off, but yet again, Jaemin was quick to wrap his leather jacket around your shivering frame.

He was glad that you were covered but the annoyance was clear on his face, the amusement long gone even with you muttering and plotting Mark and Jeno’s murder with Renjun.

Nor did he enjoy the sight of Jaemin taking you back to the villa, acting all protective as if he was your knight in shining armour.

“You’re making it so obvious that you’re jealous,” Yunjin quipped, noticing how everyone walked ahead of them, rushing to the mansion.

He laughed out, ending it with a scoff, “I have no reason to be,” he said, voice calm, “she’s mine anyways,” he shrugged, determination clear in his eyes.

“Wow, you’re not even scared to admit it out loud? What if Mark hears?” She asks and Hyuck’s expression sours.

“He wouldn’t approve. That’s a given but that’s not enough to stop me,” he shrugged yet again.

“Okay Mr. Someone is stealing your girl as we speak though,” Yunjin pointed out, a fake sympathetic scowl on her face.

Haechan hated feeling this way, the feeling where things do not go his way. He hadn’t felt this way since—forever. He had everything he wanted, but not you. Mark being a hindrance is something he considered to be normal till some extent, but Jaemin? That’s unacceptable.

“I’ll take care of it.”

It was one in the morning and you were wrapped up in a blanket, sitting down near the balcony to observe the spectrum of stars which you could have sworn were shining.

Being thrown into the water wasn’t the best experience per se, but you knew it would soon turn into a funny memory you guys would look back at someday in the future. Yet, it wasn’t something you were thinking about much, granted you had better things to ponder about.

Lee Haechan.

You well expected him to show at least a sliver of reaction, some sort of outburst during the evening, however it never came. Either he was plotting revenge or he simply didn’t care enough. Or he was trying to keep it in, your mind tried to reason with you.

You sighed, getting up and closing the sliding doors of the big balcony in hopes of getting a cozy sleep. You needed that warmth after all. Just as you dropped the blanket on the bed, the door swung open—which shouldn’t have happened, given that you were sure you had locked it.

Haechan entered the room, closing the door behind him and you couldn’t help but stand at your place, shocked at his sudden appearance, “how did you—”

“It’s my place, I can get in and out anytime I want,” he replied, voice smooth, giving you goosebumps as he walked closer to you.

He was clad in sweatpants and a white T-shirt, the attire was simple, yet he made it look a hundred times more attractive than the usual.

“Oh,” you breathed out, the dim lights of the room caused his skin to glow a beautiful shade of golden.

There wasn’t a single ounce of jealousy on his face, rather, he looked content with the setting, settling down and sitting on the corner of the bed, his dark eyes staring at you, the silence louder than ever.

“Uhm, so—did you want something?” You asked, wincing at your tone as you suddenly felt conscious under his gaze, slightly aroused too, not knowing what he was actually here for.

He clicked his tongue, looking away for a second before his eyes settled on you for the second time.

Hyuck gave you no time to process anything as his hands grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him in a single hard tug, which had your body stumbling forward and right on his lap.

He held on to your waist, helping you stabilize your balance, “what’s wrong, princess? You were so confident, getting cozy with Jaemin, huh?” He raise his brow, letting the possessiveness show on his face, the I don’t give a fuck facade disappearing.

Your breath hitched with the movement of his fingers on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on the part where your top had ridden up to expose your skin.

“He was just being nice,” you breathed out, shivering slightly.

He rolled his eyes at your statement, a scoff leaving his lips before he leaned in, earning a gasp out of you. His nose caressed yours, and you were scared to move, his lips hovering above yours.

“Just being nice my ass,” he clicked his tongue yet again, and suddenly you were hyper aware about the fact that you were breathing in the same air, “you wanted to know my intentions, right, princess?” He asked, “then listen, I want you all to myself,” his tone was raspy, your fingers digging into his shoulders for support, “don’t think I didn’t notice your subtle glances towards me, especially when you were with Jaemin,” he chuckled and you gulped, looking elsewhere.

He was quick to grab your chin, making you look right in his eyes, “trying to get me jealous, darling? Well, good for you, it fucking worked.”

“Hyuck—” you whimper, your body heating up as you realized you were sitting right on his crotch.

“Shh, bad girls don’t get to talk,” he shook his head, disappointed, “now what do we do about this? Maybe I’ll just have to claim your body to make you understand that you don’t need to make me jealous to have all my attention,” he suggested.

You could feel the wetness down in your lacy panties and he hadn’t even touched you. Something about the way his voice came out so luscious, something about the way his touch made you feel like putty, something about his eyes made you feel mesmerized.

“Tell me, baby. Can I mark you mine?” He asked and you felt your heart flutter, his voice was gentle when he asked for your consent, and you couldn’t hold back from wanting him anymore, nodding gently, “use your words, love,” he urged, lips parted.

“Yes,” you whispered, grabbing on to him as he bit your lip, eliciting another gasp out of you, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Yeah? You sure you can handle it?” He asked and you tugged on to his collar, impatiently pulling you to him.

“Let’s find out,” you mumbled.

Without any more delay, you closed the distance between you both, his hand coming to rest on your nape, tilting your head to kiss you passionately, his tongue brushing over your lips, parting them with ease for your tongue to graze the tip of his own.

The room felt misty as you continued to kiss, his kisses getting more possessive by second, thinking about how no one else should have you, that you belong to him. He picked you up with ease, putting you underneath him on the bed, his kisses trailing down as you took a deep breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled midway kisses, some were long, especially the ones around your clavicle and neck region while the others were feather soft, driving you insane to the point of no return. It only ascended when his fingers finally lifted up your top, exploring the expanse of your skin with teasing touches.

Your back arched as soon as he caresses the area under your tits, before cupping them fully, leaning back to get rid of your top altogether. You couldn’t shy under his gaze, the way he looked at you only boosted your confidence, as if he was a predator hungry for a meal and you were his precious prey, all ready to be devoured.

He had no time to waste, his mouth working fast to lean down, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples, noticing how you react to his each touch, fondling your other tit, hearing you whimper and beg for more, his name chanting on your lips out of sheer pleasure.

“It’s so fucking cute how your body reacts to every little touch of mine,” he whispered, biting your earlobe in the process, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he stuffed his pretty fingers inside your shorts, chuckling when he realizes how soiled your lacy panties had gotten, “fuck, I wanna taste that pretty cunt,” he says, taking off his T-shirt before doing the same to your shorts, dragging your panties down alongside it.

You found yourself drooling at the sight of Hyuck’s muscles, he had started going to the gym and the results were clearly visible on his body, but you were ripped out of your thought train when he bit your inner thigh, causing you to clench around nothing, giving you kisses and licks all over, but not touching the part where you needed him the most.

“P—please,” you cried out of frustration, and he immersed himself, licking a big stripe of your wet cunt, genuinely loving the taste as he hummed with satisfaction, holding your thighs open with his strong arms, “oh god,” you moaned out, causing him to smirk against your wetness, pressing sweet kisses to your clit.

It felt like heaven when you were being destroyed by the demon himself.

Hyuck was hard, his thick cock barely containing itself from splitting your pussy into two, but he wanted to see you fall apart on his tongue first, “your cunt,” he said, licking it to make a point, “belongs to me,” he whispered and you nodded.

“It’s yours—all yours!”

“That’s my good fucking girl, you’re all mine,” he said, his tongue prodding at your entrance, fucking your pussy, which gave you more pleasure than you had ever felt through your life.

It didn’t take long for you to feel your lower abdomen tightening, your fingers tugging on his silky black roots as he ate you out like a madman, as if he was drunk in the essence of your pussy. With a cry, you found yourself falling apart all over his tongue and he lapped it up, coming to kiss you right after, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. He knew you’d be overstimulated, but that’s exactly what he was aiming for when he finally pulled out his cock. You knew he’d be thick, but you underestimated him still, knowing well his cock wouldn’t fit in your cunt.

“Gonna claim you mine,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours as he positioned himself on your entrance, “fuck, you’re all mine,” he said, kissing you deeply to absorb all yours moans as he pushed himself inside you.

Your wetness helped him, yet he had to thrust in a few times to bottom out and could feel yourself clenching around him uncontrollably, loving the stretch and also the fact that he was twitching inside of you.

His fingers grabbed your hips in a tight hold as he started pistoning into you at a pace which you hadn’t expected, and you were sure you looked crazy with how your eyes were teary, your hair a mess and your lips swollen, courtesy of the boy who groaned and slapped your cunt, fucking you deeper.

“That’s it, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he praised and you let out broken sentences which he couldn’t comprehend, you were too gone, pushed into your subspace to the point you simply let Hyuck do all the work, moaning and whimpering for him, trying to keep your noises at bay in case anyone wakes up.

Just when you both were about to read your high, he stopped fucking you, making you whimper out in distress, only to have you flipped with your ass up and head down on the pillow.

It didn’t take him a second before he was entering your cunt again, fucking you from behind in hopes of giving you the brutal backshots you deserved, to fuck you in a way that you’ll be ruined forever, not even wanting to go back to another guy for their cock.

This also gave him the perfect opportunity to spank your ass, the hurt only making you clench around him harder.

“Fuck—I’m so—so close,” you sobbed, voice coming out muffled and Hyuck rubbed your clit to stimulate you further.

“Go on, baby. Give me everything,” he urged and you both finally let go, groaning and whining as he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with your juices.

It felt as if the universe had blessed you with the highest amount of unadulterated pleasure one could have, and your eyes closed shut as Hyuck lay down next to you, breathing in and out just as quick as you to regain his strength to breathe properly.

“Y/n,” he whispered, more gently this time, pulling you into a sweet kiss as you smiled into it, finding it amusing that he was the same guy who brutally fucked you not even a few minutes back, “you really are mine, yeah?” He said, caressing your cheek.

“Yeah?” You asked in a whisper and he nodded earnestly, getting a washcloth and helping you into the bathroom, feeling proud when you couldn’t stand up properly.

He was sweet. Sweeter than you had ever expected him to be and that’s why you found yourself kissing him again, and again as you both washed up in the shower, turning it to the point you both couldn’t help but giggle, his forehead resting against yours.

“I really do like you, baby,” he whispered.

“I really like you too, Hyuck,” you replied, feeling happier than you had ever felt, spending a while in his embrace, talking and kissing and eventually, falling asleep in his arms as you both smiled faintly, even in your deep slumber.

Hurt.

That’s what your body felt the second you blinked open your eyes. Images from last night revisiting you as a montage, a small smile lingered on your face, discarding the fact that you were disappointed, not having Hyuck by your side when you woke up, but then again, it was still better than getting caught by Mark.

With the support of the bedside tables, you managed to stand up on your wobbly feet, stablizing yourself before going into the bathroom to freshen up, you needed that long bath to soothe down your muscles.

Now wrapped up in your bath robe, you passed by the door, only to hear the sound of someone arguing. Curiosity got the best of you as you walked back, twisting the knob to open it just the right amount for it to not be noticeable, gladly the door opened seamlessly.

“Stop playing with her feelings,” Jaemin whisper-yelled, and your heartbeat rose when you saw how it was directed towards Hyuck.

“Who the fuck even said I’m playing with her?” Hyuck asked, his voice full of exasperation and anger.

Jaemin scoffed, you hadn’t seen that expression on his face, ever. “So you’re just gonna go around fucking her right after Mark told you, specifically might I add, to stay away from her. What are you trying to do here? Take revenge by proving a point?”

Your heart dropped hearing that sentence. Sneaking around made sense because Mark would, without any doubts, be against this setting, but what revenge was Jaemin talking about? When did Mark ask Hyuck to stay away from her, specifically at that?

“That’s none of your business,” Hyuck replied, teeth gritted, “besides, weren’t you the one begging for her attention by putting up your good boy act? We aren’t that different, Jaemin,” he mocked, “you only want her cause she’s Mark’s sister.”

Your lip wobbled at his confession, he hadn’t agreed to Jaemin’s claims yet he hadn’t denied it either and suddenly you didn’t feel comfortable, all the positive energy drained as you rushed to get dressed, to get out.

You trusted Hyuck too easily, and you knew you’d have to confront him about this, but you didn’t feel like doing it now. You wanted to go back home, alone, to deal with your inconvenience which would bother you for a while now.

So you did what you had to do: run away from your problems.

You texted Mark that you’d be taking his car, also mentioning it to Yunjin that you’ll be going back home, as you rushed to get dressed up and sneak out of the place without Hyuck knowing, and you were successful in doing so, sighing as soon as you started driving back.

Hyuck thought you were sleeping in, and he couldn’t enter your room with everyone being awake and roaming around, especially when Jaemin knew what you two had done last night.

The reminder only made him smile, as cliche as it sounds, he had never felt this way with other girls, your little confession only made his heart beat faster. You liked him back, and that’s all that mattered.

“Yo, why did Y/n leave? She’s not picking up the calls either?” Hyuck heard Mark ask Yunjin, who knew exactly what was up.

“She’s got some work to take care of, you don’t have to worry about it,” Yunjin patted his shoulder before making her way out to the beach to call you again. She knows you want space, but she also knows you like it when she checks up on you.

Now, that was news to Hyuck, his eyes widening as he rushed to open the door to your room, only to find you weren’t actually there.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, getting his phone out and calling you, only for it to get declined, “no, fuck,” he groaned, thinking about if he upset you in any way, yet he couldn’t understand why you’d leave, especially when you were so happy when you went to sleep.

Or maybe she heard you talking to Jaemin, his subconscious spoke up, making him lose his mind and punch the wall next to him, running down the stairs to follow Yunjin, calling out her name which caused her to pause and remove her sunglasses.

“Where is Y/n?” He asked, breathing heavily.

“Are you playing with her feelings?” She asked instead of replying to his question, “cause if that’s the case then I don’t care if we’re staying at your mansion, I’ll have to kick and break your baby making machine.” Her smile was threatening.

“Oh god, that’s not it!” Hyuck was frustrated, “I’ve liked her since we were kids, I'm not joking around,” he said earnestly, “is she upset, why did she leave?”

Yunjin watched the boy with amusement in her eyes, “you’re so dumb actually. If you like her enough then why aren’t you running after her right now? Get in your car and get your girl, shoo,” she dismissed him and Hyuck didn’t wait to chat about how she shouldn’t shoo him away, rather, he ran to grab his car keys, not paying attention to Renjun who asked why he was in such a hurry.

Hyuck didn’t want any miscommunications whatsoever, it had been an hour since you had left, and it’ll probably be impossible to cover that distance in a short while so he decided to drive faster and get to your place.

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me,” he muttered to himself, trying to call you again.

You weren’t dating. It had barely been a week since you came back, a few days since he had started to get to know this new side of you and he didn’t want it to stop, not when he’s genuinely liked you for so long, minus his fuckboy ways of course.

Mark had tried to call him a few times too, sensing that something was up, yet Hyuck didn’t pick up those calls, focusing on driving till he finally reached your place, relieved to see Mark’s car parked there.

He knew there was an extra key under the third potted plant on the entrance, and that’s exactly what he took and opened the door. The living room was empty, which caused him to rush up the stairs to find you in your room, his chest heaving up and down.

The sudden voice startled you, your mouth going dry at the sight of Hyuck.

You couldn’t avoid him after all.

“Hyuck, is everything okay? What are you doing here—why are you here?” You asked, pretending to be okay.

“Did you hear us in the morning?” He asked, eyes softer than you had ever seen.

You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped, gulping down your emotions before staring at your feet, “I did,” you whispered, “but it’s fine, Hyuck. The sex was great—”

You didn’t look up while rambling, and it was cut short when Hyuck pulled you into his embrace, warmth spreading all over your body with how he held you close to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so broken seeing someone’s face, and he couldn’t handle that it was because of him that you felt this hurt.

“That’s not true,” he whispered, holding you tighter, you could feel tears forming in your eyes.

“N—no one’s ever approached me because of Mark,” your voice came out muffled, and Hyuck leaned back slightly just to look at your face, his thumb wiping the stray tear that cascaded down your cheek, “i felt like no one wanted to befriend me for me, all girls wanted to get to him through me and all the boys were so scared,” you laughed pathetically, knowing that your story wasn’t even sob worthy, “but you were the only one who still talked to me, even if it was just greeting me, asking me about my day,” you let out your breath.

“Baby,” Hyuck cupped your cheeks.

“You were the only exception, Hyuck. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve always liked you so much. So tell me, was it all a joke?” You asked, eyes serious.

“It wasn’t,” he shook his head, gulping down before explaining it to you, “it happened at the party when I offered to drop you home but Mark was against it, thinking that I would use you to only fuck you, but that was not my intention I swear,” he says with a frown.

“So that’s what you did,” your voice barely came out, it sounded broken.

“God—no. No. I could never do that to you,” he felt helpless, trying to word his sentence properly, “I’ve liked you since we were kids, and I was heartbroken when you switched schools and cities. But I just got so excited when Mark told us that you were back—I wanted to see you, talk to you, but Mark only gave me a reminder that I couldn’t have you.”

You listened to him, your heart undoubtedly fluttering with how earnest his eyes looked, how the distress of being denied of you flashed clearly on his face.

You really wanted to kiss him.

“And when he gave all those permissions to Jaemin, I couldn’t help it. I never had revenge in my mind Y/n. I like you too much to hurt you, and I know we’re not even dating right now, but I don’t want anyone to ruin it for us even before our story starts and I swear to god I’ll fight Mark if it means that I can have you,” he breathed out, cheeks flushed as he had confessed to someone for the very first time.

You broke into a smile despite the tears in your eyes, “you promise?” You held up your pinky finger.

He laced his pinky finger with yours, tugging it so you stumble slightly, and he takes it as an opportunity to pull you into a deep kiss, his soft lips caressing yours in a possessive hold, promising that he’ll take care of you.

“Good, cause I was going to be really upset if you didn’t,” you mumbled against his lips.

He chuckled before saying, “don’t ever run away from me, yeah?”

You nodded, hugging him back tighter as you felt your anxiety calming down, your smile widening as he kissed your forehead, easing out your worries and you were sure you wanted to give it a try—you wanted to give you both a try.

Yet another problem lingered in your mind.

“So, about Mark,” you winced, knowing it’ll be disastrous.

“Shh, we’ll think about him later,” he mumbled, but the peacefulness wasn’t here to stay for long as a loud voice boomed up, indicating that Jaemin had snitched.

“Lee fucking Donghyuck, I told you to stay away from my sister!” Mark shouted, your eyes widening as you both looked at each other.

“Fuck, hide!”

Despite the chaos of hiding in your closet, you knew that Hyuck would always be your exception.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

TAGGING: @ajayke-reads @jenoslutie @jjaeyuns @heesuncore @celeste-hoon

#fic : the only exception #haechan smut #haechan angst #haechan au #haechan x reader #nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #donghyuck smut #nct 127 smut #haechan scenarios #nct fanfic #lee haechan smut

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toxicanonymity · 8 months

Text

needs

3.3k, joel miller x virgin f!reader

joel master list

Summary: Joel wants to find a bed before you go all the way, but neither of you can wait that long.

A/N: Follows ✨ Fires (1.6, prequel), Aches (900), and Thoughts (1.6), but can read alone.

WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (20/50s), still only one sleeping bag, pining, c*ck hunger, fingering, grinding, masturbation, oral m receiving, cum eating, unsafe P in V, reluctantly pulling out, loss of virginity, pet names, praise, POV alternates, NO Y/N.

“God have mercy,” he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet, he tells himself . . . Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn . . .

-------

It’s all over your face. He’s never seen anything like it, the way you crave his cock. You shamelessly stare at his pants. His whole body, really. You were bad enough before you touched it, and it’s only gotten worse. You can’t focus, you can’t listen. It’s dangerous. He should put a stop to this, take it away cold turkey. Sleep back-to-back. But you both have needs, and he's not gonna do that.

Joel feels like he might as well be a virgin himself, it's been so long for him. Frankly, he’s dying to put it in you just as much as you long to have it. He’s been trying to wait until Jackson so he can do it somewhere safe, somewhere a little nicer, more comfortable.

He wants to wait and make sure it's nice and special for you, but good lord, you’re makin' it hard. You make the sweetest little sounds when he touches you, and even when he doesn’t, like in your sleep. You ask him things like, “doesn’t sex feel better than hands?” He tells you half-truths, like “not always.” Of course it would with you. Of course it would.

You’re in the forest. With dusk approaching, you're just about to set up camp while there's still light. Joel is taking a leak at the edge of a small clearing, calculating mileage in his head, counting down the days ‘til you should get there. His back could use a real bed, too. He's shaking his dick dry and a twig snaps behind him. His head whips around and he reaches for his gun.

It’s you. God damnit, he could’ve killed you.

“Can I see it?” you ask.

“What the hell are ya doin’ over here?”

“I just wanna see it.” You look down toward his jeans. “Can I?”

It’s fair that you’re curious, he knows that. You mentioned it the night before with your hand wrapped around it, I wanna see it, really see it, I bet it’s good looking. You’ve only felt it at night and caught glimpses in the moonlight. At the time, he mindlessly reassured you, you’ll see it, baby, you'll see my cock, and he should’ve known you’d spring this on him.

“Not now,” he mutters, trying to calm his heart rate. “Can ya gimme a second, honey?”

“Okay.” He can hear the sadness, practically see the disappointment on your face. God damnit. He tucks himself away and zips up. You're only about eight feet away. “Now?”

“No. Ain’t nothin’ to see right now.” You probably don’t realize what a big difference it can make.

“What do you mean”

“Just trust me, it’s not how you wanna see it.”

“Why?"

“Cause it ain’t as. . .”

“Ain’t as what?”

“Nothin’, baby. Just not the right time.”

“Better if we’re close together, right?” You step closer.

He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. “This ain’t the time or the place, honey.”

When he looks at you again, your face has fallen, and you mumble, “K.”

He puts a big, comforting hand on your shoulder and walks you back to where y'all are setting up camp. “When we find a bed, I’ll show ya. . .”

"And when we find a bed," you repeat. Don't say it, don't say it, he prays to God you don't say it. "We can do it, right?" He doesn't answer. "You can put your cock inside me, right?"

Fuck, you're gonna drive this old man crazy. At least one of you needs your wits about you if you'll ever make it to Jackson. "We'll see," he sighs.

After a moment of silence, your voice trembles as you ask, "We'll see? Why not yes?"

"Cause we ain't gonna make it there at this rate," he complains, then sighs with instant regret. "I'm sorry, honey. But you gotta try to knock it off with this stuff."

You swallow and your eyes glimmer. "Sorry," you whisper.

He turns away to adjust himself, then sits down on the ground, leaning back against a log and extends an arm for you. "S'okay, c'mere."

You sit on the ground next to him. He squeezes your shoulder and changes the topic to twenty questions.

——

He’s nicer at night. He’s nice in the day, too, mostly. Once in a while, you can tell you’re annoying him, and you feel bad. If only he knew how many times you thought about it and didn't say something, he’d appreciate your efforts. It’s practically all you think about. It’s even worse now that you feel it in your hand every night, but the last thing you want is for that to stop.

You had been thinking about it all day when you finally asked what you thought was an easy request – if you could just see it, just a glimpse while he already had it out anyway.

Even if you don’t get to see it, at least it’s easy enough to recall what it feels like. Smooth, warm, and stiff. Soft veins, tiny wrinkles. A leaking slit.

—--

“Can I taste it?” you ask one night with your little fist wrapped around his shaft.

He groans quietly. “Yeah, you wanna taste it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand sticky with the lube of your own slick, a bead of precum under your thumb. You smear the precum and let go of his hard cock, making it slap against his stomach. You take your thumb into your mouth and hum, “Mmm,” at the salty taste.

