#this is like 3.5k idk man

[mrsbarnesblog]

I trust you

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: when Bucky comes back from a mission with a knife wound there is only one person who can convince him to get help.

Words count: 3.5k

Warnings: angst and fluff, injury, wounds, low self-esteem, bucky has trust issues and needs a hug, touch starved bucky,

Author’s note: ugh just let me hold my baby and kiss his cute sad face omggg... anyways, idk why I rarely write angsty things, I really wanna do something new, so if you have any ideas let me know! 💘

It was almost eight o'clock in the evening when FRIDAY reported that the guys' quinjet should arrive at the compound within an hour.

Steve, Sam, and Bucky went on another mission to destroy HYDRA almost two weeks ago. As usual, none of you could get any news from them because they couldn't risk giving away their whereabouts.

It was foolish to assume that you weren't worried about them. Especially for one person. Bucky.

You and the former Winter Soldier met about six months ago when Steve and Sam first brought him to the tower. Steve was really worried about his old best friend, so before bringing Bucky to the tower, he talked with the team and asked all of you to give Bucky space.

Of course, you knew who he was from the day Steve found out that Bucky was alive. You have seen hundreds of reports and photographs on TV and on the Internet about The Winter Soldier, a ruthless killer who was always invisible but too damn good at his missions. He is the man who was turned into a weapon against his will.

When Steve introduced him, the whole team just nodded and shared awkward smiles, and Bucky himself kept his eyes on the ground. The whole situation was too intense, and no one, not even the funny and sarcastic Tony Stark, knew what to do or say. You actually thought that it might be rude to just stand there and look at him, as if he was a wild animal. Looking at this shy and uncomfortable-looking man before you, you knew that the smallest thing you could get him was to show that he was welcomed in this tower and that everyone was on his side. So, pushing away your own shyness and nerves, you stepped forward, holding out your right hand.

"Hi, my name is Y/N.  It's nice to meet you. I hope you’ll feel comfortable around here." You offered your warmest and most sincere smile, trying not to show nervousness.

Bucky slowly raised his head, genuinely surprised that anyone else had actually spoken to him besides Steve. It's nice to meet you. When had he heard those words for the last time?

Your eyes met, and you could have sworn all the air was out of your lungs. His eyes were even more beautiful than in those rare, high-quality photographs. He looked truly beautiful, with long hair and blue eyes, even though you could see that he was tired—physically and even more emotionally. You stood for what seemed like an eternity, looking at each other's faces, until Bucky got a little nudge from Steve on the arm.

Only then did his gaze move to your still outstretched arm. He hesitated a bit, unsure if he wanted to be touched or feel someone’s warm skin. It’s been too long since another person wanted to touch him without causing any harm. Even Steve gave him minimal physical contact. Always through the gloves or thick jacket, and Bucky didn’t know the true reason for this—whether it was because Steve cared about his feelings or he just didn't want to do that. But then Bucky looked at you again, and he already knew that you would be his death.

You were so beautiful. Probably the most attractive person he has ever seen. It was still morning, and he assumed that you planned to have a day for yourself because you had no makeup, your hair was a little bit messy, and you looked really comfy in a big sweater and a pair of black leggings. Oh, and he definitely noticed your cute, fluffy pink socks. Your eyes were full of friendliness and comfort, so it made him want to trust you. Your lips curled into a warm smile, and he had no doubt that you wanted to make him feel comfortable on the team.

Bucky lifted the corners of his lips slightly, meeting your eyes again, and held out his right hand to you, still feeling awkward. Especially when the whole team around you watches your interaction too closely.

 "Hi."

When the Quinjet landed on the territory, you couldn't calm your pounding heart. Natasha, who was standing a couple of steps away from you, of course, noticed your condition but didn’t say anything and just sent you a reassuring smile. She knew you'd calm down when Bucky was by your side.

Sam got out first. He looked tired, had a couple of scratches and bruises, but was generally fine.

"Sam!  God, I'm glad you're okay." You said, running closer to him. "How is Bucky? And Steve? Are they okay?" Your worried eyes ran across his face, trying to find answers, but he only pursed his lips and lowered his eyes to the ground.

"Steve’s fine, and Bucky, um... I think you should see it yourself. And I think you need to have a serious talk with this idiot because he doesn't listen to us." Your brows furrowed, but before you could ask anything else, footsteps and stifled moans were heard behind Sam.

It felt like your heart stopped as soon as you saw him. Blood flowed from his temple and lip, and an already darkening bruise adorned his right cheekbone. Your eyes rushed down, trying to find all the damage, and then you saw it. Bucky kept his right hand on his left side. His entire palm was scarlet red as the blood passed through his thick suit and soaked through his fingers. Your mouth opened involuntarily, and your eyes instantly filled with tears.

Of course, this was not his first mission, but he always returned almost without any injuries or with something that quickly healed because of his supersoldier serum. It has never been so bad.

Before you knew it, you were already standing next to him. Tears flowed freely down your face, and you raised your hands up, wanting to touch him, but they froze in the air.