“Whatcha think,” he whispers breathily.

“Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Oh, baby, ‘course ya can.” The zipper of the sleeping bag jingles, then you hear the satisfying zzz as it unzips. He folds it down and you get up on your knees. You bend at the hip and don't waste a second. You wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base, trying and failing to make your digits touch.

Then, your lips wrap around the head. He inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

“God no, honey. Go ‘head, taste it all ya want.”

You curiously tongue the slit and suck for more.

“Oh god damn,” he breathes.

You lick around it under the crown and you’re salivating.

He wraps his hand around yours and moves it up and down, then leaves you be. “Use your spit, honey.” You let it dribble out of your mouth and onto his tip and catch it in your fist. You kitten lick the shaft, tasting your own tang, and letting your saliva fall out of your mouth as it accumulates, occasionally sliding the open ring of your finger and thumb up and down but mostly forgetting because you’re so focused on it in your mouth.

“Ya like that, sweetie? ya like how we taste?” You take a couple inches into your mouth then suck a little more of it in. It twitches against your tongue. The biggest vein throbs.

“Alright, baby,” he pants and takes it from you. He urgently pulls up his own shirt, slides his hand a few times, then comes with a groan, his voice and pulsing manhood making you ache with need, even though he already made you come. You stay there on your knees. In the dim moonlight, you watch his tummy rise and fall with the shiny trail leading to, and pooling in, his navel.

“Can I taste that, too?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You dip your tongue in the trail below his navel. It’s thicker, headier, saltier than the precum. It’s not every day you get to taste something new. It’s not often at all. It's delicious.

“Like it,” you whisper.

“Yeah? take all ya want.”

You lick and seal your lips as you suck it up. You pause to pluck a hair from your teeth, then continue to his navel. You dip your tongue in and his stomach flexes abruptly. You take your mouth off and pause. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.”

You tongue his navel, then suck, and he inhales a chest full of air as you do it, his stomach rising into your lips. You lick up every drop.

“Good girl,” he sighs and cups your cheek. “Such a good girl," he sighs.

—

All day you think about it in your mouth, in your hand, resting hard against your back, between your thighs. You imagine it all over your body. Doesn’t matter if he’s pressing it up against your hip or resting it in the crook of your elbow, God, you just want to feel it somewhere. You try not to think about it inside you too much because that makes you want it so bad, you could cry. Like really cry.

It’s not a want. It's a need. You see it happening everywhere you look. You see a tree, and you imagine him sitting on the forest floor against it, holding his cock at attention, ready for you to sit on it. You see another tree and he’s pinning you up against it with your legs wrapped around him, jeans pulled down under his ass as he rails you. You see a patch of moss and cluster of ferns that would be a nice pillow with him on top of you.

You think about it, and you dream about it, too. You can’t help that. He starts wearing jeans to sleep, and you can’t feel the shape of him quite as well against you, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that it’s there and it’s hard is enough to drive you mad. Even after he gets you off, it's bound to come back at some point in the night. Worst case scenario, you lose sleep over it. Best case, it works its way into your dreams.

----

One night, you're moaning in your sleep again, and Joel can hardly take it. His cock is painfully stiff and the strain against his jeans makes him ache. His hips press into you on their own; he can't stop them. All he can do is take off his jeans in hopes that being free of the rigid confines will lend some relief. He was wearing them as an extra layer between the two of you for this exact scenario, but he can no longer bear it.

On one hand, he’s taking precautions, like keeping his jeans on. But on the other hand, in the heat of the moment, when he’s touching you, he’s taking measures to prepare you, and to see how ready you are. Lately, he scissors his fingers, inserts three to see how you take it. “Good girl, that’s real good, honey.” He curls them inside you, “Ohhh, baby, you’re takin’ this real good.”

God, he wants a bed for this. You deserve a fuckin' mattress at the very least. He’s gotta wait. And yet now he finds himself taking off his jeans. He carefully removes them without waking you up. He lies there with his fist around his cock for a minute, still in his boxers, doing nothing but softly squeezing, as if that’ll make it go away. Then he resigns himself to the magnetism of your body. He curves his form around yours again and silently sighs as the hardness in his boxers rests against you and he wraps you in a hug. He manages not to thrust against your ass, but in no time, you're pushing yourself back against him. "Joel," you mumble in your sleep.

"God have mercy," he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. . . not yet. . . not yet, he tells himself, taking deep calming breaths. Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn he wants to take that tight little hole.

"Joel,” you whine and push back on him again. He can't stand it. He really can't. He has to wake you up.

He whispers, "Whatcha dreamin 'bout, sweetie?" then feels your breathing change.

When you blink awake, your hips are slowly moving, pushing your ass back into Joel's hard cock until you stop yourself.

"Sorry," you mumble. "Did I wake you up?" The sweet sound of your voice isn’t helping.

"Don't be sorry, baby," he murmurs into your hair.

"I dunno how to stop it," you whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, baby doll." He hugs you tight. “Don’t be embarrassed.” His cock swells harder against you. He whispers in your ear, "They want each other real bad, that's all."

"I know."

"Have a good dream?"

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“‘bout what?”

“I dunno if you wanna hear it,” you tell him. Fair enough, he's told you to knock it off, after all.

“Sure I do, honey. Was it you and me?”

“Yeah,” you wedge your hand between your legs.

"You want a hand?"

“Yeah.”

“What’d ya dream?” he asks as he reaches into your panties. "God damn," he whispers. You're soaked, swollen, and your clit is throbbing against his hand. "Poor thing." He thrusts his hardness against your ass. "No wonder you're tryin' to get at this, huh?"

You're quiet.

"No wonder ya can't stop thinkin' ‘bout it." He thrusts against you again and moans softly. "What'd ya dream, baby?"

“It was. . .” you can hardly form words thinking about it. It was so vivid, so real. “We were right here, like this.”

“Yeah?” He uses your ample moisture to lightly rub your clit.

He begins to make peace with himself that this might happen before he wants. He hooks his fingers into your panties. “Let’s take these off for a lil bit, hmm? Let her breathe.”

“Okay.” You bend your knees as he pulls your soaked panties down.

—-

"We were right here like this, in the dream?" He repeats.

“You took it out of your pants,” you whisper. He moans softly, takes his hand away, and jostles behind you. Then you feel his naked cock against your skin. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the contact. He returns his hand between your legs and lazily circles your clit, pressing his naked dick against you.

"Took it out like this?" He asks soft and deep.

"Yeah,"

He thrusts against you and whispers in your ear, "Then what?"

"You put it between my legs."

He inhales sharply then wedges his cock between your thighs, shuddering as he slides it forward along your dripping seam and the head meets his fingers on your clit.

You tilt your hips and he whispers, "Oh, baby. Like this?"

"No, you put it inside," you whisper.

Joel's breath hitches and he twitches against your heat. You moan. He slides slowly through your folds to your clit and back. He tries to slow down and think it over, but there are no thoughts, just his stiff, aching cock and your tight little pussy begging for it.

——

“Will you do that,” you ask, looking over your shoulder but not enough to meet his eyes.

Joel takes a deep breath. “You think I should? Don’t wanna wait for a bed?” He thrusts in small pulses. “Just a few days, baby.”

“They wanna be together real bad,” you whisper. “how they’re meant to be," you remind him.

Joel groans at your words. “I know, baby doll.” He takes a deep breath. “How’d it feel in your dream?”

“Full, really full,” you tell him, then sigh. “Felt so big.’

“Ohh, fuck,” Joel breathes into your hair and slides his cock against you, wet and stiff.

“It was like I was hugging you with my, um,” you say, then swallow and tilt your hips. "Hugging it."

“God damn,” he sighs. He pulls his cock back, and as he slides it forward again, it catches at your entrance. You spread your thighs ever so slightly. “You sure ‘bout this,” he confirms, and uses the hand between your legs to nestle his tip just inside. You gasp.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yes, please. Joel, please,” you whine. You push back on him with a small grunt, stretching yourself open on his tip.

“Oh god, baby,” he sighs, then he holds you still and slowly pushes himself inside with a quiet groan muffled by your hair. “Fuck, you’re–ohh, you’re tight.” You gasp as his girth parts your walls and your body makes room for him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod urgently, and he twitches inside you.

You shiver with pleasure as he pushes further and sighs, “Oh, baby.”

“Joel,” you whine, “its so big”

“Too big?”

“No,” you reassure him. “I want it.”

He pushes the rest of himself in until his pelvis is flush. He breathes heavily and mutters, “fuck.”

You moan and push back on him. “s’perfect,” you whine.

“you like havin’ me in here?”

“I love it,” you say.

“As much as the dream?”

“More than the dream.”

“What happened next?” he asks

“Then you it moved like you do in my hand.”

“Yeah,” he begins to rock his hips, his thick cock dragging inside you. “Like this?”

“nnngghh–yeah,” you nod then gasp as you're filled by his length again. “ohhh,” you moan. "And then you came inside—”

He groans, then pants as he’s moving inside you, “Ohh fuck, sweetie I can’t—ohh, I can’t do that, uggghh–god damn.”

“Felt so good, like a massage”

“Ohh, baby, please don’t–”

“And warm”

“Fuck,” he breathes and covers your mouth with his free hand, bicep flexing under your neck as he does it. No way he’s gonna last with you talking like that.

He begins to slowly move again and you whimper. You’re right, it is like you’re hugging him. You’re so tight and wet for him, taking his cock so good.

"Good girl," he whispers, burying his length in you every second or so, only pulling back halfway each time.

"Such a good girl, wantin' my cock so bad." He moans. "Waitin' all this time—uggh." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts. "That's my girl, takin' me so good," his next thrust is harder and you moan. "Yeah, just like that," he breathes. His hand teases your clit as he fucks you. You whimper and he repeats, "just like that," his voice shakier, his breath heavier on your ear, “yeah.”

You moan into his hand, and his fingers circle your clit. “C’mon, baby,” he pants. “Gonna come on my cock?” You nod and hum your agreement. “Better do it now, then, you can do it.”

You let go and your clit pulses madly, your walls clench down on him. It feels so good, your eyes well up in tears.

“Ohh, baby,” he sighs, and suddenly pulls out. He replaces his cock with two fingers that your cunt begins to hug. “Such a good girl, squeezin’ my fingers.”

His aching arousal presses against your ass, and he humps against you as he fingers you. “Ohh, yea--ohhhh.” His cock begins to pulse, spreading a silky warmth across your skin. He moans and sighs as you finish coming on his fingers and his balls empty.

—-

He uses a shirt of his to clean you up. As his breathing calms down, he hears you sniffling. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”

You’re fine, more than fine, but you can’t talk.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself when you don’t answer. He peeks over your side, gently stroking your arm. “Hey, c’mere, talk to me, sweetie.” You turn around and face him. “You okay, honey?”

You nod and smile at him with watery eyes.

His brows knit as he finishes catching his breath. He kisses you on the forehead and wraps you in a hug. You sniffle again and he speaks into your hair. “I know that was a big deal for you, baby.” He pulls his head back and tilts your chin up. “It was big for me too, okay?” You nod. He reads your eyes, then presses his lips into yours. He reads your face again, then repeats the kiss and you kiss him back. He kisses you on the forehead and holds you, stroking your head. You fall asleep holding each other face-to-face.

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your comments and reblogs go a long way in motivation so if you liked it plz consider saying something 🫶. There's a virgin section on my joel master list right above the one shots. Left in Lincoln is a pretty similar Joel, in terms of how he is with you sexually. For more Joel POV, the most recent raider, Night Air, has a lot.

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for fic notifications, please follow @toxicfics, subscribe to notifications, and make sure your tumblr app settings allow push notifications. ⚠️ some of my fics are pretty dark.

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thevillainswhore · 1 month

Text

The Ties That Bind Us

Pairing: Ex-Husband!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: Even though Bucky is your ex-husband, you still have to see him often because of your shared son. But the heated tension, the spark that is still very much alive after your divorce, finally reaches its peak when you come home from your date.

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, small amount of angst, mutual pining, jealousy, kissing, smut, oral (fem receiving), daddy kink, p in v sex, derogatory names, spitting, happy ending.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne

“You look so pretty, Mama!” You caught your son’s reflection in the mirror, his bright blue eyes wide and in awe as you finished the final touches up of your makeup.

You were about to respond, but the words died on your tongue at the sight of Bucky’s large form rounding the corner into the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over one another. “She absolutely does, cupcake.”

The intensity of his stare made you gulp silently, and you diverted your eyes back to your son.

Bucky had been doing that a lot recently —looking at you differently, more longing in his eyes than usual.

“Thank you, baby,” you said, ignoring Bucky in favour of showing your appreciation to your son. The knot in your stomach was wound too tight to try and unravel the conflict that ravaged in your mind. “You’re going to be good for your Dad tonight, aren’t you?”

Your son did his best to try and hide the cheeky smirk on his lips — one that resembled his father a little too much. “Of course Mama, I be a good boy.”

Unable to help the smile growing on your face, you brought him into your embrace, snuggling him tightly until he let out a loud squeal when you tickled his stomach. “I mean it, trouble. No staying up late and no ice cream before bed.”

Instantly, his puppy eyes fell to his father, an innocent pout on his lips. “But Dadda—“

“Sorry kid,” Bucky held strong. Glancing to you before looking back to his son, “Mama’s rules.”

“Oh, shucks,” your son sighed as you laughed.

From the outside looking in, the three of you seemed like a perfect family. Picturesque and ideal — white picket fences enclosing a home that was full of love and laughter, wholesome family dinners and celebrations for each loved one.

But things were never as simple as you wished.

The sobering thought made your laughter die in your throat, and you checked the time on your lit up phone screen. It was almost time for your date and you were wary of being late. “Okay, cupcake. I’ve gotta get moving so I can make it on time.”

“Aw,” your son whined, and you ruffled his hair as you made your way out of the bathroom. The air was knocked out of your lungs as you squeezed by Bucky, the scent of his aftershave he had worn since you first met him filled your nose and overtook your senses.

You barely suppressed a moan, a sinful combination that your mind begged you to inhale one more time, while another internal voice scolded you. The lingering touch of his fingers ghosting over your waist made it even harder to listen to sense.

Once you reached the hallway, you shook yourself and grabbed your bag from its hook by the door. The coat over your arm was warm and comfortable as you slipped it over your shoulders.

The telltale patter of feet over the hardwood floor bounced towards you, along with another set of heavier ones not too far behind. “Where you going this time, mama?” cupcake asked.

Smiling, you leaned down and tucked a stray lock of deep brown hair behind his ear. “Just for dinner, baby. I won’t be out long and I promise I’ll be back to make you pancakes in the morning, okay, sweetie?”

He nodded before stepping closer and tiptoeing up to whisper in your ear. “Make sure he treat you good because you deserve whole world.”

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging on to your waterline. You blinked them away quickly before your son could notice.

Though, Bucky did.

You kissed his forehead, and leaned back to look into his eyes. “You got it, cupcake.”

Stepping forward, Bucky spoke up. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Mama and go get a movie set up, huh pal? I’ll be with you soon.”

Before your son left, he hugged you. “Bye Mama, I loves you.”

You smiled as he ran off. “I love you too, baby — and remember to be good!”

Only Bucky and you were left by the door, your blanket of comfortability was gone and you felt his eyes that held too many memories burning through you.

“You really do look beautiful,” he vowed.

Fuck, you internally cursed.

You tried not to look into his eyes while you fumbled with your dress. “Thank you, Bucky.” You quickly shifted the conversation. “If he doesn’t settle then text me, okay? My phone will be on loud and I’ll answer straight away—“

“As much as I— We would like you home, I’m sure we’ll survive without you for a couple of hours,” Bucky said, recovering from his hiccup smoothly.

Your gazes met — you had always gotten lost in his eyes and even all these years later nothing had changed.

Snapping out of your reverie, you shook your head and unlocked the door. “I’ll um— I’ll be back later.”

Before you could leave, Bucky caught your hand. “Have fun, Doll.”

And with all the strength you had, you delicately took your hand out of his, taking note of the tan line of where his wedding ring used to sit. “Bye, James.”

The date went as expected.

Your company for the night wasn’t a problem at all. In fact, this was the third date you had both been on together. However, the spark you had so badly tried to ignite through bland conversations and one already ringed out similar interest fell short.

Every date you had been on since your divorce with Bucky seemed to lack a certain something for you. Although in recent light, you had come to terms with the fact you that no one’s eyes had the same shade of blue you were familiar with. Or made your heart jump in your chest from excited nerves years after your first meeting.

Simply, you hated the fact you compared every single man to Bucky.

With a sigh, you unlocked your door, careful to make as little noise as possible as you walked into your home. It was quiet, almost silent, apart from those damned footsteps that eased the weight off your chest and yet caused goosebumps to cascade down the bare skin of your arms.

Bucky rounded the corner from your kitchen to the open plan living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand in the orange hue of the darkness, provided by a single lit lamp.

“Hey,” he greeted you, the expression on his face imperceptible. “How was your date?”

You cleared your throat, struggling to keep your composure from the sight of his tight black T-shirt and denim jeans that deliciously hugged his thighs. “Um yeah— it was— it was okay.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Just okay?” He laughed. “Come on, give me more than that.”

You sighed in defeat. “I told him it was best if we didn’t see each other anymore.”

Unfortunately, there was only so much of a facade you could fake until it became noticeable to your date. It was an amicable decision with no hard feelings. But, it didn’t help to settle the confusing thoughts in your head.

Bucky took a swig of his drink, placing it on the hallway side table before he began slowly pacing towards you.

You couldn’t discern the look in his eyes, the way they feasted on your thighs or your waist. Backing up against the door until you physically couldn’t break free from the heat of his gaze, you could only watch as Bucky drew closer, right until you were a breath apart.

He brought an arm up, over the top of your head to lean against the door. “Any reason why?” he asked, a husk to his tone that granted you no favours.

A sudden pulse shot through your nerves, the ache between your thighs intense. It took everything in you to not rub them together. He would notice that you were sure of.

Desperate to escape what was sure to be a dangerous situation, you quickly slid out of his invisible hold and hastily made your way to the kitchen to pour your own drink. Bucky joined you only seconds later.

“How was cupcake?” you asked instead, attempting to switch the conversation to a safe topic. “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

“He was good as gold,” he instantly replied, staring you down. A beat later, “He whined about the ice cream situation, but I promised I’d take him out for it tomorrow and he was out like a light — we had fun.”

You slightly faltered as you poured the whiskey into a second glass. You didn’t miss his small innuendo of spending more time together.

“Thanks for looking after him tonight. I know it was pretty useless anyway, but—“

Bucky trapped you against the counter as he placed his hand over yours, his deep baritone rumbling in your ears. “Don’t thank me for looking after my own son, you know I’d do it all the time if I could.” He took a deep breath. “If you would let me.”

No. You couldn’t do this.

You immediately dropped the bottle of whiskey onto the kitchen countertop, ripping yourself away from his touch to walk away.

Bucky reached out as he followed you. “Babydoll—“

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you scolded, fury in your voice.

Bucky however, wasn’t deterred. “Doll.”

“No—“

“Will you just—“ he caught you with a firm grip and spun you around to face him. “Will you stop running away from me.”

The two of you were out of breath from sudden adrenaline, harshly breathing into each other's mouths. The look in Bucky’s eyes was wild, untamed — tortured.

“Tell me you’ve never thought about it — us getting back together.” He gripped onto your arms, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me I’m delusional and I’ll walk out that door right now and we’ll never speak of this again.”

The ache in his voice broke your heart as much as the day you signed the divorce papers.

“Bucky—“

“Please.” He cupped your face with his hands, glancing between your eyes and your lips while his thumb slowly rubbed over them. “I’m a desperate man, baby. I’m desperate for you.”

You gulped, emotion bubbling over into your voice. “We broke up, Bucky. We’re divorced.”

He laughed wetly, but there was no humour in his tone. “And that means we can’t try again?”

The reasons for your separation seemed to blur under his stare. All the ways you weren’t good for each other leaving your mind and only making room for the good.

“Where the hell is this coming from, Bucky?” You deflected once again.

Your hands shook as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I can’t stand the thought of seeing you go out with another man again,” he whispered, painfully. “It’s killing me, Babydoll. It should be me.”

Tears rushed over your cheeks, you were too overwhelmed to hold them back any longer. You sniffled as you glanced down the hall where you son currently lied fast asleep and obvlious. “I can’t hurt our son, Bucky — I can’t.”

He smiled sadly at you, the crinkle in his eyes ever present but they only made you swoon for him even more. “There’s a reason all those dates don’t ever work out.”

You couldn’t hear it, couldn’t take what he was trying to say. “Stop it.”

“I know you’ve been holding back as much as I have.”

He was pushing you, like he always did and as much as you wanted to curse him, it was working. “Please don’t make me—“

The point of no return came in the form of your most hidden secret spilling from Bucky’s lips. “You still love me, Babydoll.”

Ice ran through your veins, hearing those words out loud that you hadn’t dared let yourself believe. Your mouth gaped open, unable to find the words to deny his accusations until your tether broke.

“Fine! I’m ruined for anyone else!” you shouted, frustrated and scared — a wild animal trapped in a corner. “You’ve ruined me — is that what you want to hear?”

His plump lips, soft and pink curled up. “It’s exactly what I want to hear.”

Leaping forward, Bucky crashed his lips against yours.

He was feverish as you both collided into each other. His hands, unrelenting yet gentle mapped out each and every slope of your body as you stood in the living room, feeling each other for the first time in years.

“Fuck,” he groaned between kisses. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, baby.”

Your head spun, dizzy with want. You hadn’t been touched in so long by anyone, never mind your ex-husband and your heart pounded erratically with nerves, excitement and longing.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, Bucky kissed you like he was starved, as though you were his only salvation. He ran his fingers through your hair, tugging it harshly to pull you closer to him even though there was no longer any distance between the two of you.

“You’ve got no idea how bad I need you,” he whined into your mouth. “Need to fuckin’— I just need you.”

Without you realising, Bucky had pushed you up against the nearest wall and even through denim jeans you could feel the hard shape of his cock while he unabashedly grinded against you.

You broke for air, gasping as oxygen rushed to your lungs. “You have me, Bucky.” He trailed sloppy kisses down your neck as you panted, desperate to stain your skin with any trace of him. “You can have anything you want.”

He growled, a sound that caused a gush of wetness to soak your panties. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, sweetheart.”

Ripping away from you, he grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the laundry room on the other side of your house. You struggled to keep up with his fast strides in your heels, but you just about managed as he shoved you through the door and locked it behind him.

His back was turned to you for a while and you stood nervously fidgeting, waiting for him to face you. His back rose and fell with breathless heaves, as though he was holding back — a feral beast ready to pounce.

“Babydoll,” he said suddenly, rough and graveled. “I need to know you want this before I fuck the shit out of you.”

Holy fuck, the mouth on this man. Your mouth grew dry while you struggled to think clearly in his aura. “I— I do—“ you stuttered, lamely.

He slowly turned around, a wolfish gleam in his eyes with adrenaline surging through his veins. He was tense as he took a deep breath. “Say it like you mean it.”

When you stayed quiet, too hazy to speak, Bucky stalked towards you, lifting your chin up to look him directly in his eyes. “Say. It.”

Closing your eyes, you cleared your mind and swallowed before whispering, “I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name, Bucky.”

He smirked, the kind you knew all too well — deadly. “Atta’ girl.”

You sqeauled as he suddenly hiked you up into his arms, hands under your thighs so he could place you on top of the washing machine. Laundry detergents and other products you didn’t care to take note of fell from the shelves around you as he pounced on you once again, devouring you whole with his sinful lips.

“Do you know how much I’ve had to restrain myself, Doll — Mm?” he pressed, covering every inch of bare skin you had to offer with his kisses. “How fuckin’ hard it’s been to not drag you back in the house and take you right then while you get dressed up for someone else?”

You did. Because you understood more than anyone the pain of having to force yourself away from Bucky when all you had ever wanted was him.

He unbuckled his belt, the telltale sound of the leather snapping against his hands and the jingle of metal sent bolts of electricity straight to your cunt.

Your mind couldn’t keep up, your vision blurry with the sudden turn of events. All you knew was that you needed Bucky.

“Hurry, baby. Please,” you whined.

Bucky groaned with delight, his eyes rolling to the back of his head while he bit his swollen bottom lip. “Oh, how I’ve missed you begging for me, pretty mama.”

Rushing to take off his belt, he slid the material through the loops of his jeans and threw it on the floor, not long after hurrying to unzip his fly and shuffle his pants down along with his underwear.

The tip of his cock peaked out of his black briefs and instantly you let out a high pitched moan, even shocking Bucky enough to look back up at you drooling over him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, slightly condescending. “Don’t you worry, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

Bucky revealed the entirety of his cock, the length just as long as you remembered and the girth as thick as you had imagined in your nights alone with your toys that couldn’t compare.

The slight curve that you could feel the ghost of pleasure from to this day caused you to bite your lip and squirm in your place.

Without waiting for Bucky, you began shifting the bottom of your dress up your thighs, too impatient to wait for him to undress you. It gave you immense satisfaction when he followed the material, slowly revealing more of your skin. His mouth gaped open while he fell to his knees, the thud that sounded surely must have hurt, but there was no other expression on his face than greed.

You stopped your dress just before Bucky could peak at your red panties and you almost laughed when his head shot up, aghast that you had interrupted the show.

The power you held, you smirked. “You want more, Daddy?”

Bucky dropped his head onto your thighs, his breath travelling up to your covered mound — your eyes fluttered, though you kept your breathing steady to not seem so desperate.

Stroking your fingers through his fluffy hair, you murmured low, “Does it hurt to know my pussy is right here and you can’t have it?”

You felt his muscles quickly lock up, his head snapping up to you with a speed that was frightening and exhilarating all at once. The blue of his irises darkened, dilating as he chuckled, “You’re very much mistaken, sweetheart. Because this pussy right here,” he shoved your dress up, spread your legs and breathed into you. “She’s mine, baby girl. And you’ve kept her from me long enough.”

A chilled blast of air hit you as Bucky tore your panties from your waist and held them up. “You wore these slutty panties for that fucker, huh?”

You gasped in shock when he brought them to his nose and inhaled the gusset deeply. He grunted as he closed his eyes in bliss. “Cos’ I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s got you this soaked.”

Your keens amused him greatly. “Bucky—“

“That’s right, mama,” he laughed with pride. “My name sounds so damn heavenly coming from your lips.”

Bucky pocketed your underwear, not caring to be discreet and his thumbs came up to your cunt to spread you open to his eager eyes. “My god, baby,” he gasped in awe. Your hole clenched at the vulgar display. “You’re just as tight as the last time I had you.”

He tested a finger over your folds, running it through the embarrassing amount of slick that coated you.

“No one,” you breathed, shaking your head while willing your scrambled thoughts to formulate into words. “There’s been— there hasn’t—“

Bucky looked up at you from his knelt position, a small slither of vulnerability shining through his lust-hooded eyes. “Just me?”

You gulped and nodded, staring into his wide blues with honesty. “Just you.”

A moment passed between you. The charged air filtered down to that spark that had always been buried through the heartbreak you both endured in your divorce.

Bucky swallowed before placing a single kiss to the inside of your knee. “Then let me make up for that.”

You leaned your head back against the shelf behind you as his lips traveled up the meat of your thighs, yelping each time he gently bit you.

He murmured obscenities you could barely respond to as he edged closer to your pussy. You offered yourself freely, on a platter, as your legs opened even wider for him — the only man who ever truly owned you.

His lips whispered over your mound, a hint for what was about to come. “I’ve been waiting to taste you again for years.”

You moaned aloud, unhinged and unapologetic while Bucky licked a fat stripe up your cunt. Your nerves were alight with pure fire and you instantly grabbed onto the back of his head to push him further into you.

You didn’t care if the action was needy — one single touch of him and you were a goner once again.

He feasted on you, not coming up for air as he switched between sucking your clit and slurping your juices. “Oh my god— Bucky, baby you gotta— holy fuck.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Bucky wrapped his thick arms around your thighs and dragged you closer to him — all too happy to suffocate between your legs. “Sweet as a fuckin’ apple pie,” he murmured into you, the vibrations only deepening your pleasure.

Looking down at him, his eyes were homed in on you, watching your every expression. They were blown out, wild while strands of his hair stuck out in every direction.

Pulling away slightly, his heavy pants blew over your throbbing clit. “Daddy makin’ you feel good, Babydoll?”

You hardly had time to reply as he immediately shoved his tongue into your clenching hole and fucked you with it.

“Bucky!” you screamed to the ceiling. However, a harsh slap delivered to your thigh snapped you back to sense.

“You know that’s not what you call me,” he barked.

Whining, you corrected yourself. “Daddy, please!”

You felt his smirk plastered over your pussy as he hummed into you, “There’s my good girl.”

Your legs began to shake as you felt your climax creep to the surface and Bucky only doubled down with his sinful tongue that you somehow had forgotten he was way too talented with.

“I’m close,” you whispered as your vision began to blur. “So close — please, please don’t stop.”

Bucky continued his ministrations while your pussy fluttered around his tongue. Your release was within reaching distance and you gripped the washing machine, ready to let go until suddenly his presence was gone.

You almost fell forward before you caught yourself with your remaining strength. The pent up tension that was wound in your stomach hadn’t loosened and it took you a second to realise you hadn’t cum.

“W—what?” you mumbled shakily as you blinked your eyes open. Bucky stood there, his cock pulsing and viciously purple, with a smirk on his face, wiping his slick covered mouth with his arm. It disorientated you.

“I haven’t—“ you swallowed the dryness of your mouth. “You didn’t make me—“

Bucky’s cock bobbed as he closed the distance between you, dizzying you even further with a passionate kiss. “No I didn’t, baby.”

You whimpered in despair, the ache worsening. “But Daddy—“

“Nu-uh,” he breathed while lining his cock against your hole. “You’re only gonna fuckin’ cum when I say you can.”

Recklessly, Bucky pushed his full length into your pussy. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into him as the sheer size of his thick cock winded you enough to wail out.

“Shit,” he cursed, a strain in his voice as he firmly gripped your hips. “Fuckin’ hell— Babydoll, how the fuck are you still so tight.”

Impatiently, you fidgeted. Whether it was to escape how full he made you or try and force him deeper into your cunt you weren’t sure. All of it was too overwhelming to process.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, tears building over your glassy eyes. “You’re too big— Bucky, I can’t—“

“Yes you can,” he declared with conviction while he lifted your gaze to him. “You can take it, sweetheart.”

Slowly, Bucky began to ease out of your cunt. His cock was coated with your wetness and he moaned deeply at the sight. He grinded back into you, his curved tip hitting every sensitive spot.

“There we go,” he brushed your hair back and kissed your forehead, praising you. “Taking my cock so good, Babydoll. Just like always.”

His touch was familiar, yet new — all consuming and claiming — and you melted into him, smothering his neck with a litany of kisses as he continued to gently thrust his cock into you.

“M—Missed you,” you confessed, drunk from lust and emotion. “Missed you so much, Bucky.”

The motion of his hips sped up as he began pounding into you with more force. “Yeah? You missed being a sweet little wife for me?” He taunted with an evil grin. “You loved being Daddy’s little slut, didn’t you?”

“Mhm— Always your slut, Daddy!” You sobbed into his skin.

His pace turned unrelenting, fierce after too much lost time. He fucked you as though he would be left out to dry after he was done.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned his forehead against yours. “You’re mine, Babydoll,” he grunted. “Don’t care who’s fuckin’ taking you on dates. You belong to me.”

Nodding your head, you fell mute, mouth gaped wide as you felt the knot begin to build up in your stomach once more.

Bucky looked down to watch his dick glisten with your slick. The obscene sounds created from the amount of your juices leaking out only caused his cock to throb. Your cunt squelched with each thrust he made. But it wasn’t enough for him.

Gathering saliva in his mouth, Bucky spat to where the two of you connected, groaning as it clung to your pussy and stringed out with his motions.

Your squeals of pleasure began to get louder as the coil tightened, “I’m gonna—“

Before you could rush the words out, Bucky pleaded, “Tell me you love me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, more alert now. He didn’t falter, only fucked you with more abandon.

“Tell me you love me,” he repeated once more, a demand this time.

“Bucky, I—“

“I know you do, Doll.” His hips started to twitch, his telltale sign that he was also close to cumming. However, you had an inclination that he wouldn’t let himself go until you gave him what you wanted. “I know you remember how good it used to be. Let me come home and I’ll fuck you this good whenever you want.”

You gurgled around his fingers as he suddenly shoved them into your mouth, collecting the drool gathered on your tongue to bring them down to your clit. He didn’t ease them against you, instead rubbing tight circles rapidly, bringing you closer to the edge faster.

It was impossible to escape his dark eyes or the fierce hold of his hand at the back of your neck. “Feels so fucking good, Daddy!” you blurted.

“I know, mama,” he assured as he drove his cock into you even harder. “Your cunt feels like heaven.”

“I wanna cum,” you cried. “I need to cum.”

“You know what you’ve gotta do then, don’t you, Babydoll?”

You squeezed your eyes closed. The pleasure started to blend into a mix of pain and you were only slightly ashamed that it only turned you on more. “I—“

“Come on, baby. Give me what I want.” A few more punishing thrusts and you were treading the line of your impending orgasm. Your thighs shook violently and beads of sweat dripped down your chest. But when Bucky grounded out his next words, you fell apart. “Be a good wife for Daddy and tell me the truth.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer, the balance of your orgasm tipping over along with the truth you tried to withhold. “I love you, Bucky!”

Instantly, you felt the pulse of Bucky’s cock, a warm shoot of his load filling your cunt while you silently screamed and shook with the intensity of your climax.

Everything fell deaf to your ears as you fought to catch your breath, slumping against Bucky. His heavy breaths blew your stray hairs sticking out from the sweat gathered on your head while his hips continued to slowly pump into you from the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

You were brought back to the present with the gentle touch of his lips pressing against your cheeks, kissing your skin delicately. “Hey there, Babydoll.”

While you would have normally been nervous, the energy that he had drained you of allowed your inhibitions and walls to crumble, leaving you to smile drunkenly at him. “Hi,” you whispered.

Bucky checked you over, darting his eyes over your face. “You feeling okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, bringing your thumb up to swipe over his stubble you had always been fond of. “Freshly fucked and never better.”

The corner of his lips curved up, a small mirth of laughter escaping him. He licked his lips and you detected a hint of nerves that crossed over his features. “I um— I’m sorry if I—“

You placed your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him. “You didn’t go too rough.” Slowly, you brought your finger down, hooking it into the collar of his shirt. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Good.” He brought one of your hands up to his mouth to kiss the palm of your hand. “Good.”

The two of you barely noticed his length still deep in you. All that you cared for was the weight suddenly released from your chest.

“Did you mean it?” Bucky asked, cutting through the peaceful silence. He was defenseless, all guards down with a shimmer of hope twinkling in his ocean eyes.

You knew exactly what he was referring to and you inhaled deeply before you replied, “I did.”

He swallowed thickly, his emotion clear though his bright eyes. “I love you too — so fuckin’ much.” He nuzzled into your neck as your hand held him close to you. “I’ve missed you.”

A lump gathered in your throat once more. Breathing in Bucky’s scent freely, without guilt this time, you sunk into his embrace even further.

“Can I come home?” he whispered into your skin, a desperate plea. “I’ll do whatever you want — I’ll go to counseling with you, we can take things slow. I just need you back, Babydoll.”

The answer was simple. You knew in your heart there was no one else for you, no one better. No matter your differences, everything would always lead back to Bucky and you were willing to give the two of you a second chance.

“Okay,” you answered softly.

His head shot up, eyes wide and red from the tears you felt gathering on your neck. “Okay?” he repeated hopefully.

You smiled, kissing him gently on the lips before you muttered, “Come back home, baby.”

The pan sizzled on the stove as you cooked the last pancake, a stack already piled high on the counter next to you for breakfast.

Music played softly on the radio and you swayed your hips side to side, covered by a long T-shirt, while you hummed to yourself.

You were interrupted from your task when a pair of thick arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you from behind tightly. “Yknow, I could have had my breakfast in bed,” Bucky grumbled into your ear, his deep morning voice causing your eyes to slightly flutter.

You huffed a laugh before you mumbled, “I bet you could, greedy.”

The bristles of his trimmed beard tickled your skin as he playfully nibbled your neck. “Can’t exactly blame a man when his woman tastes so sweet, Babydoll.”

Your head started to feel heavy as you gave into his kisses, leaning back into his hold and opening yourself up for him.

“There’s a good girl,” Bucky praised you. “You just let Daddy—“

Peaking an eye open, you watched as his hand crept forward, about to pinch a pancake from the pile. He yelped as you swatted his hand away, a pout on his lips while you grinned.

“Nice try, Daddy,” you teased, smugly.

Before Bucky could retort back, a sluggish set of small footsteps sounded over the floorboards and you whipped around to find your son, still sleepy, making his way to the dining table.

“Morning, cupcake!” you greeted him cheerfully.

With difficulty, he climbed his way onto one of the chairs, huffing with the effort and sinking down once comfortable. He looked towards you, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Mornin’, mama—“

Frowning, your son looked towards Bucky, finally noticing him too. “Dadda?” he asked, confused.

“Hey, pal.” Bucky treaded, carefully.

Your son’s gaze fell to the lack of distance between you and Bucky, his hand still lingering on your waist. Keeping your composure, you waited nervously for his reaction.

“He treat you good, mama?” he asked all so innocently with a hint of fierceness in his bright blue eyes.

You watched with bated breath as Bucky stepped towards him, leaning over the table with his palm up to your son. “I’m gonna take good care of mama, “ he promised with sincerity.

Your son deliberated for a moment before nodding his head and reached out to hold his Dad’s hand. “Okay, can I have pancakes now?”

You sighed a breath of relief. “Of course, baby.”

It was silent for a moment, in your small kitchen while you plated up breakfast for your family. Bucky and you shared an intimate smile until your son spoke up once again. “Just don’t forget about the ice cream you promised me.”

Laughter filled the entirety of the kitchen, a home once again bathed in love — your perfect little family.

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #Bucky Barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction

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monzabee · 1 month

Text

partition - lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Lewis are stuck in traffic in Paris, and decide to make the most of the situation.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: smut!! sex in a car, unprotected sex (because when have i written something with condoms lol), pwp, cringey ass nickname (blame beyoncé), manhandling, took me a long time to write it so it doesn’t make sense most part, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this was a passion project for me and you have no idea how happy i am with the way it turned out. There’s only one slight issue and it is that i wanted lewis to call the reader something other than peaches, but it is in the song, therefore please if you don’t like it blame the mother, aka beyoncé. Also, i was very unsure of whether i wanted to drag it out, or leave it as it is, so any feedback is appreciated. i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It took you forty five minutes to get ready – Lewis knows this because he’s been keeping time on his phone since the moment you’ve went into the bedroom side of your hotel room to get ready for the party he’s taking you to. You’ve always like to joke that he takes longer getting ready whenever the two of you have to go somewhere, but now that he is staring the timer on his phone, maybe he should use it as an evidence that you’re, in fact, wrong the next time you tease him about it. Not that he actually would do that, he is a gentleman, after all.

He’s just about to call out to you to hurry up when you beat him to it, “Baby, I need help, please!”

The nickname manages to bring the smallest of smiles to his face as he, without shouting anything back in response, gets up from his place on the couch and makes his way towards the bedroom. And that’s when his eyes land on you, in front of the full-sized mirror struggling to zip up your dress. In just a few more steps he’s right behind you, his fingers itching to dance against the smooth skin of your back. “I thought you were going to wear the suit you brought, Peaches,” his voice comes off muffled as he presses a few kisses to the expose skin on your shoulder.

“I forgot to bring the shirt that goes with it,” your voice comes off shaky as you feel his lips drag on your skin, and you can hear his soft chuckle. Craning your neck to give him a small smile, you join in his laughter, “Zip me?” With a yielding kiss, Lewis wordlessly grabs the small zipper between his fingers, and when the moves the zipper, it makes you shriek out another laugh, “Up, Lewis, zip me up please!”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, pulling the zipper upward with a swift motion. The dress seamlessly hugs your figure, and he makes a show of checking you out from the mirror in front of you before meeting your eyes. “There you go, all zipped up,” Lewis announces triumphantly, ignoring your disapproving headshake, giving you a gentle pat on the back. You turn around, facing him with a grateful smile, and he can't resist leaning in for a sweet kiss. The connection between your lips is brief but warm.

“You like my dress?” You ask him and his enthusiastic nod makes your smile widen in satisfaction, “You don’t think it’s too short?”

Instead of answering your question with words, instead Lewis tsks, letting his dissatisfaction with your question known. He gently takes one of your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours and prompts you to spin around to give him a better look of your dress. He wraps his arms around your middle, his hand still firmly intertwined with yours, and presses a kiss on your shoulder right where the strap of your dress meets your skin. “Wear any dress you want, Peaches, Miles and I can handle anyone who gives you trouble for it.”

Chucking at his protective, yet playful, response, you pat his arm around your middle with your free hand, “Speaking of the devil, we should probably get going if we don’t want him to kill us both for being late.” Lewis makes a sound of contest, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pulls you closer to himself. “Lu,” you let out a faux-exasperated sigh, “there is being late, and fashionably late, and I’m afraid we are way past the latter.

“Oh, darling,” you hear his breathy voice whisper against your skin as he places a couple of open mouthed kisses onto your exposed skin, “maybe we should stay back, hm? I can show you just how much I like your dress.” With one of his hands splayed on your stomach and his lips greeting your skin ever so often, you gasp when his lips find that one sweet spot he knows that makes your knees week. “Imagine how much fun we can have on our own, here, in our room.”

Throwing your head back to rest on his chest, a breathy chuckle falls from your lips, but you give him a stern look. “As much as I would love to stay back with you, we promised all of our friends we’ll be there.” As you rise up to your toes to give him a soft peck on the lips, you manage to break free from his arms, leaving him with a perpetual pout on his face. “When we get back, Mister Hamilton, you can do whatever you want to me.”

With your offer, the look on his face changes from a pout to a smirk. “Is that a promise, Peaches?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, darling,” you emphasise the word with an exaggerated version of his accent. “It’s a fact,” you return his look with a small smirk on your own as you add, “sir.”

Needless to say, the walk down to the lobby to get into your car is full of tension between the two of you. It’s not like Lewis can’t hold himself back, because he can. He has proven under many circumstances that he can withhold sex from you if he decides to do that. The most recent incident was when he caught you lurking around the Red Bull garage during the last race you’ve attended, which ended with you quite literally having to beg him to fuck you after a week of Lewis not even touching you. The walk down to the lobby is filled with stolen touches and knowing glances, with him trying to get you to kiss him every minute, not caring whether the people around you can hear him or not.

You give him a sideway look when the receptionist tells you that your limo for the night is waiting for you. “A limo?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him for response.

He simply shrugs a shoulder, leaning down to mumble his response into your ear, “Miles was in charge of the car,” with his fingers giving your waist a firm squeeze, he manages to earn a silent shriek from you, “I’m sure we could do with the extra space, darling.”

“Behave, Lu.” You chastise him, but the corner of your mouth upturns nonetheless and you let Lewis guide you towards the car waiting for you.

Because he is the perfect gentleman he opens your door and helps you into the limo, pressing a lingering kiss on your hand before joining you. The inside of the limo is darker than you expected, but the city lights of Paris do a good enough job of illuminating the car. The condensation on the limo’s windows has your attention and Lewis watches and you trailing your finger along the glass, tracing the line a raindrop left behind. He contemplates, for a second, whether being jealous over a raindrop for commanding your attention could be considered weird or not, but he decides that he doesn’t really care.

He places a hand on your thigh, his touch is both reassuring and possessive, but when you turn your head towards him to look at him, the way he smiles at you and his thumb caresses your knee is incredibly sweet. He is a duality in himself, Lewis is. And you enjoy the way city lights illuminate his face, his smile soft as he leans over the middle of the seat to give you a sweet peck on your lips.

“What was that for?” you ask him, giggling as you place your hand over his on your thigh. He doesn’t answer, only shrugs his shoulders and grins as he pulls away from you, instantly making you seek him out again. You’re about to comment on his suddenly playful mood, when you realise the car is slowly coming to a stop, and you let out a breath of frustration when the driver informs you that you’ve hit traffic. And traffic in Paris on a Friday night? It’s safe to say that both of you know that you are not going anywhere fast.

The overall wait is not that bad, you think. Even though the traffic is crawling at a snail’s pace, you’re more than happy to be in the car where you can be with Lewis without the overwhelming sound of EDM music and sweaty bodies pushing you around in a crowded club. The same, however, cannot be said about your boyfriend.

As time passes and you’re, still, stuck in traffic, you can see Lewis getting more and more frustrated with the situation. You try not to comment on how annoyed he looks and let him have his silent moment of irritation. You gently squeeze his hand, offering a reassuring smile. “It's alright, Lewis. We'll get there eventually.”

He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. It's just... I hate being late.” He lets out another frustrated sigh as he gently pats the empty seat between the two of you. “Can you just come closer, please?”

“Why?” you ask, eyes narrowed down in suspicion as he somehow manages to pull you closer to himself, not that you would try to get out of the situation otherwise – with the amount of times you’ve found yourself suddenly sitting in Lewis’ lap, it’s almost as if you can’t get away from him when he’s next to you. “We can’t do anything,” you whisper in warning when you catch him giving you literal bedroom eyes.

Smirking at the anxious tone of your voice, he lets his hand wander down to your hip as he quickly manoeuvres you into his lap, despite all your warnings, and calls out to the driver loud enough for him to hear his voice, “Hey mate, can you pull up the partition, please?” You hear the sound of the partition going up as Lewis fiddles with the couple of the buttons on the door handle, and soon after you hear the faint sound of music playing in the car. He meets your eyes when you give him a funny look, silently asking him what he’s up to, but he responds with a faint smile as he rests his hand on your lower back.

Rolling your eyes at the antics of the driver sitting, literally, under you, you turn your attention back to the scenery outside the window. Going back to tracing the raindrops falling onto the glass window, you choose to focus on the outside view as best as you can, given the current position you’re in. Although you’ve warned him against it, Lewis’ hand on the lower of your back drawing circles into your skin gives you other ideas you would otherwise choose to ignore in a public setting.

“What are you up to, Lewis?” you ask, lips twitching in a need to smile as you do your best to supress it.

He grins, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark as he gives you an innocent shrug of his shoulder. “Just making the most of the situation, darling.”

Letting out a resigning sigh, you try to focus back on the rain outside, but with Lewis’ hand getting bolder on your lower back and the fact that you find yourself shuffling in your seat with every subtle movement of the car makes it almost impossible to focus on anything but him. Deciding to find out just how much you can get away with, you tilt your head back slightly, your lips hovering near his ear. “Are you trying to start a scandal, Mr. Hamilton?”