 "Bucky…" You sobbed, looking straight into his eyes.

 "Hello, doll" He smiled reassuringly at you, but you saw how he pressed his teeth together to ease the pain. He didn’t want to scare you.

"Bucky, God, wh-what happened? You need to go to the hospital wing. You’re losing a lot of blood!" You gently took his metal hand, but before you could lead him away, he removed it and moved away a little.

"It's all right, doll.  Nothing that I can't handle on my own. Trust me, I’ve experienced worse."

"Buck, Y/N is right." You notice Steve for the first time because all your attention has been focused on Bucky since he appeared. "That punk cut you pretty deep; it needs to be stitched up."

"You know, I never go to the hospital wing." He purses his lips awkwardly, looking down.

Of course. Of course you knew it. Everyone in the tower knew that the Winter Soldier didn't like being touched or visiting doctors, and he had never asked for any kind of help. He always limited himself to a short handshake or a pat on the back from his best friend.

But you also knew that Bucky couldn't take off his clothes in front of anyone. Too many scars from bullets, knives, and other things that HYDRA used to torture him He confessed this to you one evening when you were sitting in the dark in the common room after his nightmare.

In those six months, you got close enough to him that he trusted you to sit with him in the stillness of the night and share his fears. But he still avoided touching and, of course, did not want to show his body to anyone. Even you. Especially to you.

You were one of the few good things in his life. Someone who genuinely wanted to spend time with him, who wasn’t afraid of him, and who was always kind and supportive. Bucky didn't want to lose you. And he knew that if you ever saw him with those ugly marks all over his body, you would run away without looking back. Because who would like it?

The hand that took hundreds of lives. The hand that was forever connected to his body left a big reminder that he was, in fact, just an experiment that went too well. He often looked at his shoulder in the mirror with anger and despair, wanting to get rid of this mixture of scars and torn skin. Obviously, when HYDRA put that prosthetic on him, they didn't care much about looks or pain, so they just hooked it on the way they did.

"Bucky, please listen to me." You sobbed, moving closer to him again. "I know you're afraid to go there, but please, you have to do it, otherwise, you'll lose too much blood or just get an infection." You hugged yourself with your hands as your body began to tremble with concern for the person in front of you. "It can leave a big scar." You whispered and saw that Bucky’s jaw clenched again. You didn’t want him to think that there was something wrong with having scars, but you knew that it was emotionally too hard for him to deal with them.

"I'm sorry, doll, but I can't," he pursed his lips, shaking his head, "you know I can't do it."

"Bucky…" you whispered as more tears started flooding your face. You were so focused on Bucky that you didn't even pay attention to your friends, who stood aside and pretended not to eavesdrop on your conversation.

"Don't cry because of me, doll, please, you don't have to cry." Bucky's voice lowered to a whisper as he worked up the courage to use his thumb to wipe a tear from your right cheek with a metal finger.

You took advantage of the opportunity, grabbing his metal wrist and pressing his hand closer against your cheek.

 "Please, Bucky. Then let's go to your room. I can help you if you don't want to undress there.

"I don't think it's a good idea either, doll.  You don't need to see it."

"James," you focused on his eyes, rubbing small circles with your thumb into his wrist, "it'll be alright, I promise. I'm not afraid of you. I won’t leave. I'll take care of you. Please do it for me."

You were hurt by his gaze. You've seen a thousand thoughts go through that head. Doubt, fear, uncertainty, and pain. He couldn't lose you. Couldn't lose what you had. Even if he wanted so much more, he was content just being around you. He couldn't lose you to a damn ugly piece of metal attached to him.

But you looked at him like your life depended on it. Tears were still running down your cheeks. You were hurt because of him. But you refused to give up and let his self-doubt win this fight. You continued to gently massage his metal wrist as you placed a light kiss on it. And he could no longer resist you.

"Fine."

"It's better if we do this in the bathroom," you said as you closed the door to Bucky's room behind you. You quickly walked past him, going into the bathroom and pulling out the first aid kit you knew was in the bottom drawer. You felt comfortable being a little bit bossy here, and Bucky didn’t mind it.

He quietly followed you, watching you with an unsure face. His blood was still soaking through his arm, but that didn't bother him as much as the fact that he'd have to undress in front of you and that at some point you would touch him.

Once all the necessary things were ready, you turned to face Bucky, already preparing to help him out. But as soon as your hands went up to help him unbuckle his suit, he staggered back, and you froze with your hands in the air. For a few seconds, you silently looked into each other's eyes, then you moved, trying to understand his reaction, and what you saw made your heart ache.

His brows were slightly furrowed, and the corners of his lips were turned down. His eyes always told you everything that he tried to hide, and right now they told you how scared and insecure Bucky actually was.

"I don't think I can do it." Bucky whispered softly, casting his eyes down in shame.