He chuckles, the vibrations from his laughter sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “I told you we'd make the most of it, didn't I?” Hid hand continues its teasing dance, eventually dipping lower and even under your dress, and you have to fight the urge to let out a moan at the feeling of his skin on yours. “We can make it into a challenge,” he offers, his voice low as he suggestively whispers on your skin, “see just how scandalous we can be in the back of a limo.”

“What if someone sees?” You mumble, biting the corner of your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

His lips graze the curve of your neck, sending another shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked being watched, Peaches.” You can feel his lips curling into a smirk and a gasp leaves your lips as his hand grabs your thigh, making you shuffle closer to him as a result. “Is that a yes?” Your eyes glance over at the closed up partition, but you nod your head nevertheless, though that doesn’t necessarily satisfy the man beside you. “Words, darling.”

“Yes, please.” The words escape your mouth and your hands slide down his body to work on the zipper of his dress pants. He gives you an amused look as you pull his zipper down, and kneel on the floor between his legs as elegantly as you can given the current situation you’re in. You hear him say your name in warning, giving you a way out, even though he was teasing you about your voyeuristic tendencies – and you might’ve considered taking it, if it weren’t for the fact that having him in your mouth is the only thing you can focus on at the moment. So, instead of pulling yourself up on Lewis’ lap and let him have his way with you, you carefully take his cock out, making sure to keep your eyes fixed on his during the whole process.

Giving him a few gentle strokes, you lean forward to lick the first few drops of precum that drips out of the head of his cock. The hiss he lets out when you take the head of his cock between your lips and suck on it gently makes you smirk, and so you swirl your tongue around the tip to get another reaction out of him. With the way his left hand grabs the door, you know Lewis is trying so hard not to just grab you by your hair and guide you the way he wants to. Humming at the taste of him, you widen your lips to fit more of him in your mouth and wrap both hands around his cock to pump the rest of his cock that you can’t fit into your mouth. As you slowly start bobbing your head up and down on his cock, the sounds leaving his mouth make you want to quicken up your pace, though you refrain from doing so. Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling so turned on by a mere sound of your boyfriend’s pleasure, but you can’t help yourself as you inadvertently rub your thigs together.

You continue the movements of your mouth, taking more of him every time you bob your head down, and Lewis gives in at some point, threading his hands through your hair and guiding you down until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. “Fuck, Peaches,” his low groan sends tingles down your spine, “just like that.” He looks so beautiful, you think, with his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Your hands work together with your mouth, picking up speed when you realise you have him at your mercy like this – it even makes you wetter, and you feel the wetness between your legs. Your eyes water as a sudden move from Lewis thrusting his hips causes your gag reflex to remind you both that it is there, causing you to pull back with a huff and send a glare his way. But he apologises by caressing the apple of your cheek and easing you back onto his cock.

Your power move, however, doesn’t last long, as Lewis lets out a groan, pulling your head off of him and leaning forward to lift you onto his lap. It’s not necessarily intentional when you grind yourself against his cock, causing both of you to moan simultaneously. Your head is thrown back when you feel his lips gliding on your feverish skin, and you even let out a breathy laugh when your head lulls to the side and you see the handprints he’s left in the mirror. “Lewis,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low, suddenly very aware of the driver sitting in the front of the car, “if you don’t fuck me now, I think I might explode.”

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, his hands on your hips lifting you up to position you over his cock. But you have other plans in mind. He lets out a breathy chuckle as you drag your lips over the skin of his neck, tracing his tattoos as you leave feverish kisses along the way. “What are you doing?” He asks, hands busying themselves to get you out of your underwear.

Nipping at his skin, which earns you Lewis squeezing your hip in warning in return, but you give him a pout as you pull back. “You didn’t let me finish you off, you impatient brute.”

“Brute?” He echoes, not able to stop himself from laughing at your choice of words, “Are you going to be a brat, hm?” He is more than happy to play along when you get into these moods, though he also knows how you can get when you don’t get something you want. So when you fix him with a glare of your own, he lets out a deep sigh as he wraps your hair around one of his hands and pull your head back to bare your neck to him. “And to think I thought you were going to be a good girl, I guess that’s my fault.”

The whine that leaves you would’ve been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that he has you in the in the palm of his hand. “It’s not fair,” another whine leaves you, and you attempt rolling your hips against his erection resting against you in between your legs, but before you can find a rhythm, he halts your movements by tugging on your hair again. Curling your fingers around his shirt, you huff a breath of annoyance, whining out his name. “I’ll be good,” you promise, and let out a relieved sigh when he lets go of your hair to give you more freedom to move; you thank him with a few kisses.

“I know you will.” Lewis mumbles, hands finding your underwear again, but he quickly becomes frustrated when he realises the position you’re in will make it hard for him to get you out of them. So, taking an executive decision, he decides to rip them off your body. He gives you a look when you whine at the loss of your favourite pair, and he tries to salve the situation with a promise of buying you another pair. When you feel him between your legs, without any barriers this time, he is not surprised to see your immediate reaction. Though Lewis enjoys when you take control, he is impatient as he raises your hips, despite all your protest, and positions you over his cock.

You only have a few moments to adjust when he eventually lowers you onto his cock, and the initial stretch has you gasping out his name. He gives you a few minutes to adjust before slowly starting to move your hips, each move making you take him deeper until he’s buried to the hilt in you. One of your hands is pressed to the window for support out of reflex, trying to keep still as he uses the grip he has on your hips to move you in the rhythm he wants. It matches the mood pretty well, you think, everything is rushed and the sounds of the traffic and the music playing surrounding you becomes muffled as the pleasure takes over your body. You have to physically stop yourself from screaming every time he slams you down on his cock, faster and harder each time, relentless as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

Trying your best to match his thrusts, you grind your clit on every down stroke, making him somehow go even deeper, and making you moan even louder. There is an arrogant smirk on his face that you would love to wipe off, but with the way he’s making you feel, you decide to get him away with it. Dragging your hands down his shirt, you suddenly feel offended by the fact that he is covering his chest, and decide to get him out of it. This plan would’ve worked better if it weren’t for the fact that you end up ripping the buttons rather than being gentler with it. Not that Lewis complains about it, since this is most definitely not the first time something like this has happened. Your hands work on their own as you glide them through the smooth skin, slightly damp due to the warm temperature of the car, but every contact with his skin seems to make you roll your hips faster and harder.

He has to close one of his hands over your mouth since the moans that leave you get considerably higher in volume with every waking second. His lips curl up in a smile as you silently beg him with your eyes, your movements becoming sloppier with every down stroke. “I’m going to remove my hand and help you come, but you’re going to be a good girl and keep quiet, okay?” His voice carries a warning tone, and you frantically nod, assuring him that you’ll follow his instructions.

Keeping true to his word Lewis takes away his hand, making you take a deep breath as he grabs your hips. His hold on your hips is bruising, and you’re certain you’ll have marks to remember tonight for a while – especially with the way he uses his hold to move you on his cock in a rhythm he wants to. It doesn’t take you a long time to feel the overwhelming pleasure starting to build up in your lower stomach. “Please,” you whine, nails biting into his skin as your other hand is splayed over the window for support, “I’m so close.”

“Come on,” Lewis encourages you, hands working you over his cock even faster to get you where you need to be, “give it to me, I got you.” And with him looking at you like that, using your body however he wants to? It doesn’t take long for you to feel yourself coming around him, head thrown back and lips parted in a silent scream. With a last thrust, you feel him also spill himself into you, the act being greatly intimate despite the current predicament you’re both in at that moment.

A sound of surprise leaves the back of your throat when he begins to move under you, positioning you to stand on all fours as he positions himself behind you. “Wha– What are you doing?” You ask, craning your neck to look at him with hazy eyes.

“Oh, Peaches,” he coos, one of his hands caressing your skin down your thighs and up towards your hip again, “did you think we were done? We still have a long way back to the hotel.”

“But, the club?” You find yourself asking, cheeks burning when he uses his finger to push the wetness dripping out of you back in.

“We were never going to make it to that club anyway,” Lewis drags his lips up your spine until he reaches your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck before whispering, “what do you think? Should we make the most out of the way back?”

Your eyes slide towards the handprints left on the window, the Paris lights shining through the streaks both of your handprints have left behind. Maybe under different circumstances you would’ve insisted you go to the club to meet with your friends. But at that moment? You instinctively push your hips back onto his, and feel his smile on your skin as he runs his hands through your body, ready for another round simply because you two can’t keep away from each other.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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mrsbarnesblog · 23 days

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i need help

summary: Rafe has a breakdown and he finally asks for help

word count: 1.4k

warnings: angsty and fluffy?, crying, mentions of drugs and alcohol, ward is the worst father (this is ward’s hate space btw💋)

a/n: I just want to baby him. so yeah, soft/clingy Rafe again because apparently, I can’t write anything else right now🙂

You were sitting on Rafe’s bed, patiently listening to his firm footsteps on the staircase. The room was dimly lit only by a lamp from the nightstand and you fought back an urge to fall on your back and fall asleep with your face in his pillow.

Yet the harsh and cold voice made your head clear of your thoughts and you finally noticed your best friend walking into his own room.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe grumbled at you as soon as he slammed the door, turned the lock and turned around, only to see you sitting on his bed.

“What?” His bloodshot eyes were burning holes into you and you innocently blinked at him, not understanding why he was acting so weird.

“I said, what–”

“Don’t yell at me.” You interrupted him calmly. “We wanted to hang out; it’s been a few days since it was just the two of us. You never complain when I come here.”

“Ye-yeah, fuck…sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You watched how Rafe started pacing around the room, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He was almost shaking, his hair looking like a mess, and you would’ve thought that he was on the verge of tears. “I’m not in the mood right now, okay? We’ll do it another time. Can you leave now? I– I need to be alone.”

“No, Rafe, I’m not leaving. What happened?” Your brows furrowed, concern and nerves bubbling inside of your body as you watched how your friend and the guy you had a crush on was slowly breaking down.

“Nothing. Nothing happened, Y/N.” He mumbled, still not staying in one place. “Just go.”

“I told you no.”

“Why can’t you listen to what I’m fucking telling you?!” Rafe snapped, stepping closer to you as if he were trying to scare you away. Yet you remained still in your place, not even flinching. Your brows shot up in silent question, eyes were glued to his face, and especially to the way his own eyes became more glassy and watery with every second. “Fuck, fuck—I'm sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to yell at you.”

“Then don’t. You know I hate it when you’re doing it, Rafe.” You continued calmly. “Sit here and tell me what happened. I see that something’s wrong. It’s been that way for a long time, right? You’re acting differently… C’mere.” You patted the bed near you, giving Rafe a reassuring smile.

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N.” Sitting near you on the bed and holding his head in his hands, Rafe spoke so quietly that you could barely hear him. “I’m going insane. I have issues and nobody hears me.” You slowly, as if you were touching a wounded animal, put your hand on his back, slowly moving it up and down.

“Tell me. I’m here and I hear you. Please tell me what’s going on.” You tried to sound as soft as you could, moving a little bit closer. “You know you can trust me.”

“There’s something wrong with me. I— I have thoughts in my head that I don’t like. They’re bad. They’re wrong. I don’t want to be violent or feel these things inside of me but I c-can’t stop. They’re stronger than I am and sometimes they’re messing with my head.” Rafe’s voice cracked at the end and you felt the violent beating of your heart in your chest. He sniffed a few times, desperately trying to be strong in front of you and to hide the disgusting things that were eating him up alive.

“Are they dangerous to others or to you?”

“Both.”

You slowly nodded, processing the information and trying not to show the way it actually freaked you out. Did you know that Rafe struggled with anger and was not everyone's favorite person? Well, yes. He was nothing but sweet to you, though. You saw that he was a nice person, with a good heart. The only thing that he wanted in return was to feel needed, important, and loved.

And you always gave it to him.

But realizing that there were problems so much deeper and that he was now screaming for help because he could not live like that anymore made you wonder how you could be so stupid to not notice the signs earlier.

“Did you talk to your dad about it? Maybe anyone else? Or is it just me? ” You finally reached Rafe's face with your hand, turning him in your direction. You’ve never seen him even shed a tear, not to mention the state that he was in right now and it was shocking how much it hurt you too. The look in his pretty eyes was so desperate and so hurtful that you felt sick.

“He told me to man up. Cool, right? Can’t even do shit without disappointing him. I–I said that I have problems, but he just ignored it. He told me to rest and that it'd be okay.” He smiled at you, even though tears were still freely streaming down his face. “I just thought that maybe once he would hear me. See me. Not Sarah. I’m so fucking tired of it.” He shook his head and looked down. “So it’s only you. Nobody really cares about me anyway, so...”

“Oh, Rafe… Come here.” He wasn’t resisting when you dragged him closer to you by his arm. No, instead, he wrapped his arms around you as if his life were depending on it. You hugged Rafe back, slowly lowering both of you on the bed, until he was lying almost on top of you with his face in the crook of your neck and your fingers slowly brushing through his hair.

What you noticed is that Rafe was always cautious with physical contact. Sometimes it seemed like he tried to be closer to you, sit near you, or casually play with your hands or hair, but the next day he was completely dispant and hesitant.

It was obvious that now Rafe lowered his guards; he let you see the damaged parts of him and he craved your touch because it was the only thing that could ground him.

“I need help. I’m tired of this shit in my head, and I don’t want to continue ruining my life with alcohol and drugs…but it just calms everything down for some time and I don’t know how to come out of this circle.” Rafe sobbed harder, his arms wrapping around you even more, until you were closer than you'd ever been before. Your own eyes were filled with tears, but you refused to show them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a disappointment. P-please don’t walk away.”

You knew about Rafe’s lifestyle, but despite your words, he always made it seem like not a big deal, like something fun that he does at parties. Though now it was obvious that the facade that he had built was slowly falling down and drowning him in it too.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Rafe. It’s not your fault. But you do need help, darling.” You whispered, pet name rolling from your tongue faster than you could’ve processed it. “It’s important that you understand it. And I’m not leaving. It’s the last thing that should be in your head.”

“I do. I want to get clean. I want to be normal. I just don’t know how.”

“That’s okay. I’m here for you, yeah? Your dad may not hear you, but I do and I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out together tomorrow, okay? Now you need to rest a little bit.” You reached the end of the bed, dragging a duvet and covering both of you with it. Rafe didn't move an inch from your warmth.

“You promise?”

“I promise, Rafe. You mean a lot to me; you know that, right? More than you think.” You whispered, soothingly brushing his blond hair again.

“You mean a lot to me too. More than you think.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff

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sytoran · 2 months

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⋆⭒˚｡★ ❝MILE HIGH CLUB❞ ★ n.romanoff !

pairing ★ sub!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

synopsis ★ on a plane ride to dubai for a romantic getaway, natasha takes matters into her own hands, and your cock into her own mouth. (oops?)

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, semi-public sex, jealous natasha is scarily hot, you are not the lord's strongest soldier, you have a cock, you almost get caught (kind of)

word count ★ 2.6k (IM BACKKK!!!! ...for now)

With Thor, Valkyrie and Carol back on Earth for about two weeks or so, you and Natasha were relieved of your Avenger duties. And what better way to spend the restful break than going on a romantic getaway to Dubai with the love of your life?

On the eighth of the eleven-hour flight, you were perfectly content to lounge in the luxuries of first-class, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. But it seems that for the Avenger who was constantly on her feet, Natasha didn't deal well with ennui.

“I’m bored, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to your girlfriend’s hidden agenda, you paid little mind to Natasha’s statement, continuing to watch the subpar rom-com playing on the aeroplane screen in blissful ignorance.

“Sorry, baby, I know it’s a long flight. You wanna watch this movie with me?”

Natasha lets out an aggravated huff. Because of course you didn’t know the effect you had on her. As much as the whole Avenger getup was as bold as it was impressive, this laid-back version of you really showcased the underlying details that marked her attraction to you.

Thin-rimmed reading glasses sat atop your nose, stray hairs framing the delicacy of your sharp cheekbones and marble-cutting jawline. With a tight-fitting black turtleneck that strained under the bulkiness of your sinful biceps, cut from the finest vibranium, and loosely-hung grey sweatpants that finished off the whole look — Natasha was just about ready to start sucking you off.

That passing thought had just been one of amusement, rhetorical and hyperbolic, seemingly impossible but altogether funny. But then Natasha takes a few steps back, figuratively, and considers it again — and a smile likened to a scheming devil crawls upon her face.

Well, Widows always got what they wanted, didn’t they?

“Y/N,” Natasha purrs, intently pressing into your side.

“Mhm?” you hum, reaching out a hand to entwine it with hers. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You still bored?”

Your reaction was simply so innocent and angelic that Natasha almost felt bad for the devil-spawned arbitrary ploy she was about to enact.

Suddenly surging forward, Natasha lifts up the armrest that separates your seats, closing the distance between her and a trip down to hell, and lets a hand cup the mouth-watering bulge in your grey sweatpants.

“I said I’m bored, Daddy,” she whispers into your ear. “Mommy wants to play.”

The loud half-splutter, half-cough that resounds around the enclosed space around the two of you within the aeroplane is immaculate.

You choke on inhaled air, looking around at the other passengers with disbelief and anxiety, as if you had been scandalised.

And maybe you had been. Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you desperately try to look away from the tantalising cleavage shoved in front of your sinning eyes.

Natasha’s low-cut top had you fighting every calvary in your mental war, and you struggle to regain a semblance of composure.

“But, uhm, Daddy wants to remind Mommy that we’re surrounded by complete strangers,” You whisper urgently, a handsome flush overtaking your features. “And that we are very well-known Avengers across the globe, so if we were to get caught we would end up on every news headline for the next month. And if it reaches Fury, well, we’d be in shit ton of trouble.”

Your state of arousal is unhelpfully heightened further when you notice that Natasha is eyeing your growing erection like a hawk, front teeth sinking into her ruby-red lip, ready to take strike and devour its prey.

“Oh darling, you know I’m a whore for attention,” Natasha replies loftily, and the silky-smooth way that the word ‘whore’ rolls off her tongue triggers a jolt of arousal straight to the tent in your sweatpants.

When Natasha begins caressing the hefty bulge in between your legs, a low groan emits from the depths of your throat and it melts in Natasha’s lower belly in the form of molten arousal.

“Natasha, as much as I want to rail you senseless in this very second—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think that this is a good idea—”

“Stop thinking, then,” Natasha responds as if it’s the most simple answer in all of the galaxy, and before you can come up with another futile reason to deter her girlfriend’s libido, Natasha launches into action.

In a fraction of a second that could have rivalled Spiderman’s speed, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt and sinks to her knees in front of your seat. Another upside of first-class was the spacious legroom which Natasha fully utilised. Ducking under your blanket, she drapes it over her hunched figure and tucks herself neatly between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, fumbling to unbuckle your own seatbelt and letting Natasha slide down your sweatpants. Social decency be damned, for when Natasha Romanoff presented herself to you, ripe for the taking, no one simply denied themself of that glorious heaven.

Deft fingers tug down black Calvin Klein boxers, and a huge, hardened cock springs out of its confinement. You exhale shakily as a hand wraps around the base, and a feather-light finger trails over its girthy length.

“I’m not surviving this, am I?” You mutter underneath your breath, leaning back into the seat. In response, Natasha gives kitten licks to the pre-cum emerging at your heady tip, so saintly and sinful all the same.

Guiding the head of your cock to a hot mouth, Natasha leisurely wraps her lips around the shaft. Your iron-hard grip on the armrest was almost completely useless in the face of regaining normalcy, not when the feeling of velvet lips set alight every nerve on her body.

“Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, your face contorting into one of pleasure. Darkened eyes fixate unto the blanket Natasha was hidden under, and your wandering mind fuels an image of your girlfriend’s hollowed cheeks and pliant mouth, to which you almost fall apart there and then.

Dirty, scandalous and filthy was being able to feel Natasha’s tongue swirl around your cock without seeing it happen. Your lack of sight heightened the sensitivity of your other senses by tenfold, and you had to physically restrain herself from bucking your hips forward.

Without warning, Natasha tilts her head up, ruffling the blankets, and then engulfs your cock in the threshold of her throat.

“Oh, Thanos' head on a fucking stick—”

“Excuse me ma’am, what can I get for you today?”

Your eyes fly open in a nanosecond, head jerking to the source of distraction. There in the aisle stood an air stewardess with a push-cart and a smile just a little too wide.

“Uh, uhm, just a water would be fine,” you choke out, attempting to exhale steadily as if you hadn’t been about to combust in your girlfriend's mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Right away, ma’am,” The stewardess answers. “You getting hot and bothered from the show?” She asks harmlessly, a smirk tugging up on her face.

You take a moment to understand the jest. Before you the shitty rom-com is still playing, except now there's a badly orchestrated sex scene playing, where the male actor is trying too hard to act as if he’s doing any good. It doesn’t do you any good that your face is flushed and evidently flustered, but for different yet similar reasons.

A false laugh escapes your lips, in hopes of driving the woman away. “What! No, no way. I’m all good here.”

You swear you can smell the jealousy radiating off from Natasha in leaps and bounds, and you decide it is best to end the conversation before Natasha fuses and convulses simultaneously.

God forbid Natasha decides to start deepthroating your cock at that exact moment.

You let out a ragged groan in front of the stewardess, as a hot mouth engulfs your cock in quick succession, sucking back and forth with an esteemed fervour.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The lady asks, leaning closer, reaching out a hand to pat the side of your face.

You lean back, rapidly attempting to steady your breathing, and failing miserably. Natasha’s bobbing her head up and down with energised vigour, determined in her mission.

“Y-yeah, it’s really alright. Th-thanks, again.”

Just as you thought all was done and dusted, the air stewardess looks around cautiously. She leans closer to you with batted eyelashes and a supposedly seductive wink.

Then, in a low and sultry voice that seals your fate, the woman says, “Let me know if you need anything special, handsome.” You choke back a moan as Natasha twists her head, her talented tongue doing wonders to her cock.

The lady can’t get out of your sight any slower.

The moment the air stewardess disappears into the confines of the next cabin, footsteps fading away, Natasha's head whips out of the blanket, furrowed brows and an aggravated expression taking you by storm.

“‘Let me know if you need anything special, handsome!?’ Who does that whore think she is? Baby, do note that it’s taking me very large amounts of self-restraint not to get up right now and slap her silly. I can’t believe that an air stewardess would hit on anyone so openly like that, much less you! God, Y/N, I—”

Natasha’s stream of enjambments decrescendos into a meek silence at the look on your face.

Evanescent was the abrupt change in your demeanour, as if a switch had been flicked, as if the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just the two of them left.

Natasha’s cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because that look on your face only meant one thing.

A set jaw, glinting in the light — cut marble sculpted from the finest hands. Eyes that descend into such deep hues that Natasha feels like she’s drowning like the Titanic, downwards towards the depths of hell.

“Less talking, baby, more sucking.”

A rough hand finds Natasha’s head under the blanket and her hair is tugged on forcefully, jerking it forward to engulf the entirety of your cock. Natasha is more than happy to comply.

Natasha’s pretty gag is lost in the sound of the ongoing turbulence, and you grunt and drag those velvet walls down the length of your cock again. If Natasha decided to act like a brat, you could sure as hell treat her like one.

Up and down, up and down, and the way you manhandle Natasha to deepthroat a solid eight inches should be considered an Avengers-level threat. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the tears welling up in Natasha’s eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, strands of hair clinging to beads of sweat that adorn her face.

You're not too sure if the wet and squelching noises you hear are from Natasha's slick throat or a figment of your ever-rampant imagination. Either way, the contracting waves of Natasha’s throat around your cock is downright sinful, pretty and easy and oh so pliant.

From base to tip and tip to base, a preordained promise of paradise hangs in the atmosphere, and with each passing stroke, you barrel towards that high. You thrust hard into Natasha's throat, stretching it out, filling it up.

You lose yourself in the wet heat of Natasha’s mouth, your cock being stimulated in such heavenly eloquence of Natasha’s tongue. As an Avenger, you've fought a thousand battles, but none of them have ever quite left you as breathless as this one.

You're awfully close.

In the haze of being used like a mindless fucktoy, Natasha’s hand slips up the expanse of your clenched thigh muscle, and proceeds to toy with the heavy sack of balls. You groan, gripping Natasha’s hair tighter, tugging her downwards.

You're really, really close.

Your ears prick up as a sound emits from under the blanket, and your keen hearing picks up a whiny moan that sounds an awful lot like “Daddy, please”.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha’s helpless plea is what causes you to tumble over the edge of precipice, waves crashing and planets colliding as your vision becomes pure, unadulterated, white heat. “Fuck,” you grunt, a dragged-out groan from your chest, a ringing emblem of castle walls that crumble down.

Streaks and streaks of milky, white fluid are released into the depths of Natasha’s throat, coating her velvet walls, thick and creamy as it splatters against pink walls. Contented moans resound from Natasha, as she continues to suck on your extensive cock like it’s her last lifeline, like she might as well perish without it.

For a brief moment, you question your existence in the universe, and how remarkably infinitesimal you feel, hanging kilometres above the wide open sea and nothing else.

Be it land or sea or stars, though, you think you've found your muse, your reason for staying.

“Natasha,” you breathe out, like a sacred prayer, like a haunted blessing, as pleasure overrides your system.

You don’t recall quite how long you stay in that exact position, a hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head, rocking gently thorugh the aftershocks, Natasha’s palm resting on the side of your thigh.

Sentience gradually floats back into your capability, and you slowly blink as you arise from your out-of-body experience. “Well, shit,” you mumble, the aeroplane filtering into view, the snores from sleeping passengers around you becoming audible again.

Once the coast was deemed clear, you lift up the blanket covering your lap, but it turns out to be a dreadful decision as the sight of Natasha almost causes you to roll back into another orgasm.

Natasha’s previously neat hair was now a complete mess, sticking to her mouth and the sides of her face in the heat of sweat and slick. What used to be perfect, unblemished eyeshadow was now a runny mess due to Natasha’s tears, and a nude shade of bottle-red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and your semi-erect cock.

Lowered lashes shielded a smokey gaze, nearly all black, and you can feel herself hardening again, like you hadn’t just received a filthy blowjob that would make the heavens blush.

Immediately, that image of Natasha Romanoff was imprinted into her mind for an eternity to come, saved for future purposes.

By some saintly miracle, none of the passengers surrounding had awoken, and Natasha successfully crawls back into her seat with an all-too-smug smile.

“How was it?” She asks innocently, batting those lashes with a seductive head-tilt.

“I don’t know, maybe you should’ve moaned ‘Please, Daddy,’ just a little louder,” you retort quickly, no bite behind your words, delighting in the pink flush that adorns your girlfriend’s cheeks.

On about the ninth hour of the flight, approximately one hour after Natasha drew out an earth-shattering orgasm from your megalithic shaft, you effectively draws closer to Natasha, with crossed arms that unhelpfully accentuate the bulge of your biceps.

“Let me rail you in the toilet?”

“Y/N L/N, I am not sitting my bare ass on that filthy bathroom counter. I don't wish to end up with an STI."

“Who says I need to a counter to fuck you, hm?”

──── ☆ ⋅ ★ ⋅ ☆ ────

After three splendid orgasms, more abundant wails of ‘Daddy, please’ emitting from the toilet, and that same, very embarrassed flight stewardess politely requesting for them to get the fuck out, you and Natasha land in Dubai, officially kickstarting your romantic getaway with a bang.

Literally, quite a bang.

haven't written something new in forever, hopefully this is enough to satiate you gremlins' desires... (but forreal tho, thanks for sticking around) reblog or i'll hunt you down and NOT post for 12493482 years

main m.list

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #marvel smut #natasha romanoff #x reader #gxg smut #wlw smut #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader smut #butch4femme #hornynat is my favourite nat #top reader #dom reader #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff

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sunkissedrafe · 1 month

Note

bffs w rafe and he’s obsessed w you. wakes you up by sneaking into your room and yall do stuff 🤭

Locked

summary: the request above!:)

word count: 3.3k

(SPOILERS) warnings: somnophilia(sleeping), dubcon, p in v, fingering, male masturbation, secretive photos, breaking and entering, unprotected sex. MDNI!

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

You really don’t know how it all happened the way it did.

The way Rafe took you under his wing all those years ago. The way he’s constantly glued to your side, going as far as attending parties full of pogues, sticking out like a sore thumb while he marches around, grabbing you another beer when you need it or shooing away the belligerent drunk men trying to hit on you.

Things like this aren’t the norm.

Boys like him just aren’t friends with girls like you. He’s used to a life of luxury; boats, tropical vacations, the most expensive clothes made of materials you can’t even pronounce.

You consider yourself lucky if your water isn’t shut off when you got home after a long day of sweating and panting in the heat.

But the world works in crazy ways, and Rafe Cameron is your best friend.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The two of you sit on the edge of your bed, controllers in hand as you peer up at the screen with wide eyes.

“No, no… Rafey!” You squeal as the screen flashes, letting your head drop down, your hair falling across your face with a huff.

He chuckles smugly. “What, kid?” He nudges you with his shoulder, a sly grin written across his face and amusement laced into his voice.

“You said you’d let me win this round.” You mumble, dropping the controller onto the plush rug below your feet.

“What the point in that?” He laughs as he pushes himself to stand. “Like… how would that even be any fun?” He moves in front of you and nudges your forehead with his fingers so that you look up. You trail your gaze up to his own, his blonde wispy hair brushing his brows. “Quit bein’ a baby.” He gives your jaw a light, playful tap.

You flutter your eyes at him before giving him a scowl, falling onto your back and staring at the ceiling as his footsteps audibly trail across your room.

You hear him fumbling with something near your window and turn your head to the side, raising your brows as he turns around holding your planter with a cactus you’ve nearly killed from incorrectly watering it.

“Look at this poor thing,” he chuckles, turning the planter around and examining the plant. “You’ll never have a green thumb.” He laughs and sits the plant down where he found it, patting his pockets as he walks away from his spot.

You sit up and watch as he settles near your bedroom door and grabs his tennis shoes, bending down to pull them over his feet.

“Leaving already?” You ask meekly, already dreading the feeling of his absence though he still stands in the room with you.

“Yeah, gotta go.” He lets out a long sigh as he stands back up to his full height and leans against the door frame. “Got some shit to work through with my dad tonight. I’ll see you soon though.” He walks over to where you sit, grabbing your hands gingerly to help you to your feet. “There’s talks of a party this weekend, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Consider me your plus one.” He mumbles into your hair. His strong arms wrap around your waist and hold you flush against his body, his woody aroma flooding your senses.

You can feel his warm palms through the thin fabric of your shirt. They slide around your body as he pulls away from the embrace, taking home on your hips with a light squeeze. You glance up and his blue eyes are already locked onto yours, a grin pulling at the dimples of his cheeks.

“Maybe… practice the game a little bit until then, hm?” He speaks lowly.

“Rafe Cameron!” You shout, slapping at his chest as he puts his hands up in defense, chuckling as he steps back.

“Let me know when to pick you up.” He gives you one final grin before shutting your door gently.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but you took Rafe’s advice to heart and stayed awake as long as your eyes would stay open- practicing that damn game.

You lay peacefully, breathing deep and smoothly atop your blankets with the controller still loosely in your right hand. Your headset is still somehow on your head, softly playing the background music from the loading screen as you hadn’t had a chance to shut it off before your eyes gave out.

You don’t even stir when Rafe slides your window open, being as careful as he can to avoid the glass planter on your windowsill as he creeps into the warmth of your room. He carefully slides the glass shut once more, bringing a shaky hand up and flipping the latch, locking the window that he had made sure was unlocked earlier unbeknownst to you.

I can’t be crazy, she definitely wants me too. Right?

He turns around with a breath held deep in his lungs, praying to any god he can that the floorboards won’t creak beneath his shoes and that his best friend wouldn’t be awake.

His gaze falls onto your sleeping body, soft and still, and he slowly lets out the breath he had been holding in. The light from the screen illuminates your skin, glowing with the different colored hues as it flashes. He takes discreet, soundless steps towards you as he allows his eyes to rake over your figure.

Your hair is beautifully messy, strewn around on the pillow that you lay back against. He pays close attention to your tiny fingers that lazily wrap around the handle of the controller, one arm draped above your head and the other laid out to the side. He peers at your stomach, watching it rise and fall as you breathe.

His eyes wander up. You’re clad in the same tank top you’d been in when he left, but the way your nipples strain against the thin fabric just begging to be touched leads him to the conclusion that you ditched the bra.

It’s like she wants me to look.

I’ll look. I won’t touch her. I’ll look and leave. And then we’ll never think or speak about this again.

He takes microscopic steps toward your bed, his heart pounding against his sternum. His knees graze the edge of the mattress as he closes in on you and he gasps lightly, backing up so he doesn’t cause the bed to dip.

His face turns red, veins protruding from his skin as he holds in every ounce of oxygen he can to lean down beside you, placing his ear next to the side of your headset. He smirks to himself when he hears the music in the speakers, standing back to his full height.

He shoves a hand into his back pocket, fishing around and digging for his phone. He pulls it out and opens his camera, holding it up for the best angle and capturing a perfect image of his clueless best friend asleep in bed.

She doesn’t know how perfect she is.

Something inside of him wants more, wants to touch every inch he can. But he can’t, he has a goal and a plan. Get in and look then get the fuck out.

What would a couple more pictures hurt?

It’s like he moves in slow motion, he can’t control it as he reaches out and grabs the bottom hem of your tank top. You’d think he was performing brain surgery as he inches it up, exposing more and more of the fleshy skin of your abdomen. He wants to brush his fingertips along your skin, to feel every part of you along the way, but he can’t rush this.

Get the picture and go.

He watches as your plump tits spill out from the fabric, jiggling into place and sitting atop your chest, fully bared to him. His breath hitches and he pulls his hand away, gulping as your lashes flutter ever so slightly. You stir for a moment but you stay asleep.

A wave of relief floods through his body and he lifts his phone again, shakily clicking the shutter button. He takes so many more photos than necessary, moving and catching all the angles of your perfect breasts.

It’s like he loses himself. His pulse surges in his ears, beating so loud he’s almost convinced you can hear it over the music. His body betrays his logical mind and before he knows it, his fingertips brush over your delicate skin. He lets out a groan, feeling his pants tighten against his crotch as he moves to touch the other nipple.

To his surprise, your eyes remain closed and the rhythm of your breathing stays steady.

He swipes his phone over to the video setting, hitting the record button as he palms the fat of your tits, letting his fingertips dig into the skin lightly. His veiny hand explores your chest as the camera picks up all the evidence. He allows his hand to slide down the valley of your breasts, slipping across to your ribcage and down to your hip before he stops dead in his tracks.

This is too much of a risk, you’re being fucking crazy.

He stops his recording and shoves his phone back away into his pocket, biting his lip as he scans your body one last time.

Your body reacts to the loss of heat quickly. Your brows furrow and your cherry tinted lips form into a pout. Your legs stretch and move as your busy subconsciously tries to find a more comfortable position. Your leg falls to the side and your head turns the opposite way.

Rafe is frozen solid the entire time, too scared to even blink. He stays that way for a couple minutes, feet locked into his spot and watching you closely for any signs of rousing from your slumber.

But to his surprise, you don’t. You stay blissfully unconscious, your tits still exposed to him.

He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until it’s too late. His cock throbs in the palm of his hand as he grips the base, choking back groans as he begins to slowly pump his length.

This isn’t bad, right? It’s just jacking off. I’m a man and she’s got a nice rack. She would understand.

He bites his tongue and presses it into his cheek as he tightens his grip around his needy member. His tip is red and weeping, streams of precum oozing out and dripping down the rolling veins that decorate his shaft.

He slowly inches closer, dragging his feet across the floor as he speeds up his needy movements. The muscles in his forearm tense and ripple as he desperately pumps himself, waves of dopamine shooting throughout his bloodstream as he stands beside your sleeping body.

I’m fucking sick.

He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t help it. He reaches out and lets his hand run up your smooth calf, shuddering at the contrast of the smooth skin against the rough pads of his fingers. They trail up carelessly to the expanse of your thighs and he has to hold back the animalistic urge to squeeze your skin.

Come on Rafe, stop it. Stop here.

His internal battle proves itself to be irrelevant as he does in fact squeeze the skin, his other hand giving his pulsing cock the same amount of pressure.

His breath hitches in his throat and he feels like any composure he’s had is long gone.

He brings his hand up and pulls your shorts to the side, not even caring about the audible moan that falls from his lips when he takes in the sight of your wet pussy.

He bites his lip until he tastes the metallic tinge of blood, sliding his hand up and down his cock as his thumb brushes over your clit with featherlight pressure.

You begin to stir, your body jolted by the foreign feeling, but he doesn’t seem to care. He lets the pad of his thumb press down onto the tender bundle and slide down to your entrance, dipping into your sweet center. He pulls back and traces his index finger across your wet slit before pushing in.

“Sh..shit…” he speaks aloud, sitting onto the mattress.

The sudden shift causes you to snap your eyes open, your vision hazy as it adjusts to the light. Before you can even form a coherent thought you’re suddenly aware of the pressure inbetween your legs. You blink harshly, clearing your eyes of the remaining haze and look up to see two blue eyes staring back at you.

His mouth is moving but you can’t make out his words.

Sitting up abruptly, you scoot back and rip the headset off of yourself, tossing it haphazardly into the floor.

“Rafe?” You squeal in shock, your pulse pumping wildly through your veins.

“Shhh.. sweetheart. Please!” He nearly begs, scooting closer to you. “You’ll wake your whole family.”

You look down and notice his right fist gripping around his cock.

“Just relax, okay?” He whispers.

He hooks his finger into your gummy walls and you let out a strained gasp, looking down to see your best friend knuckle deep in your pussy.

“R-rafe… what a-” you choke on your words as he withdraws his finger and plunges back in.

“It’s okay… shhh.. feels good, doesn’t it?” He murmurs, moving his thumb up to rub circles onto your swollen clit.

Your fatigue ridden brain is having trouble keeping up as waves of confusion and pleasure spread throughout your body.

“It… I don- fuck. W-what are you doing here?” You whine, your hips instinctively bucking closer to his hand despite your best judgement.

“Just wanted to look at you.” He croaks as he resumes his jerking motions on himself. “Then I… I just couldn’t help myself.”

The desperation in his eyes shouldn’t turn you on. The way you woke up to your best friend touching your body shouldn’t turn you on.

But even still you find yourself rhythmically grinding against his hand, dropping every single question from your mind as his finger brushes against a sensitive knot in your core.

“Yeah, there you go.” He coos, scooting closer to you and releasing his grip on his erection to paw at your tits. “So fucking pretty. Wanted to put them in my mouth so bad.”

“So do it.” You say before you can even think, reaching up to rid yourself of the fabric that served no purpose anymore.

A smirk grows from ear to ear before he leans forward, cupping the area right below your breast and right above your ribcage to push your skin into his mouth. He doesn’t stop the curling movement of his finger, he adds another one into your now drenched pussy as he sucks and licks at your nipple. You can’t help but arch your back into him, using both of your shaking arms to keep yourself propped up. He hums and groans against your skin as he removes his fingers from your core and hooks a strong arm around you, ridding you of the struggle and pulling you into his lap.

“Let me fuck you.” He whispers against your neck as he leaves hot open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin.

You do nothing but nod eagerly, lifting yourself off enough to pull your shorts off in a rushed motion, him yanking his jeans and boxers down in the process. He reaches behind his head to grip the neckline of his shirt and toss it to the side. He grips the base of his cock as you sit back down and slaps it against your core, making you shudder at the sting it leaves on your aching clit.

He holds himself steady as you line his head up with your entrance, slowly sinking down to take in his length. The stretch is blissfully painful, and you take your time to let yourself adjust to him. One of his hands settles on your hip and encourages you down while the other rests against your throat, not adding pressure but leaving a tingling burn where it sits. When you sit fully down his head falls back and his fingers dig into your skin, gripping around your hipbone.

“So… so fucking big.” You sigh, rolling your hips back and forth.

His ego visibly inflates and he nods slyly. “I know. And look at you taking every fucking inch.”

A strained whine digs its way from deep in your chest and echoes off the walls as you lift yourself up and sink back down. His thick cock pushes against your clenching walls and fills you up beyond what you’d ever thought was possible. You get your rhythm and start bouncing up and down, crying out each time his tip kisses your cervix.

“Gotta be quiet, baby doll. Your parents would never let me over again if they knew I was fucking their little innocent princess like this.” He whispers and runs his fingers over your bottom lip, eyes widening when you accept them and let him lay them flat across your tongue.

You hum around his digits and whimper when he bucks his hips up to meet your own, sending a shockwave through your core. He takes notices and does it over and over, a satisfied glint apparent in his hooded eyes.

Your walls contract and squeeze around his throbbing length as the tension in your stomach threatens to snap. You flash your doe eyes at him and swirl your tongue around his fingers as he pounds into you from below, every ragged breath that falls from his mouth fanning across your skin.

“You’re close.” He says matter of factly. “Give it to me.”

He moves the hand on your hip to the space where the two of you meet, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit. You’re coming undone around him before you have time to utter a response, biting down on his knuckles and clawing at the skin of his chest. The pleasure tears through you like a wildfire, every synapse in your brain firing and focused on the orgasmic relief Rafe is giving you.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and moves both hands to your hips, lifting you up and down like a toy as he ruts into your pussy. “Gonna let me cum in you? Let me.” He grits his teeth as if he’s holding back. “Tell me to cum in you.”

“R-rafe, please.. cum in me. Don’t want you to pull out.”

With the dirty confirmation he craved, he releases, spilling hot white ropes of cum into you and painting every inch of your walls. You feel his warmth flood your core and you slump against his chest, rocking with every deep breath he heaves.

You sit like this for a while, sweaty and sticky and fucked out as he lazily runs his hands up and down your bare back. The beat of his heart against his chest is almost enough to put you back to sleep, but you whine when he lifts you off of his body and sits you back in your original position against your pillows. You sit in silence as he collects his clothes and redresses, smoothing his hair with his hands.

He slowly makes his way back to the bed and uses an arm to keep himself steady as he leans down and places a lingering kiss to your temple. He stands up without a word and walks to your window, undoing the latch and pushing it up. He turns around with a smirk and a deep chuckle before he crouches down.

“Gotta make sure to keep this thing locked.”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

taglist: @stepbrorafe @bunnycvnts @hewwokitti3 @pinkribboncoco @rafesgiirl @beautifuldisaster88

1K notes · View notes

saetoru · 9 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.

and then satoru wins.

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.

and then you remember.

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do.

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.

his breath hitches.

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort.

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow.

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you��re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.

finally, for once, you’re enough.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #geto angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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daisynik7 · 9 months

Text

[M4F] Husband Catches You Listening to Audio P*rn, Teaches You a Lesson [Soft Mdom] [Established Relationship] [Mild Degradation] [Praise] [Overstimulation] [Multiple Orgasms] [Creampie]

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: established relationship, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), sex toys, mutual masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, sex without a condom, creampie, overstimulation, soft dom!Nanami, breeding kink, mild degradation (use of slut and whore), praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names (honey, sweetie, sweetheart, princess, baby)

Summary: Nanami comes home early from his business trip and catches you doing something naughty in your bedroom. Author’s Note: Inspired by all the audio porn VAs that I listen to! Special shoutout to @mrsackermannx for raving about AugustInTheWinter with me. If you have not listened to him yet, PLEASE check him out, he’s incredible. Also, I’m clearly very delulu for Nanami currently, considering this is the third piece I’ve written for him within a week, but hey, this is my outlet! So I hope you enjoy! MDNI divider created by @/cafekitsune. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!

Your skin is sweltering against the sheets, sweat damp on your forehead and neck. Thighs are apart, vibrator buzzing on your clit, sleek with lube and arousal. You’re home alone; Nanami doesn’t return until tomorrow morning. Still, the thought of the audio porn playing on speaker makes you shy, so you have both earbuds in, listening to the sultry tones of your favorite voice actor moaning expletives directly into your ear. Such a good girl, oh fuck. You feel so good, sweetheart. Take that cock for me. You are so fucking tight, holy shit. The added sound effects of thwapping and wet squelches in the background immerse you into a state of erotic bliss, gushing for the second time tonight from the sensation of the toy pulsing on your throbbing bud.

“What do we have here?”

You jolt up when you hear your husband’s voice from the doorway, startled to see him standing there, leaning against the frame with a serious look on his face. His spectacles are on, covering his eyes, which you can tell are boring into you in this lewd position.

Popping your headphones off, you hide the vibrator under the pillow, as if he hasn’t already caught you red-handed. Closing your legs, you bat your eyelashes, feigning an innocent expression. “Honey! What are you doing here?” More heat rushes into your cheeks, scorching hot from your recent orgasm and current embarrassment.

He steps forward, sitting at the far edge of the bed, avoiding your gaze by staring at the floor, acting disappointed. “I managed to catch an earlier flight. Wanted to surprise you.” Dramatic, he turns to face you, eyes narrowed through his tinted lenses. “It appears that I am the one being surprised.”

Biting your lip to hold back your laughter, you crawl towards him, naked from the waist down, your panties discarded on the floor near his feet. He’s not actually upset; having been together long enough and in tune with each other’s emotions, you can tell that he isn’t seriously mad at you. This is a role he indulges in occasionally: stoic, strict husband with a mean streak when things don’t go his way. And you know exactly where this will lead to, so naturally, you play along. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t think you would be coming home tonight. I just thought I’d have a little bit of fun.” You massage his shoulders, nuzzling your face to his nape, giving him a loud smooch.

He shifts around in the bed, confronting you. “What were you listening to?” There’s legitimate curiosity in his voice, and now genuine guilt builds in your chest upon his question.

You swallow hard, anxious to admit the truth, too ashamed to lie to him. “Um, I was listening to porn. Audio porn.”

He raises a brow at you, confused. Then, he says, “Let me hear it.”

Reluctantly, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, resuming from where you paused. Wet slaps blare through the speaker, then a man’s voice, moaning, “Ah fuck, let me hear you. Let me hear you moan on my cock. Let me hear you take this cock. Yeah, like that baby, take it just like that.”

You bury your head in your hands, absolutely mortified as the pornographic dialogue continues. The audio comes to a halt when Nanami stops it, silently tapping at the screen. You’re still hiding in disgrace, squeezing your legs together tightly to conceal the evidence of your supposed sin. The tension is palpable, with neither of you speaking or making any sudden movements. You’re dying to know what he’s thinking, simultaneously terrified of his judgement.

He clears his throat; you peek through your fingers to catch him loosening his tie around his collar, removing the glasses from his face. He’s blushing, brows tight with contemplation. “Did you come to this?” he asks, almost breathless.

You lower your hands, fisting them into the sheets beneath you, nodding. Anticipating.

“Show me,” he demands, eyes at your lap. Too eagerly do you spread your legs, displaying your sopping cunt to him, staring at his lips part slightly, a barely audible growl resounding within his throat. Your uneasiness gradually slips into arousal, aching to be touched, even punished, by your formidable husband. He bows, licking his mouth, inspecting you like prey he’s about to devour. Flicking his eyes to yours, he mutters, “You’re a dirty slut for listening to this filth. Have you no shame?” He kneels before you, unbuttoning his dress shirt, exposing the white tee underneath. Chiseled chest and abs carved into the fabric like fucking marble.

Losing composure, you blurt out, “No shame, absolutely none. I’m fucking filthy.” Your pussy aches, toes clenched, thrilled.

“I can’t stand you listening to another man’s voice while you get off. It makes me sick thinking about it. Makes my blood fucking boil.” His tone is menacing in way that titillates every inch of your skin, has you shuddering from the low growl at the end of each sentence.

“Are you going to punish me?” you goad, saliva collecting on your tongue, heavy with lust.

“I can think of something better.” Reaching for your phone, he navigates through it, finding your voice recorder app. He taps on the big red button, setting it beside you. “From now on, you only come to my voice. Got it?”

You swallow hard, almost chocking on your spit when you respond, “Yes. Yes, baby.”

He grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he cups your cheek tenderly. “Good girl.” His thumb traces the outline of your parted lips, your mouth inviting him in. But he doesn’t, leaning back on his wrists, observing you with the obvious bulge protruding from his slacks. “Get that vibrator. Show me how you do it.”

Obeying, you search for it under the pillow, retrieving it to rub the tip up and down your folds, finger on the trigger. “There you go,” he encourages, a cocky smirk on his face, slowly unbuckling the belt around his waist, sliding it from the loops and tossing it aside. “Tease it a little before you turn it on. Make sure it’s exactly where you want it.”

You tap the toy on your swollen bud, already sensitive from your earlier climax. You meet his gaze, waiting for a signal. He slides out of his pants and briefs, revealing his erection sprung against his belly. Before he does anything else, he grabs your phone and sets it on the bed between you. Palming his length, he grins. “Go ahead.”

What a fucking menace he can be.

Pushing the button, the vibrator immediately pulsates on you, causing you to twitch from the intense sensation. He watches, fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking himself, thumb grazing the slit. “Look at you. My gorgeous girl,” he purrs. “My perfect angel with the prettiest pussy. Can’t wait to stretch you open with this cock. Bury myself deep inside you. Fill you up with my cum.”

“Fuck, Kento,” you whimper, pressing the fluttering tip firmer, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead. You’ve always loved his hands; how pristine they are with his knuckles tight on his skin. Large, strong, then rough on the pads of his fingers from hard work and constant use. They’re even prettier in a fist surrounding his cock, wrist jerking hastily, precum glistening at the tip. Your entire focus is on him touching himself while he watches you do the same, the toy’s low hum enhanced when it’s snugly nestled to your clit.

“You like it when I talk nasty to you, huh?” he huffs, readjusting himself nearer to you. He’s so close, you can practically feel the tip of his cock at your quivering pussy. “Is it better than listening to your ridiculous pornography?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, jutting your hips out, attempting to close the gap.

“Unlike them, I can actually touch you,” he muses, his tip teasing your entrance. “I can do whatever I want, whatever you want. They don’t get to fuck this sweet cunt like I get to. They don’t get to taste you the way I do.”

Suddenly, he grabs the vibrator from your grasp, shutting it off and setting it back under the pillow. He shifts down the bed, positioning his head between your thighs, diving in tongue first onto your puffy clit. Pleasure resonates from your core throughout your limbs, legs shaky and mind hazy as he slobbers all over you, covering your bud in his frothy spit. It’s sloppy, salacious, straight up nasty. After only a few strokes of his tongue, it’s already enough to send you into your third orgasm of the night, more powerful than the first two combined when you were alone.

You’d be a fool to expect him to let up after coming once with him; still, it shocks you when he doesn’t stop. He latches to you harder, suckling on your sensitive clit until it’s plump between his glossy lips and you’re crying out, “Too much!” overstimulated and spasming above him. Sometimes, when he’s in one of these moods, he forgets his own virility, always so keen on making you orgasm multiple times in one go. Tonight, he forgets that you had already been prepping yourself since earlier. With a gentle kiss, he relents, indulging in his work by running his tongue along your gushing pussy, drinking up your cum. He reaches for his cock, stiff between his stomach and the bedsheets under him. On his knees, he returns to his spot from earlier, stroking his cock with the tip just barely in your entrance.

You’re absolutely spent, but you yearn for him inside you, desperate to be filled with his load. “Come in me, baby,” you beg, gripping his wrist to pull him closer. “Fuck me.”

He lets out a disapproving tsk, shaking his head. “Not yet, princess. You have to be patient. We’re just getting started,” he smirks, stroking himself faster. “Are you just so fucking needy for my cum?” You nod erratically, tempted to thrust yourself onto him.

“Then beg for it,” he orders, sliding his cock the slightest bit further inside you. “Convince me that you deserve it.”

Understanding what he wants, you retrieve your little toy again, rubbing small circles with it on your bud, smearing whatever is left of your orgasm around it. “Please, Kento. Please. I need it. I need it.”

The sight of you like this has him dangling on the very edge, so close to climax. “Turn it on,” he demands. You do, the buzz electrifying all the nerves in your body yet again. You chant his name over and over until he shoots insides you, spurts of opaque cum flooding your pussy. “Yes, yes. Good girl. Take that fucking cum. Take all of it. Fuck.” His voice is hushed, breathy and trembling from the high.

You stop the vibrator, tossing it to the floor carelessly. Nanami crawls next to you, cradling you in his arms. With a kiss to your forehead, he whispers, “Are you okay?”

You smile, turning to face him, nuzzling his chest. “Of course.”

He caresses your face, trailing down your body to rest his hand at your waist. He glances at your phone beside you. “We’re still recording, you know.”

You giggle. “And…?”

He kisses you softly, tongue flitting past your lips, guiding you flat on your back, spreading your legs apart. “I’m not done with you yet.” His hand glides to your loins, toying with your swollen clit before teasing your entrance, brimming with his creampie. “Can you still take it, sweetheart?”

You nod, breath hitching, cuddling closer to him. Smiling sweetly at you, he eases a finger in, cum overflowing your pussy and trickling out from your slit. He slides in another easily, stretching you open, a whine escaping you. His mouth is hot on your ear. “You love this, don’t you? Me finger fucking my cum deeper inside you. Taking it like an obedient whore.” He picks up the pace, your cunt clenching his digits. “I’m going to get you pregnant tonight. Breed you, make you mine. You want that, sweetie?” His fingers writhe inside you, hitting that sweet spot repeatedly until you’re tight around him, ready for another orgasm. At this point, you’ve stopped keeping count, lost in a sex-fueled craze instigated by your husband.

“Yes, Kento. Give it to me. I want it. I want it so bad.” You notice he’s hard again, his erection stiffening against your leg. Reaching for him, you rub your hand on his length, feeling it twitch from your touch.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling out from you. He sits up, back to the headboard, beckoning. “Get on my lap. Hurry,” he urges, hoisting you towards him. You straddle him, guiding his cock to your entrance. “Sink down on it. There we go,” he instructs, eyes wide, desperation etched in his tone. He needs this just as much as you do, and it drives you wild. You follow his command, lowering yourself onto him, his dick sliding in smoothly, bottoming out. “That’s my good girl. Fuck. You’re so good to me. So fucking good to me.”

You start riding him the way he likes, your ass slapping loudly on his thighs. He’s moaning endlessly, throwing in the occasional fuck and pet name as he grips your hips, bouncing you on his cock. You wrap your arms around his neck to keep steady, holding him tightly. “Want your cum,” you manage to utter, enraptured in the scorching pleasure he surrounds you in.

He's fucking up into you, feet planted at the end of the bed. The mattress creaks with every thrust of his cock. In a huffy breath, he says, “Milk it out of me, honey. Milk me fucking dry. You can do it sweetheart; I know you can.” The praise encourages you to ride him faster, rougher, your bodies in tandem, springing on the bed, moaning into each other’s mouth with a passionate kiss.

Soon, he pulsates inside you, stuffing you even fuller with his cum. You climax once more, gripping his cock with your fluttering pussy. He cradles you in a cozy embrace, catching his breath, nuzzling his nose to your chest. You giggle, running you fingers through his hair, smooching the top of his head. “You okay?” you ask, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

He nods, exhaling deeply. “Just let me hold you. Need to calm down.”

You laugh, amused by his current state of post-coital euphoria. Fetching the phone teetering precariously at the edge of the bed now, you tap on the red button to stop the recording. Seeing this, he mentions, “You know I don’t actually mind you listening to that kind of stuff, right?”

You smile, noticing the guilt in his voice, massaging his back. “I know, honey. I know you don’t.”

He squeezes you, taking a deep breath. “Okay, good. Just want to make that clear.”

You cup his cheek, thumb caressing the stress lines along his face, gradually relaxing to your touch. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d much rather listen to this than some stranger on the Internet.”

Chuckling, he replies. “Maybe it makes me feel a little bit better.” He snuggles closer to you, hugging you tight, reluctant to let you go. Eventually, the two of you slip beneath the covers, getting comfortable with Nanami spooning you from behind.

You glance at the screen, showing the several minute long recording and the play button adjacent to it, ready to be tapped. “So,” you start, craning your neck to smirk at him. “Should we give it a listen?”

He returns your grin, shifting beside you, cock growing hard between your ass cheeks. “Absolutely.”

#nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #kento nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami x reader #nanami x f!reader #nanami x fem!reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #nanami fanfic #jjk nanami #husband!Nanami #nanami soundgasm

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hanjsquokka · 3 months

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MILF Next Door - [ Han Jisung ]

🐿 SYNOPSIS : Jisung gets a new neighbor and he's completely head over heels. Love at first sight — in his opinion. And he's not going to let an adorable three year old get in the way of true love.

GENRE : strangers to potential lovers, light fluff, smut

PAIRING : neighbor! jisung × fem! single mom reader

CONTENT WARNING : perv! jisung, jisung is a simp and he's horny, mature language, mentions divorce (not between jisung and reader), single parenting, (smut warnings under the cut)

WORD COUNT : 4.5K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : this is just trash tbh but here we go

minors dni. if you click read, you agree to nsfw content

SMUT WARNING : sub leaning jisung, slightly dom reader, oral (m receiving), riding, nicknames (good boy, baby, etc.), jisung has thing for moms, orgasm denial, piv, unprotected sex (pls don't do this)

Jisung was curious — to say the least. He was working on producing a song for his friend Changbin (honestly one of the best rappers Jisung had ever met) when he heard loud thumps from the corridor outside and the apartment next door. He heard a lot of shuffling — thanks to the wonderfully thin walls, and it was safe to say that he had gotten a new neighbor. He'd been trying to get a peek at them, in a completely friendly way obviously, but they seemed really private or they went out a lot. He was just about to assume that it was probably another working adult when one day, he was on the balcony in the morning for some fresh air. He'd been working the whole night and desperately needed to inhale something that wasn't carbon dioxide.

Which was when he spotted... you. You were putting some pots in your balcony, maybe for a few plants. Who was this beauty and why have I never seen her before? You looked pretty. Far too pretty for Jisung to stop staring at you like a literal creep. Thankfully the microwave started beeping loudly, so he had to go back inside and save his re-heated dinner from going cold. When he went back out again, you were gone. All that was left, were a few empty pots and packets of seeds.

I have to see her again.

Jisung not to secretly tried to get another look at his new neighbor, trying to determine when you would go out so he could casually bump into you and say hi. It was highly unlikely you were still single — who would not fall for a pretty girl like that? But he had to try.

After a week, he gave up. Maybe you just wanted to be left alone. He was returning home late one day, tired from his long day at the recording studio with Changbin who was not satisfied even after twenty retakes of the same verse. He was so tired, his vision was blurry and he bumped his foot loudly against the door. "Shit!" He cursed, wincing as he tried to step back. He was just about done with everything when the door next door opened, revealing the insanely pretty girl with concern masking your features. You were wearing pajamas, some part of his brain noted, pajamas with squirrels on them. Why did that make make him feel things?

Great going Jisung. Amazing first impression.

"Sorry, I heard some loud noises — are you okay?" You asked. You pushed away the hair covering your eyes. He took in more of your features. Your wispy bangs, your almost black eyes, your nose, the pink in your cheeks and your lips. Oh god. He could feel all sorts of wild thoughts running through his mind. Most of which were not child friendly.

Jisung couldn't look away. "Yeah. Yeah I'm good. Thank you." He said, mustering a smile to match the one forming on your face. I'm doomed. "You're new... right? I'm Jisung. Han Jisung." Nice save dork.

"Y/n. I've been meaning to introduce myself. I've just been busy and —"

You never had time to finish your sentence because a kid appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and clinging onto your leg. What the — "Mama..."

"Sorry baby, did I wake you up?" You asked softly, picking up the kid in your arms. Jisung's heart was plummeting. No way. No fucking way — "I was just saying to the nice man next door. Say hi." The little boy waved cutely.

Jisung returned the gesture, too stunned to speak. "Is he your...."

"Huh? Yeah —" Your face broke into another huge grin. "This is my son, Sunghwan." The sleepy kid perked up at the mention of his name before starting to doze off again on your shoulder. "I should put him back to sleep. It was nice meeting you Jisung." You bowed and went back inside your house, closing the door behind her, leaving Jisung in a state of utter shock and confusion.

The pretty (sexy) girl next door was not only taken, but you were married and had a kid. Why did the universe like toying with his heart so much? Jisung went inside his own house, closing the door with a grumpy face. He really got too ahead of himself, didn't he?

A few days later, he ran into the pretty married girl with an adorable kid at the supermarket. Well — he ran into your adorable kid first. Jisung was piling up on snacks since he needed the sugar, when he spotted a small child trying to hold onto candy bars and grab more from the shelves. Upon getting a closer look, he noticed it was the kid from next door! He couldn't just leave the little boy, now could he? Not when he knew him. He had to take responsibility as a neighbor and a decent dude to bring him back to his mom.

So he approached the kid. "Hey little guy, where's your mom?" He asked, crouching down to his height. He really was cute (just like his mom).

"She buying vegetables. Bleh." The kid made a disgusted face, making Jisung laugh.

"You don't like vegetables?"

"No. They gross. I like candy!" He said excitedly, holding up the goodies that he piled in his small hands.

"Okay then, what about your dad?"

"Dada sees me every Fri-day.” He said carefully. “Only Mama here.” He looked around in confusion. “Mama?”

Jisung was still caught on the sentence about his dad. He sees him every Friday? That sounded a lot like… those child custody things he saw on TV. "Okay little guy, let's go find your mom first. She must be worried." He held out his hand. "My name is Jisung." He offered a smile.

"Ji-sung?" The kid held onto his hand. Jisung began leading them down the aisles. "I'm Sung-hwan! Sunghwan!" He said with a giggle. Aw man he's so cute.

"Sunghwan huh? That's a nice name." Jisung noted as he looked around for you. He soon found you near the cereals, looking worried. "Aha, we found her!" He took a very long glance at your figure and had a few seconds to fantasize over her long legs before Sunghwan shouted.

"Mama!"

You snapped your head in their direction, relief washing over your face as you knelt down so the kid could run into your arms. "Sunghwan! How many times have I told you to not run off like that!" You chided, but you held onto him tightly. You stood up, your gaze meeting Jisung's. A smile formed on your face. "Jisung, right? I can't thank you enough! I looked away for two seconds and he was gone and—"

"It's alright." Jisung brushed it off, but his heart was going crazy inside his chest. She's smiling at me and she's talking to me! "I found him in the candy aisle. Little man has taste."

You looked at kid, who had an innocent look on his face. You shook your head. "I should've known. But anyways, thank you." You held Jisung's hand to shake it. Holy moly.

"It's okay. Really." He said, a huge smile on his face. "Do you need some help?" He asked, looking at the shopping cart that was full of groceries.

"No, no, it's okay —"

"No, I could help, seriously. You look like you have a lot on your hands already." Jisung said, looking at the kid was trying to pick up a box of cereal from the shopping cart. "I live next door, it really isn't an issue.”

“Honestly, that would be really helpful.”.

"No worries." Jisung said casually.

Which was how he found himself in the apartment next door, setting down the bags of groceries in the kitchen. The house was neat — except there were toys everywhere. Sunghwan was way more than thrilled to show Jisung each and every one of them. He even began narrating the story of why his Mickey Mouse stuffed toy had a bandage (bad encounter with a dog at the park) which made Jisung laugh. He would've loved to spend the whole day there, if he didn't get a call from Changbin.

"Oh, that's work. I gotta go." He said, standing up.

"Thank you again, Jisung." You said, coming out of the kitchen.

"I told you, it's okay." He chuckled. "I like helping people out."

"Jisungie, you have to come back and play with me, okay?" Sunghwan had gotten up from his place and was now holding onto the fabric of his jeans. It was adorable. "I no show my Legos." He pouted. This kid was pulling at his heartstrings.

"I mean, if it's okay with your mom…” He tried off, meeting your eyes. Please say yes.

"Of course you can." You nodded with another one of those bright smiles.

"Yay!" Sunghwan jumped around.

"Say bye, Sung." You told the kid, who waved brightly.

"Bye Sunghwan. And you too Y/n. You can call me if you ever need anything." Jisung told you, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you guys later." He saw himself out and back to his own house. That kid was the ticket to get close to you. You're single (as far as he understood), which means he was doing no wrong. Besides, moms are super sexy (she was an absolute milf). God, he was getting too excited. He grabbed his things and headed to the recording studio.

Safe to say the Jisung was absolutely fucked. He was goner the day he saw you dressed up in a dress that was too short for his mental wellbeing. It was supposed to be a normal day. He started babysitting Sunghwan quite often because you had job interviews packed for the whole week. Since he loved you oh so much, the second he swung open to the door to meet your nervous face, asking him if he could watch Sunghwan for a while.

Truth be told — Jisung didn't exactly hear what you said. He'd known you for a month and he was already down so so bad. He only saw your pretty lips moving, the way you fiddled with your fingers as you tried to explain it to him. But Jisung. Oh god. He just stared at you like a lovesick fool and immediately nodded to save his ass when you finished speaking.

Which was how he found himself in his apartment the next day with Sunghwan and his Legos spread out across the living room. Jisung had to work on this track for Changbin and he also had to watch the kid so he decided to multitask. I mean, how hard could it be to take care of a three year old?

Jisung found out his answer within five minutes when said three year old completely trashed his house with Legos. He couldn't walk two feet without stepping on one of the bricks, making him bite his lip in pain so he wouldn't let out a yelp.

“I'm just going to let myself in!” The second day of baby-sitting, Changbin just appeared in his apartment for no reason. This was probably the worst possible situation is overly loud friend could've walked into. Jisung could practically see his face morph into confusion, his eyes widening and his jaw dropped. “Since when do you have a kid?” He asked loudly. Even a deaf person could hear him at this point. “When did you get laid bro? You've been bitchless —”

“Okay!” Jisung cut him off, covering Sunghwan's ears. “Let's not use colorful language when there is a child present.” Only after Changbin muttered a half-hearted sorry did Jisung uncover the kid's ears. “He's my neighbor's kid —”

“You knocked up your neighbor?—”

“Will you please shut the fuc — shut up please?” Jisung took a deep breath. “I'm baby-sitting. His mom has job interviews and she asked for help and I couldn't say no. The kid's too cute.” He shrugged. Just thinking about you made a small blush creep up on his face, his ears turning red. He's never been down so bad for a person before like this.

“Holy shit —” Changbin completely ignored the don't curse there's a fucking child in front of you warning. “You like his mom.” He mouthed the last two words. Guess he didn't trade all of his brain cells for those muscles. “I should've known you actually had a thing for older woman when you brought up —”

“Enough of my embarrassing past and just get on with why you're here.” Jisung was not going to relive his teenage embarrassments. He'd done some things he's not so proud of and Changbin took every chance to make sure he never forgot them.

His friend left a while later. You texted saying that you would be home in a few. He took Sunghwan back to your house after cleaning up all the toys in his. All was well.

But everything turned topsy-turvy the second he saw you entering the house with that purple dress you wore for your job interview. It stopped just where Jisung's imagination started to wander down the gutter. It hugged your curves perfectly and accentuated your boobs so well that it made him dizzy.

"How'd it go?" He asked you once you sat down on the couch near him, playing Legos with Sunghwan, who was absorbed in his kids show playing on the TV. Jisung was sitting on the floor, so your bare knees were brushing against his shoulder, creating waves of tingles over him.

"It went pretty well." You answered, moving those magenta stained lips of yours. I wonder what it would feel like wrapped around my cock. Jisung had to mentally slap himself. Whatever sexual attraction he had to you was not disappearing in anyway — if anything, it increased every second he spent in your presence. For some reason, everything you did turned him on. The past few weeks ended in cold showers every day to calm himself down. "You're spacing out. Have something on your mind?"

Yeah, you. "Nah, I was just thinking about this song I was working on for my friend." Nice save. "The beat isn't perfect, you know? I've been tweaking it for days, maybe I should just let it be."

He saw you put your hand on your chin to think. "Well, I don't know much about music but maybe you need a fresh perspective? I think I read that somewhere. Something about not working on it for a while...."

"That... makes sense." He nodded slowly. "Maybe I just need some fresh air, you know?"

Sunghwan perked up at that. He jumped onto Jisung, a big, goofy smile on his face. Jisung found himself seeing you in the kid. His smile, his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he was happy — he was almost exactly like you.

"Jisungie! Park!" He exclaimed with a giggle. "Let's go to park!"

"A park? Now? Maybe tomorrow bud, your mom's probably tired."

"Yeah Sung, we'll go tomorrow. I promise." You ruffled the kid's hair.

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise." You repeated with a laugh. Sunghwan went back to playing with his Legos. "By the way Jisung, if you're free on Friday, you wanna go watch a movie?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah I'd be down." He nodded absent-mindedly, watching the boy run around the room with a Lego car.

"Great." You gave him another one of those smiles before walking to her bedroom. Jisung's eyes were on your ass as you disappeared from the corridor. Wait a minute. Sunghwan will be with his dad on Friday, right? Did you just... ask him out?

"What did mommy say?" Sunghwan asked Jisung.

"Mommies are confusing." He said. "But sexy."

"Sixy?" The kid repeated.

"No — no not sixy! Uh, uh —" Jisung panicked. "Hey, I found this Lego set on Amazon and I thought you'd like it." He quickly whipped out his phone to show him to take his mind off of what he said. God forbid you found that he was talking about how you looked in front of your own kid.

That night after going back to his apartment, he laid in bed, his cock in his hands as he stroked himself to the thought of you. Unconsciously moaning your name loudly (maybe a bit too loud) as he imagined you there, jerking him off with your soft hands and that fuckable face with your big eyes, your lips wrapped around him as you took him in whole — yeah, he came pretty hard after that.

Friday took way longer than Jisung wanted. He was antsy the entire morning in the studio, leg bouncing as he sat on the chair while Changbin recorded in the booth. He was so out of it, he didn't hear his friend calling him thrice from outside the little room until Changbin smacked the back of his head which momentarily brought Jisung out of his dreamland.

How could he focus? When he was just a few hours away from spending an evening with you? Only you? He loved Sunghwan, don't get him wrong but going to a movie together and getting dinner afterwards and maybe — just maybe Jisung could spit out the words he'd been holding hostage inside his mouth ever since he first laid eyes on you. Dear Y/n, I've liked you since the second I saw you in your balcony and I was hoping you could rail me —

The second he got home, he took a shower, brushed his teeth again, and spent twenty minutes trying to decide what he should wear. A suit was too over the top and a normal t-shirt and jeans would look like he didn't care. He had to look cool but interested. In the end he opted for a plain black shirt over his loose jeans. He styled his dark hair with a part in the middle and sprayed some cologne on.

Two mental breakdowns later, he was standing in front of the movie theater where you told him you'd meet him. He tried to act all nonchalant but he was slowly losing his mind as he stood there like a loser (it was for ten minutes).

When you finally arrived, he swore his heart stopped beating for a good few seconds as his eyes raked over your little top that dipped low in the front. Did you do it on purpose? Did you know the way his heart started to a marathon every time he looked at you? How the fuck was he supposed to pay attention to a movie when you were dressed like that?

“Sorry I'm late. Dropping Sunghwan off took a little longer than expected.” You adjusted the strap of your handbag which was resting on your shoulder.

“I just got here too. It's okay.” Jisung played it off coolly. It was all worth seeing that smile on your face. He took a moment to mentally note that he also liked the subtle pink lipstick you wore today, but his favorite had to be that magenta color. Just imagining himself stained in your kisses — his face, his chest, his d —

Han Jisung almost publicly humiliated himself for the nth time this month.

The movie was fine. It was some romcom that you liked. His attention was more on you. Your reactions to everything, the way your eyes sparkled as you pointed to the screen, the way your eyes turned into crescents as you laughed at whatever corny ass jokes Jisung made that weren't even that funny.

Dinner… Dinner was far more difficult. He could barely pay any attention to what you were saying. He was more focused on your fingers and your freshly painted magenta nails. Magenta was going to be his fucking end. He could barely keep himself from imagining how good those freshly manicured hands would look wrapped around his cock. Oh god, he was getting hard again. He was only snapped out of his thoughts when you said, “You want to go home?”

“Huh?”

“You look tired. And I'm probably boring you —”

“No, no — never.” Jisung shook his head.

“Then what's wrong Jisung?”

Fuck it, he couldn't take it anymore. “I like you Y/n.” Silence. The silence after that was killing him. He swallowed hard and took a big gulp of water as his face turned redder than red.

“Well I know that. Why do you think I invited you out on a date?”

Every time Jisung believed he couldn't be more surprised, you just had to go and prove him wrong. “What?” He breathed out.

“I know you like me. You're not very secretive about it.” You chuckled, twisted the pasta in your plate onto your fork. “I like you a lot too.” What the actual fuck? “I never thought I'd like someone so fast after… everything. But you proved me wrong.” You shrugged. “But my real question is… do you jerk off to me every night?”

That's it. Jisung knew the thin walls of his apartment would come back to bite him someday in the future. He was betrayed by his own house. He was absolutely mortified you heard him fisting himself to you. He turned impossibly more red. He could barely stutter out a response but he stopped when he saw that teasing smile on your face.

“It's a good thing I feel the same way.”

The cab ride home was torture. Not only did you like him. But you wanted to fuck him too? And it definitely did not help whatsoever that you hand rested on his thigh and slowly inched upward, agonizingly slow towards the obvious tent in his pants. His dick was so hard it hurt in the confines of his pants. He bit down on his lip so hard when you brushed over his bones and then started to palm him through the fabric. Oh fucking hell… You were teasing him. He could see that smirk on your face as he almost whined when you pulled away because the cab stopped.

The second you stepped foot in his apartment, he pushed you against the wall next to the door and smashed his lips against yours. Hungry and needy. He pressed his body against yours, pulling you along to his bedroom (how he got there, he had no clue). His hands were everywhere. Touching and caressing every part of you. Your hair, your waist, your ass — it was heaven. You threaded your fingers through his fingers, lightly tugging at the strands. It was enough to elicit a soft moan from him, muffled by the kiss.

“Tell me Jisung…” You said quietly as you pulled away from him. “What did you imagine about me?” You pushed him onto the bed and as you got on your knees. He lifted his hips as you pulled down his pants along with his boxers, releasing his dick. It was red and stained with precum and so hard.

But you didn't do anything. “Please.” He whimpered. “Do something.” You smiled at him deviously before beginning to stroke him at a slow pace. Too slow. “F-Fuck.” He threw his head back with a groan. You were barely doing anything and he was so far gone. You carefully took him into your mouth, inch by inch. Your mouth was warm, your plush lips wrapped around his cock was making him lose his mind. He wanted to grab your hair and fuck your throat but he couldn't move his body. It was like he was frozen, only able to buck his hips into your mouth for some kind of friction. You finally — finally started bobbing your head up and down, the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat each time. “S-Shit. Fuck. Don't stop.” You went faster after that, fondling with his balls. Your tongue swirling around the tip and your hands on his balls, he could feel that band in his belly about to snap. “Fuck. Fuck I'm gonna —” Before he could reach that sweet release, you pulled away with a pop, innocent eyes staring up at him. He let out a loud groan at that. “W-Why —”

He stopped himself when you stood up and took off your pants and panties and crawled onto his lap, sinking onto him slowly. A soft moan escaped both your mouths when his dick was completely inside you. “Fuck you're big.” You whimpered, trying to adjust to his size. It gave him a bit of an ego boost. You started to bounce on him, letting out the most sinful moans Jisung ever heard in his entire life. “Perfect little dick. Filling me up so well.” You groaned. His dick twitched. Your walls were sucking him in, milking him. It was too much. He was already on edge from his denied orgasm, but the way you were talking to him? Fuck. He wasn't going to last.

“S-So tight.” He whimpered. “F-Fuck. Feels good.”

“Feels good baby?” You asked. He nodded frantically. “Are you gonna cum?” He nodded again. “Hold it for a bit. Only good boys get to cum. Have you been a good boy?”

“Y-Yes, fuck —” He squeezed his eyes shut as your walls clenched around him. “Oh fuck —” Jisung was determined to save the last of his dignity (not like he had much in the first place) and tried to get you off too. He met your thrusts half way, his dick repeatedly brushing against that spongy spot deep inside you.

“Right there.” Your nails dug into his skin but he didn't give two shits. “‘M so close.”

“Let me make you cum too.” He kissed your chest, your breasts and wrapped his lips around your hardened buds, alternating between the two of them. From the fucked out expression on your face and the way he was two seconds from filling you with his seed, he two took of his fingers and found your clit in no time, rubbing harsh circles on the sensitive numb making you cry out as your orgasm washed over you. Jisung came a moment later, his body spasming as he came down from his high.

“Fuck, that was amazing.” You panted, your head laying on his shoulder. Jisung could barely even nod in reply. His dick was still inside you as your juices and his pooled onto his thighs and onto his sheets. It was a mistake to look at where your swollen pussy lips swallowed him whole and he could feel himself getting hard again.

Yeah. He definitely had a thing for mommies.

#han jisung #skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz fluff #han jisung imagines #han x reader #han jisung fluff #han jisung x reader #han jisung hard hours #han jisung smut #han jisung x y/n #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #skz smut #( 🎤 ⸻ my works / han jisung )

1K notes · View notes

l13 · 10 months

Text

♡miguel x reader x peter♡

a part 2 to this drabble

word count: around 3,1k

WARNINGS : NSFW 18+ ONLY, NO use of y/n, f!reader, voyeurism, cheating (peter on mj), HINTS on miguel x peter but nothing actually happens, blowjob (m receiving), masturbation, making out, swearing, spitting?(not really, YOU'LL SEE OK), miguel loves humiliating peter, miguel gets jealous and territorial very easily, lazy writing, also my first time writing anything close to a threesome so please be kind

a/n: SO SORRY this took so fucking long but I hope that y'all will still enjoy reading it<3

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any misspells, errors or grammatically incorrect sentences.

“Fuck, shit, fuck” Peter struggles to pull his pants back up as he turns around swiftly, a hand securely holding on to the front of his sweats as he gulps nervously “Miguel, my man! Fancy seeing you here… look, it’s not what it-”

“Cut the shit, Peter.” Miguel says with crossed arms, “At least have the balls to face the consequences of your… perversions.” he would have looked intimidating if it weren’t for his disheveled look–hair messy, chest rising and falling rapidly (who's he kidding, peter was still scared shitless).

“Wh-huh? I- no, you got it wrong-haha! That’s funny, though! Look- I’m just gonna go-”

“You’re gonna stay where you are.”

“Yup, staying right here.” Peter purses his lips, and he really hopes the outline of his bulge isn't that visible. (it was)

Miguel rolls his eyes, turning around and caressing your cheek as he whispers something against your ear. Peter tries to crane his neck to catch a clearer picture of you despite himself, but with that hunk of a man in front of you, it was a lost call.

You were nervous. Understandably so. Miguel’s words, when you were too busy cumming around his cock merely minutes ago, echoed in your head.

“Yeah, baby?S good, right? So perfect for me baby, fuck. Seems like you got what you wanted after all.” you had furrowed your eyebrows, confused, barely able to keep your eyes open, but when Miguel pointed his thumb at a nearby monitor with the camera surveillance of the place shining bright, with a figure right in the middle, you'd understood what he meant. And you'd liked it.

You cock your head to the side now, as you come to stand next to Miguel, grinning bashfully at Peter, who was looking at you with a gaping mouth. You’d laugh at the way he failed to cover his bulge with his hand, but you were too nervous to do so, so you decided to ignore the act altogether, even if it made your insides flip, “Hi, Peter.”

Jesus Christ, your voice. “Yellow-he-Hi!” Peter’s mouth was so dry, he doesn’t know how he managed to reply. Was after-sex-glow a thing? Because, fuck, you were glowing. There was this flush covering your cheeks and Peter thinks he wants to kiss you all over. Without even realizing it, his feet begin taking him over to you two. But not even a step in, and he’s very rudely interrupted.

“What are you doing?” Miguel’s tone is calm, and yet gives Peter an eerie sensation at the back of his neck that makes him swallow nervously, stopping in his tracks. “Uh- well, I just thought-”

“You thought wrong.” Miguel says blankly.

Peter flushes, seemingly understanding what Miguel planned to do, and takes multiple steps back till his back hits the wall behind him. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. “I- I don’t-”

“What? You didn’t actually think I was going to let you come anywhere near her?” Miguel’s laugh is cruel, and tears well in Peter’s eyes at the underlying humiliation.

“Don’t be mean,” you mutter against Miguel’s ear, your hands circling around his waist as you hug him, your eyes never leaving Peter’s. Yeah, Peter thought, don’t be mean, bitch.

Miguel softens under your touch, draping his arm over your shoulder to bring you impossibly closer, suddenly very aware of his own still very hard cock. He starts pressing kisses along your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw, and you smile as you nuzzle against him. “Oh baby, you’re still hard, aren’t you? How selfish of me,” you didn’t sound sorry at all. But neither Miguel nor Peter cared.

Oh yeah, Peter was still very much here. Cock throbbing and all.

“Stop teasing, bebita,” Miguel hisses, his eyes fluttering as he ruts his hips against you, the smallest of whimpers escaping his lips. Peter would have laughed if Miguel’s voice didn’t make the sound hot. Another fact about Miguel that pissed him off, because when Peter whimpers, it sounds pathetic.

Peter drops his hand over his bulge, groaning under his breath when he squeezes himself over his pants, finally getting some much needed friction.

To Peter’s utter horror, that was the moment that Miguel remembered that he was still in the room, and Peter froze when Miguel’s eyes met his, goosebumps rising all over his body when Miguel’s gaze dropped to his covered cock. Fuck. “Touch yourself for all I care, but know that this is the first and last time I’m letting you in on this. The next time I catch you creeping on her, I’ll kill you.” Well, that was not at all what Peter expected. How horrible, and assertive. Not at all arousing.

Peter cleared his throat, “Kill me. Yeah. Yup. No, yeah, I got it.”

You laugh softly, your own hand dropping to palm Miguel over his suit, “Don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite,”

Miguel tries hard to hide the slight tremble in his voice at the slight contact you gave him, “Is that so?”. He dropped his head, breath fanning across your neck, “Wanna test that theory?”. Both men smile when your breath hitches, Peter staring hard, and finally pulling his cock out. He inhales sharply when he wraps his hand around himself, so desperately wanting to close his eyes and fuck his fist till he comes, but keeps them open so as not to miss the show you so generously were putting in front of him. His eyes follow Miguel’s movements, as he bends to lick across your neck, biting down on your skin a second later, both men letting out sounds of appreciation as you moan.

Peter jerks his cock at a slow pace, eyes hooded, matching the tempo at which the tension builds up. He feels sick doing this, but he can’t help but let the pleasure take his mind off of the guilt that’s ready to eat him up, choosing to focus on how your throat bobs as you swallow, your lips forming a pretty 'o' as you lace your fingers through Miguel’s hair, mewling when he grazes his teeth over your collarbones.

Miguel presses the softest of kisses on the spot he’d previously bitten, and says, “On your knees, baby.” Peter is lightheaded by the pure sex dripping from Miguel’s voice, his cock twitching under his palm, and he squeezes his hand around the base of it, slowly bringing it up to circle around his tip, openly panting like a bitch in heat.

Seeing you drop to your knees was a sight Peter never thought he’d ever see, but one that he was very thankful for. From this angle, you gave Peter the perfect view of your profile. You were grinning, your expression a bit hazy, a bit cockdrunk. The tank top you were wearing looked crinkled, and Peter wondered if Miguel had the material bunched up over your tits while he was fucking you.

Peter stares as you grab at Miguel’s thighs over his suit, squeezing the flesh appreciatively as you look up at him expectedly. God, you were begging to get fucked again. Wait- over his suit? Miguel was still wearing his suit, how the fuck-

As if Peter was voicing his thoughts out loud, the material of Miguel’s suit disappeared slowly, his cock springing up, balls dropping the slightest bit from the secure hold they were being kept up by the tightness of the suit. The start of his thighs and his belly were also exposed, pretty bronze skin a perfect contrast to the deep blue color of his suit.

“What the fuck was that?!” Peter can't help but let out, and Miguel throws him a proud smirk, “Nanotech,” You smile at the small nerdy exchange, too preoccupied to properly join in the conversation. Miguel’s pleasure was above everything else. You wrap your hand around his thick cock, moaning softly as you trace the veins on the side, bending down to kiss and suck on his fat balls. “Makes things easier-ah fuuuck,” Miguel bites on his lower lip roughly, brows furrowing as he bucks into your hand, hand caressing the side of your jaw gently. You looked so fucking beautiful.

Peter drops his other hand to fondle his balls, suddenly jealous, and throws his head back against the wall, groaning as he still keeps his eyes open to watch you.

Five minutes later, Peter was still copying your movements. When you licked at Miguel’s tip, dragging your tongue over the head, and lapping up the precum greedily, Peter made sure he only touched his tip as well, circling and rolling his hand over the head. When you licked the sides of Miguel’s cock, your hand following the same pattern just under your tongue, Peter was jerking his cock in perfect synchronization, mimicking your technique entirely. He could practically taste the pleasure Miguel was getting.

During all this, Peter couldn’t hold back his voice. He moaned and groaned shamelessly, raising his hips to meet his hand sloppily. Fuck, he was so close to coming.

Miguel was truly no better, he was just better at masking it. He constantly gritted his teeth, hissing at your antics, but the occasional moan would slip, and it always made your pussy throb, as if you could feel it vibrating against you.

You take Miguel’s cock in your mouth with no warning, the tip touching your throat as you swallow around him, nose touching the base of his cock, your eyes tearing up quickly. Both men sputter at the sudden action. Miguel moans loudly, his belly flexing as he bends over you, fingers threading between your hair.

Peter almost comes right then and there, the movement of his hand on his cock so fast and rough, that it was creating a lewd wet sound “S-shit, you look so good, sweet thingmff fuuck. Yeah-like that, Oh my God,”

Both yours and Miguel’s heads snap up, surprised by Peter’s outburst. Miguel raises an eyebrow, his jaw locking. Was this asshole really imagining he was in his place? Well, he couldn’t exactly blame him, but it still pissed him off. When he turned his head to look at you, though, you were looking at Peter curiously and- were you biting your lip?

“Something you wanna say to him, baby?” Miguel’s voice comes out dry, and you can instantly tell he’s mad. You send him a knowing smile, shaking your head softly, “Not really. I just think he sounds sweet.”

“Yeah?” Peter whimpers in reply immediately. I sound sweet, I sound sweet, I sound sweet.

You glance at Peter again, rubbing your thighs together, and Miguel scowls at the movement and tugs at your hair hard, “Keep talking, Peter. Somehow, she seems to be liking your whining.”

“S so good, you’re so good, fuck I wanna feel your mouth on me so bad,” Peter babbles mindlessly and you can't help but watch as he thrusts into his hand needily.

Miguel notices you staring and grinds his teeth together, “What are you looking at him for, huh? Looking at his cock when mine is right in front of you. Am I not enough for you, bebita?” Your head whips around to look at the man in front of you, your eyes widening a fraction as you shake your head softly.

You make sure to put on a show as you run your lips all over Miguel’s cock, spreading his pre-cum all over your mouth and chin as you talk, “You’re everything. Your cock ‘s so pretty, the prettiest ever. Love it s’much..”. Miguel feels satisfaction spread in his veins, making him warm all over. He slaps his cock over your cheek for good measure as he stands taller and huffs out a condescending laugh, glancing at Peter with a dumb smirk on his face. That’ll teach him.

But what Miguel sees is not at all what he expected.

Peter’s eyes roll back, the hand on his cock tightening as he moans. Fuck, he wants nothing more than to be at Miguel’s place right now that it’s driving him insane. “Such a good fucking girl, baby, shit.”

Miguel snarls at his reaction before snapping his head back to you, “Open your mouth,”

You do as you’re told, tongue out as you stare up at him with doe eyes, but he just clicks his tongue, “Wider.” Miguel shoves his hand in your mouth, his thumb on your tongue as the rest of his fingers cradle your jaw. He pumps his cock with his other hand, biting his lip, and mutters “Yeah, just like that.. You gonna be good for me?” You nod, and Miguel's thumb gets coated in your saliva from the movement.

Miguel grins and takes his thumb out, slowly turning his head to lock eyes with Peter. Then, he brings his hand up to his face and closes his mouth around his thumb, hollowing his cheeks prettily as he sucks your spit off his finger, his gaze dropping to Peter's cock.

Peter's jaw slacks, and his hips stutter at the sight in front of him. Miguel's low chuckle falls on deaf ears, Peter being too busy watching your hands squeeze Miguel's ass impatiently, trying to coax him back in your mouth, mewling when he relents and slips his cock inside. Miguel can't help but raise his hips as you bob your head up and down his length.

Peter spits on his cock suddenly, the filthy sound making you glance at him again, and Miguel's jaw ticks “It’s okay, bebita, you can look at him. Look, but know that he could never fuck you like I did. Or did you forget how you creamed around my cock, hm? I bet that pussy’s still wet for me,”

Peter moans approvingly, “Mm I bet it is..”

Miguel inhales sharply, his eyes falling shut, “Peter.”

“Yeahuh? Fuck. Yeah?”

“Get your ass over here.” Peter nearly falls on his face as he stumbles forward, raising his sweatpants carelessly as he walks over. His hands tremble when he clasps them together in front of him lamely, standing awkwardly near you both.

“Closer, pendejo.” Peter gawks at Miguel's request, shakes his head, and reluctantly takes two steps closer. He made sure to throw a glance towards Miguel to ensure that he wasn’t getting punched anytime soon.

“Hold her hair back.”

Peter must have died and went to heaven. There was no fucking way this was happening-

“Did you hear what I fucking said-"

Peter jumps when Miguel raises his voice and quickly springs into action. His breath hitches, but he can't help himself- not when he's carefully pulling your hair back, his fingers brushing your cheeks, avoiding touching Miguel's hands as he's still holding your head, practically using your mouth as a fleshlight.

Peter tries not to react when you gargle around Miguel's cock, the popping sound your mouth makes when you pull back to get some air pulling a hiss out of him. You cough messily, and as you do, you turn to look at Peter, in all your tears-running-down-your-cheeks glory. And then you grin at him, and Peter's legs buckle. And despite everything, despite the drool running down your chin, and Miguel's hard cock still in his field of view- Peter says, “Rough day, huh,"

You snort out a laugh, and Miguel's eyes almost roll to the back of his head because- how the fuck is that funny?- and so, he growls, tapping your lips twice with his cock before shoving it back inside your mouth, his head dropping as he moans lowly.

“Oh, fuck.” Miguel’s head was fuzzy, hypnotized by the way you bobbed your head up and down his cock, your hands fondling his balls with juust the right amount of pressure that made his thighs shake. He touches your jaw with his pointer finger, thumb drawing circles over your cheek in awe. “Baby, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Peter whimpers, “fuck…” and Miguel laughs breathlessly, tongue running over his fangs, “Are you gonna fuck your fist again when you think back to this? Back when she had her pretty lips wrapped around my cock and you watched her take it.. Jesus Christ, you look pathetic. I bet if she told you to hump the fucking floor, you would.”

Peter moans and nods absentmindedly, pulling his cock out hurriedly and starting to jerk his cock sloppily, gaze glued on your fluttering eyes, mascara running down your cheeks prettily. His eyes flicker from your face to your cleavage and he whines. Your tits just look so soft, he can't help himself.

Miguel, ever the perceptive man, notices this, “Be a good girl and pull your shirt up for Peter, baby.” You moan around his cock at the way his voice trembles, and raise your shirt over your boobs, suddenly very aware of your own underwear sticking to your pussy mesilly. Fuck, you were drenched.

“Oh my God,” Peter pants, eyes losing focus, hand on your hair loosening as he moves his hips back and forth, fucking into his hand relentlessly. “I'm gonna cum, gonna cum-”

“Cum on her tits.”

Peter sobs, stepping closer to jerk his cock just over your tits and he jumps when he feels you squeeze his thigh, nails digging into the skin. He feels his balls tighten, and he grasps your shoulder as his knees buckle suddenly. “I'm cumming- Oh fuck I'm-” his cock twitches as he cums, painting your pretty tits white, the jerks of his hand never stopping as he rides out his orgasm.

For a moment, it feels as though only Peter's moans and whimpers can be heard, and fuck, he hopes there's no one outside because he's so fucking loud, and it's so humiliating that he can feel tears running down his cheeks. He feels lightheaded and utterly spent as he pumps his cock, squeezing his hand tight around himself as he watches the last of his cum drip down his length and onto your shirt, turning it a darker shade.

“Oh- fuck. Oh my fucking God.” Peter bites back a whimper and shudders, when you bring your hands to your tits, squeezing them roughly and getting his cum aaall over them.

The ringing in Peter's ears fades away, and he snaps his eyes to Miguel when he hears the state he's in.

Miguel grunts each time he snaps his cock back in your mouth, reveling in your gurgles, feeling the vibration of your moans go straight to his balls, and he. can't. stop. Not when he'd just seen Peter cum all over your tits like that. Not when he'd liked watching him do it.

“Take it. Fuck- take my fuckin' cum baby-shit,” Miguel whimpers and snarls as he snaps his hips one final time, holding your head in place, his thighs shaking as he cums down your throat. He throws his head back when he feels you swallow around his length, muttering incoherently to himself in Spanish as he whimpers and groans.

Miguel stumbles back slightly, cock slipping from your mouth at last, and both men can't help but stare hungrily, their cocks hardening once more as you gather the excess cum that's dripping down your chin in your hands, licking it out of your palms a second later. All three of you are panting hard, letting your actions linger in the air for a moment.

But then you look up at them, a sinful glint in your eyes, and Miguel turns to Peter and says,

“What are you waiting for? Lick her tits clean.”

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — miguel #•ूᡣ𐭩 — peter b #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x reader #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x reader smut

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dreamescapeswriting · 15 days

Text

Move At Your Own Pace ~ BC [MATURE WARNING]

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.8K

⤜GENRE: SMUT MINORS DNI!!! Virgin!Chan, hand job, praising Chan, soft, established relationship

⤜PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜MASTERLIST

As you stepped through the door of your cosy apartment, the scent of dinner greeted you, mingling with the warmth of home making you relax as you kicked off your shoes, making your way toward your bedroom where you knew your boyfriend would be waiting for you. Chan was always waiting for you there after you'd had a long day a work, waiting and ready with cuddles to make sure your day would end on a good note.

The two of you had been together for almost a year now and he'd moved in a few months ago, since he spent so much time at your place it only seemed logical for him to move in permanently with you and it was something you loved.

Waking up in his arms every morning was a gift, something you weren't going to take for granted.

"Channie?" You called as you walked into the bedroom, smiling when you found him lounging on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

"Hi baby," You cooed, shedding your coat and going to find some PJs to slip into, Chan's eyes looked up and he smiled,

"You're back early, how was your day?" He asked with a grin, sitting up and against the headboard so that you had room to get in with him when you were dressed.

"Long and exhausting, but seeing your face makes it all better," You giggled, slipping into an oversized shirt and climbing into the spot beside him, laying your head on his shoulder and letting out a happy sigh.

This was perfect for you, coming home to the love of your life and getting to spend the night unwinding together, forgetting all of the bad shit of your day and just focusing on the good.

"I missed you today," He told you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him as you felt everything that had stressed you out melt away in his embrace.

"I missed you too, trust me I would have rather spent it with you than my boss," You mumble a little, kissing Chan's chest as he blushes deeply looking at you. The small action had sent blood flowing to his cock and he let out a tiny whimper, it was just a small kiss and yet it had him acting like a horny teenager as he bit down on his tongue a little.

Chan was a virgin and when you'd first started dating he'd told you he wanted to take it slow and you'd respected it, you'd never pushed him too far and always stopped whenever he got too shy to continue on.

The two of you had been together for a year now and still hadn't done anything sexual with one another, besides the occasional heavy make-out session, but tonight Chan was feeling a little indifferent. He wanted to push himself a little to explore what he could with you.

"Was he rude to you again?" He asked as he ran his hands up and down your arm, his attention half on what you were saying and half on his boner that was so hard it was starting to hurt a little.

"Very, I swear I could-" You were cut off as Chan shifted uncomfortably and your eyes ran down his sweats to find him hard,

"I'm sorry, Channie. Do you need me to go?"

"N-No...No, please. Don't." He tightened his grip around you, your eyes searching signs for any sign that he wasn't okay with this. The last thing you wanted to do was push him into something he didn't want to do, but you relaxed in his arms a little.

"Yn..." Chan breathed out, you turned to face him again and your eyes locked with an unspoken understanding. Without a word, your lips met in a tender kiss, making Chan whimper against your lips a little as it itched something inside of him that had been bothering him all day.

Your kiss grew more passionate, your hands roaming over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips and you ran your hand over his abs, making him blush deeper.

He wanted you badly but he wasn't sure if he was ready for everything yet, he just knew he needed to feel you on him, somehow. His hands trace the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine as you giggle a little against his lips. Your breaths mingle, coming out in soft gasps as the intensity of your desire grows, you arch into him, craving the closeness only his body could provide and with a gentle tug, Chan pulls you closer.

As you continued to make out you slowly pulled away, running your hands over his bright red face as he looked at you nervously.

"Channie..." You breathe out, not wanting to push him too far,

"I-I'm ready...But not- Not all the way," He admitted, his voice stammering a little, he suddenly felt selfish for leading you on and his mind drifted into overthinking everything. What if you didn't want to help him? What if you told him you were sick of waiting around?

"What if I give you a handjob?" Your voice came out, breaking him away from the deepest parts of his brain, his eyes finding yours again as you smiled warmly at him.

"But you won't get to cum..."

"Baby, tonight is all about you." You promise him, kissing his cheek softly as he looks at you, biting down on his bottom lip.

"But-"

"I don't care about me, I want you to get off, if you're ready." You assured him as he nodded at you, suddenly feeling shy at the thought of this happening.

Chan had, of course, gotten himself off in the past, it wasn't as though he completely shut himself off from all things pleasure. It was just anything with a partner he seemed to shy away from.

"If you're not-"

"I am! I am...ready," He rushed out, his dick was hurting from how hard he was and he wanted nothing more than to relieve himself or for you to do it for him.

You slowly move to sit behind him and you giggle, kissing his neck softly as you make him relax,

"You're so pretty, Channie," You whimper, unable to keep yourself from him any longer,

"I just want to touch you," You whine a little running your hands over his cock through his pants as he lets out a soft moan, his eyes fluttering shut. He'd touched himself plenty but nothing compared to having the love of his life touch him.

"I...I'm yours, do whatever you want," He moans out, his head already feeling light from the pleasure. You smirk slowly pulling down his sweats and freeing him from them, his dick springing against his stomach as he hisses a little.

"No boxers? Naughty," You tease softly, your fingers gently travelling up his dick as you barely touch him, teasing him a little as he lets out a moan of your name, begging for you to touch him more.

"P-Please," He hisses out needily as you try to hide the grin that crossed your face,

"Such a good boy using your manners," You praise, kissing his neck as precum drips from the tip of his cock, a strangled groan leaving your boyfriend's throat as he rolls his head back onto your shoulder,

"You're already so wet for me baby, all this precum." Your voice was low and seductive as you gently ran your thumb over the head of his dick rubbing the precum into his skin as bucked his hips toward you.

"Sensitive?" You asked, unable to hide the grin any longer when he nodded and blushed deeply, your hand slowly starting to pump his dick as you watched his face, his eyes screwing shut as breaths and curse words fell from his lips.

"You're so pretty like this for me, Chan," You whispered, leaving sloppy kisses and bites up and down his neck as he moaned your name out loudly, earning a small squeeze of his dick as you began to pump his length.

"Watch baby, watch what you're letting me do to you," You urge him. When he looks down, it feels like the air was punched out of his lungs, he looked so big in your hand and it was almost too much for him as he whimpered, bucking into your hand a little.

His head rolls back against your shoulder, his eyes rolling back as you give him slow and soft strokes, precum still oozing out of the head and dripping down his length, lubricating himself.

"F-Fuck that's so good," He moans loudly, unable to hold anything back as you run your thumb over the tip of his cock again, curse words slipping from his mouth.

"So good,...f-fuck that's so good," He whined, his eyes finding yours as he looked at you, his eyes begging for release as you picked up the pace of your hand. His heart started to beat so fast he could hear it in his eyes, whimpering your name and screwing his eyes shut. He didn't want to cum yet but it was getting too hard to fight back his climax with every stroke of your hand.

His thighs twitched with every movement, his moans getting shameless and louder with every passing second as he rolled his hips to meet your hand,

"You wanna cum for me?" You whispered, biting down on his ear as he nodded his head vigorously at you, his eyes filled with desperation as you smirked a little wanting nothing more than to make him cum after so long.

"Cum for me then baby, be a good boy." You whispered in his ear, biting on his neck as his eyes rolled back. His back arched a little as he came, his mind blank as his cum spurted out of him, catching your hand and onto his stomach as he mumbled apologies.

"S-Sorry...S-Sory, I didn't...didn't mean to make a mess," He panted as you giggled, looking him directly in his eyes and licking the cum off your hand, you didn't care that he'd made a mess. It had been one of the best things you'd ever seen,

"You're so hot," He moans out, falling back onto the bed as you slowly get up and head toward the bathroom for a warm wet cloth to help clean him up with.

"Was that okay?" You questioned as the two of you lay there, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his rapid heart rate, smirking a little knowing you had been the one to do that to him.

"M-More than okay, I'm just sorry I didn't-"

"Don't. I told you, we move at your pace and I loved getting you off," You assured him, kissing his chest softly, a small whimper leaving his throat as he bit down on his lip.

"I want to try and make you cum next time." He tells you, his shyness completely devoid of his voice as you nod at him.

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notafunkiller · 4 months

Text

not made of glass

Summary: After shopping for your Christmas tree and running into an old acquaintance, Bucky's mood completely changes.

Pairing: director!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 24, Bucky is 36), degrading, praising, chokíng, teasing, dirty talk, language, pet names, come eating, jealousy, a little metal arm kínk, daddy kínk, no condom (but they are both clean and r is on birth control), implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.3K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: An extra thank you @lavenderhaze967 for her help and support!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

He’s sulking. You don’t know what happened since you came from the tree shopping, but he’s been like this for hours.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can try to take over,” you offer for the fourth time from the living room.

You don’t know how to cook. And even if you tried, you wouldn’t be as good as him, but you don’t want him to do it if he doesn’t feel alright.

“No, no, it’s fine.”

You sigh when you hear his voice. He sounds so off... but he refuses to tell you what’s happening, and you can’t push him more. Maybe it’s work.

“Bucky, you know you don’t have to do anything, right? We can order something. If you don’t feel like it, I can even...” But you pause, knowing better than to continue the sentence. Both: give you some space or leave you alone for a bit would be wrong. “Did something happen? With the project I mean.”

You drop the ornament on the couch and make your way to the kitchen.

Without waiting for him to answer, you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pulling his back even tighter against your chest.

The Christmas tree and the food can wait. And you definitely don’t care about his covered in flour apron. You just want him to know you’re there.

You feel him tense for a few seconds, but you don’t move, instead you place your palms on his chest and hug him harder. That’s when he melts, his shoulders dropping a little. You smile before leaving a small kiss below the back of his neck.

“Who made you mad? Who do I kick?”

“I’m not... I told you I’m not mad,” he murmurs, but you don’t buy it.

“Ever since we bought the tree, you’ve been acting strange. You’re so tense, bubba.”

Bucky sighs, shaking his head at the same time as he decides to cover your hands with his. They’re warm and a little sweaty.

“I am just nervous about the food. I don’t want to screw it up.”

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me, don’t lie to me when I clearly want to solve this.”

You take a step back, upset, dropping your hands. This is not going to be a good conversation if he isn’t going to really talk. You don’t even know what you did wrong.

“Hey, hey! You didn’t do anything wrong. I am so sorry, but it’s really-”

“If you say it’s nothing one more time!” You snap, unable to keep your voice down. You don’t want to fight with him, you never do. It’s the worst feeling in the world, but he refuses to share. He is so stubborn!

“I am sorry.”

“Just tell me what happened. What made your mood change like that?”

“It’s silly,” he says, wiping his hands on his apron. “Nothing happened. Just... you know, it happens.”

Of course mood changes can just happen, but, in his case, unless it’s something that is really bothering him, it doesn’t last for so long. And he always talked to you about it, so it must be something you did.

“Did I do something Bucky? Did you,” you bite your lip when you feel yourself starting to get teary. You’re not going to be a cry baby. “Feel embarrassed by me?”

He jumps, bringing his hands to cup your face gently. You don’t move, enjoying his touch so much. “Bubba, no! No, no, no. I told you, you’re perfect. Fuck,” he curses, looking away. “I should be the one asking you that... if you feel embarrassed to be seen with me”

“What?”

“When we met with your... friend. I know we talked about our age difference before and all of that, but-”

You interrupt him before he can finish that sentence, still shocked. He was sulking for hours because he thought you’re unhappy to be seen with him all of a sudden? “When have I ever been embarrassed to be seen with you, bubba? I thought I made my feelings quite clear from the beginning. Did I say something today to make you feel this way?”

You’re trying to remember anything that could have triggered this type of thought, any gesture... anything, but you genuinely can’t find anything.

“This is the thing... you didn’t. You were just yourself: sweet, funny, and amazing. You reunited with your friend and all I could think was how much I want to...” He closes his eyes as if he’s fighting something inside his mind.

“Wanted to do what?” You push him to continue, happy he is finally opening up. You hate when you don’t know what he’s thinking about because you can’t reassure him like this.

“I’m a jerk, baby. I wanted to wipe off the smile on his face and take you to the car to fuck you. It’s immature, I know.” He brings his hands to his hair and he pulls. And pulls. “But I’ve never had this urge before. It was eating me alive.”

“You were jealous of Mickey?”

“I was, yeah,” he admits immediately. “The way he looked at you, the familiarity, the jokes... you giggled at his comments, and I thought I am gonna make a scene right there and then fuck you until you’re so full with my come you start dripping.”

That surprises you even more. You didn’t expect him to be jealous, especially not on this level since he’s always calm and collected, and you’re the one going crazy. And him wanting to fuck you with this urgency? It makes it even more interesting.

“He smiled quite a lot, didn’t he?” You bring your hand casually to his chest again. “Well, we know each other after all. He was one of my professors’ assistant, remember?”

Oh, how can he forget?

“Yeah, I remember very well, baby, trust me.”

“Should I tell you a little secret?” You move your fingers up until they reach his bottom lip. You want to distract him, to push him to get what he wants, ao you can see more of this side of him. “I kinda had a crush on him. He was like the hottest guy in my classes, you know?”

She immediately notices a flicker of darkness in his eyes, as if she’s just touched a nerve.

“You had a crush on him, huh?” He asks through his teeth, but not aggressively at all, more like challenging. He probably knows what you’re trying to do, but he still responds.

“Yep.” You grin playfully. “A huge one. My first real crush to be honest.”

“You’re enjoying this.” Bucky shakes his head, smiling.

“I don’t enjoy you thinking I’d be embarrassed to be seen with you.”

Surprisingly, he grabs your waist, pulling you toward him. You whimper when your breasts crush against his chest but stay still.

“You know exactly what I meant, don’t play.”

“And I see your mood changed all of a sudden.”

“Are you horny because I got jealous? Is that it, baby? You want me to-”

You groan, interrupting him, as you move your hips a little to meet his.

“I am horny because you were so close to going feral on me.”

Bucky smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve seen him smile before. It’s playful in a different way, as if he’s hiding something, and the fact you’re in the dark brings him endless satisfaction. Then he grabs your cheeks with his left hand, the coldness making you jump a little.

“You wanted me to go feral on you, huh?”

You don’t let him enjoy the moment for too long as you cover his hand just to move it lower until it rests on your neck, nothing you’ve never done before. But he surprises you again by actually squeezing the sides teasingly without taking his eyes off you.

You can’t help but whimper. You’ve wanted him to choke you for so long, but you didn’t want to push. It looks like he did too.

“Want you to go feral on me now too.”

You expect him to tease a bit longer, maybe even make you beg for it, but he doesn’t. He quickly rips your shirt in half, buttons flying eveywhere in the room, but he doesn’t give a fuck.

At least you aren’t wearing a bra, otherwise it would be ripped, too.

He’s not gentle when he turns you around by your hair, and you groan, the pain bringing pleasure, when you feel his fingers close to your roots. Your knees are suddenly weak too, but his grip on your waist as he pushes down your pants and panties at the same time keeps you on your feet.

He’s never been so fierce with you... always so careful. But you wanted this. You craved this.

“You’re gonna get it, don’t worry.” He pulls your hair again, and you moan. “Gonna make you my comeslut in a sec. Walk.”

You don’t say anything as you move to the living room quickly, with his hand still in your hair. You step out of pants and panties right before you reach the threshold. You don’t him to slow down, you want him to fuck you the way he craved it when you ran into Mickey.

“Hands and knees.”

You turn your head as much as his grip allows it and smile. “Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll consider it since you held back today. Why should I-”

But he doesn’t let you even finish your sentence as he is pulling your hair to guide you down. He’s not even doing it hard, but it makes you so wet. You love this side so fucking much.

“I’d advise you to do what you’re told.”

Even his tone is more demanding and deeper. You close your eyes and, despite your urge to be a brat again, you get on hands and knees as he told you. You want his cock more than anything.

“Like this?” You tilt your head enough so he can see your smirk, knowing the patronizing tone will drive him crazier.

“Need to fuck the attitude out of you, don’t I?” He smiles back, lowering his sweatpants. You turn your head, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you blush.

“You can try, but we both know that’s-”

He’s not just at your entrance, he’s pushing inside you.

You gasp, surprised he did this without warning you.

“You okay?”

You nod, hoping he can see you, when he grabs your ass. He pushed only a bit, waiting for your approval.

“Bubba?” He whispers, and you can sense the worry in his voice. But you’re really wet and horny, and you want to be fucked.

“F-fine. I’m fine, keep going. Please.”

“Who?”

“James?” You try, unsure, feeling him getting inside you deeper and deeper.

“Sweetheart, that’s not what you usually like to call me, is it? Don’t lie to yourself.”

“W-what?” The way he’s filling you makes it impossible for you to focus. You can barely breathe properly.

“Aren’t you a comeslut for daddy? Why do you prolong your suffering?”

“I’m not...” you whimper, playing around. “I’m not a comeslut.”

“You’re right, you’re not. Yet.”

He starts thrusting pretty slowly, probably wanting to make sure you’re getting used to it, but his hand in your hair shows you that things aren’t going to be so tame for long.

“God, look how fucking wet you are, doll. Taking me so well, hungry for my cock.”

You whimper, thrusting your ass back because, as he speaks, he slips out of you completely, letting you empty.

“Daddy, please.”

You don’t care if your neediness is evident in your voice, Bucky already knows you’re desperate for him. And after he’s been sulking and refusing to tell you why, he owes you this.

“What?”

“Come on, fuck me. Gimmie... gimmie your cock. Pound me. Didn’t you say you were gonna go feral?”

He doesn’t need another invitation, and you realize immediately he is not going to hold back as he grabs your hips with more force than before and slams inside you. His balls hit your clit over and over again, and you moan even louder, tilting your head so he can get the hint you want him to pull your hair. But he ignores it.

He continues to fuck you without stopping, making sure to almost pull out completely a couple of times just to push back in hard, driving you crazy.

“A crush, huh? Your first real crush.” He sneaks his metal arm under your body and squeezes one of your breasts.

Jesus!

“B-Bucky!”

“Try again or I stop right fucking now. I’ll use your mouth, and you won’t get to come.”

You gasp and almost tell him he wouldn’t dare, but wouldn’t he?

“D-daddy, please. I love you.”

Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s smiling.

“Do you?”

“So much, please don’t stop.”

He’s slowing down a little so you can speak, matching his thrusts with the way he is playing with your breasts.

“You’re so adorable when you’re cockdrunk. But should I-”

“Please, I had a crush on you too.”

When he frees your breast, you want to scream. You didn’t lie, and he knew it. You had a huge crush on him as you were filming, but it was innocent and cute. The dirty thoughts started after, so why is he so annoying?

He doesn’t drop his hand, though. He moves it higher, wrapping it around your neck.

“That’s it?” He playfully squeezes the sides of your neck, and your eyes roll back in pleasure. He knows exactly what buttons to push, and the more you fuck, the better it gets. “Just a crush?”

“I love you, daddy. And I need it faster, please.”

He doesn’t just fuck you faster as you want, he also somehow fucks you deeper, his fingers tightening instinctively on your hips. You’re a moaning mess at this point, unable to say anything else but his name, and even that comes out stuttered.

You can barely keep your head straight when he starts really choking you. You expect to feel like you’re suffocating, some panic or discomfort, but his cold grip on your neck only makes it hard for you to focus on anything... impossible to think, and a little dizzy.

“You’re a fucking tease, aren’t you?”

Tears. You feel many tears leaving hot trails on your cheek. You can’t even open your eyes.

“You just wanted to be pounded so hard that you taunted daddy with his jealousy. Bad girl.”

You’re so, so close, you can barely even hear him. Your ears are ringing and you moan loudly. You have no idea how he even can speak.

“Fuck,” he whimpers when you unconsciously move your hips back to meet his thrusts, desperate for more before he slaps your ass twice. The moan you let out is so high pitched even you are surprised. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You’re a whore for a bit of pain.”

You are. You love it with him because you trust him. You know he’d never go too far even when he’s wild and crazy like this. And that only turns you on more and more. You’re so close that you can almost taste it.

“But you’re my little baby, aren’t you? I’m the one y-you need. Fuck!”

You’re screaming before he can even finish speaking as the strongest orgasm you’ve ever experienced takes over your body. It’s a blinding pleasure you can feel everywhere: from your pussy to your head and even fingers. And the way he keeps thrusting in and out of you at the same speed prolongs it.

“D-daddy, please,” you groan when the pleasure turns into sensitivity. You want him to feel at least half as good as you do. You try to open your eyes as you tilt your head back so he can see you, but the tears make your sight blurry. “Please... c-come inside me. Give me your come, fill me up, I neeeed it.”

And while he moans your name, he does, making you realize he’s been really holding back his release all this time. He drops his hand from your neck just to grab a handful of your tit and squeeze as he comes. And comes. And comes.

“Jesus, d-doll. Take my come. Got so much for you. So, so much.”

You love how feral he is, how it feels to be used like this. You want to be his toy.

“Thank you, daddy. Thank you for your come.”

You feel the pressure and weight of his chest pressing against your back, but he doesn’t let go of your breast, fondling it gently.

“Fuck, this was...” He doesn’t even finish his sentence, trying to catch his breath. You are both sweaty and warm, but you don’t care. You love being so close to him.

“This was so fucking good, bubba. Why did you hold back all this time?”

He doesn’t answer straight away, instead he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to the middle of your back, rising at the same time.

“Didn’t want to hurt you, bubba.”

“Told you I am not made of glass!” You try to stand up, too, but your knees are so wobbly that Bucky has to help you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist. You feel his come start to drip out little by little and you moan, scooping some of the come with two fingers and then bringing it to your lips.

You whimper the moment you get a taste, looking at Bucky to show him exactly how you feel about it. Quickly, you bring your index finger that is still covered in come to his lips, wanting to share with him.

Without hesitation, he opens his mouth, letting you smear some come on his tongue before he cleans it all by lapping at your finger.

You smile. “Promise you won’t hold back, and that you’ll talk to me the next time you feel like this. I could never be embarrassed by you or to be seen with you, bubba. You’re my baby, okay?”

Bucky smiles too, letting your finger out of his mouth with a pop. “I’m sorry, you’re right. And you’re my baby, too.”

“I know, but I was scared I did something really wrong and I didn’t...”

You don’t know how to continue, but you don’t have to as he pulls you into a tight hug, your head resting against his chest.

“I am sorry. I let the jealousy blind me because I felt insecure. I sometimes wonder if I’m enough for you.”

“Enough?” You sigh, kissing him all over his chest T-shirt. “You are everything, and you make me so happy. Please, don’t ever doubt that!”

“I’ll try, bubba, and thank you.” You feel his lips on top of your head, so you close your eyes, enjoying this moment. You’re gonna show him how much he means to you even more. “Do you feel sore?”

“A little,” you snort. “But it was soooo worth it. We have to do that again. Gosh, and the way you choked me, Mr. Barnes!”

He starts laughing at your tone, which makes you laugh too. This is your Bucky. You love him so much that you wish you could take away all of his fears and second thoughts. He is yours, and you are his.

“Noted, baby. You’re not made of glass.”

“Nope.” You break the hug just to take a step back and look around. You made a mess, and you haven’t even finished with the Christmas tree.

It’s gonna be a long evening.

“Gonna run you a bath, then we can continue with,” he waves around. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

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