"Hey James, look at me," you said, taking his face in your hands. "I'm your friend, you know? I won't hurt you. I won’t judge you. I won't do anything against your will. But I need to help you because I can see how much pain you're in," you sighed, running your fingers over his cheekbones. "I know it's hard. And I know you're scared or shy, but I'm here for you. None of this scares me, and I'll be as gentle with you as I can, okay? You can tell me if it becomes too much, and I'll stop. I promise."  You could see the tears forming in his eyes, and you couldn't help feeling the pain that this beautiful man in front of you had been without care and affection for so long.

Bucky nodded slightly, giving you permission to continue.

"I’ll clean up your wound on the ribs, and then we can take care of your face." You carefully removed your hands from his, now placing them on the clasps of his suit. You opened them one by one, and when you finally got to the last one, you helped Bucky carefully remove that piece of clothing. Next on the way was a stretchy long-sleeve shirt, and by glancing at the wound, you could see that all the tissue around it was completely covered in blood.

"So, now I'm going to carefully lift up the shirt so you can take it off and not bother your wound too much, okay?" you asked, running your eyes over Bucky's face to understand his emotions. He took a deep breath, as if preparing for the worst, but nodded anyway.

You started to slowly lift up his shirt, helping Bucky pull his hands out one by one, and then tossed that no longer needed rag into the bathtub.

"Oh god," you muttered softly, looking at the wound that seemed to be even bigger now.

Bucky thought that you said it about his appearance in general, so he lifted his head up to the ceiling to stop angry tears from falling.

Come on, Buck, we need to sew this up so it doesn't leave a scar. Do you think you can sit on the counter next to the sink?" You looked at Bucky, but you couldn't meet his eyes. You knew that he was at the edge, his body trembled a little bit, but he still listened to you and silently jumped up on the free space near the sink.

"Bucky," you said quietly, trying to be as gentle as you could. "I see you right now, and I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?" You put your hand back on his face, making him meet your eyes. Before you could think, you placed your right hand on his chest, causing his eyes to instantly widen in surprise. His skin was very warm and silky, even though there were a lot of scars from different conditions. You gently moved your hand, showing Bucky that you’re not afraid, that you’re not a threat, and that he can trust you. "You're doing well, it’s okay," you said as you started rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder.

You backed off a little, finally picking up all the necessary things, and began to sanitize and then stitch up the wound. Every time you needed to put your hand on your skin, you felt Bucky instantly tense under your touch, but you tried to send him quiet words of encouragement and praise. Bucky was very quiet, not making a sound even when the needle pierced his skin. His face wasn’t in bad condition, and Super Soldier serum almost healed them, so you decided to only sanitize and clean his skin.

"Well, you did a great job, James. I'm proud of you." About twenty minutes later, you finally tied the bandage and began to put everything back in the drawer, but then felt a touch on your arm.

You looked back at Bucky, only to meet tear-filled eyes.

"No one has ever taken care of me in a long time, Y/N." You stepped closer to Bucky again, unconsciously placing your hands on his shoulders. "I feel ashamed of my body. Of that arm. I didn't want you to see those ugly scars. God, this is so pathetic—"

"Don't say that," you interrupted him. "That's not pathetic. I understand how you feel. That you have so many negative thoughts about yourself. But Bucky… God, I don't know how to properly say it." You paused for a moment, considering the words. "You're one of the most amazing people I know. And even if many people in the tower are scared or intimidated by you, for me, you are the sweetest, most caring, and most generous person. You remember every little thing I say, make me coffee and food when I'm too busy, pretend to like those shitty movies that I make you watch with me. I'm so sorry that so many bad things happened to such a good person that you feel unworthy of good things."

Suddenly, strong arms surrounded you, and you realized that Bucky was hugging you with arms wrapping around your waist. He nuzzled up to your neck, and you could feel light sobs. Gently, you entangled your fingers in his hair, massaging the scalp with calming movements.

"I don't deserve you, doll." Bucky pulled back a little, still keeping his hands on your waist. "I wish I could be normal for you. Be who I was back in the 40s. I would’ve asked you out and given you everything that you deserved. But that person is not here any more, and I'm not worthy of you."

He wanted to ask you out on a date?  Your heart stopped as soon as the words left his mouth, and you stared at Bucky in surprise. "Bucky—"

"I know…fuck—I shouldn't have said that. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm sorry, doll. I didn't mean to mess anything up between us, I promise. I know you don't feel the same— it's okay, really. Just forget about—"

You didn't let Bucky finish by leaning forward and brushing your lips against his. His flesh automatically tangled in the hair at the back of your neck as the metal one tightened his grip on your waist. For the first few seconds, Bucky was in shock, not kissing you back, but just as you wanted to pull away, his lips began to move, taking over you immediately.

It was the best kiss you ever had. He was gentle yet so passionate. There were a lot of unsaid feelings that Bucky kept to himself for too long. All thoughts seemed to have left your head as the feeling of him filled your whole body.

When there was not enough air, you moved away from each other, touching your foreheads with your eyes closed.

"Fuck" was the first thing he said.

"Yeah," you laughed, finally meeting Bucky's eyes. He looked at you with such adoration that you felt butterflies in your stomach. You just noticed how much skin-to-skin contact you had. "Are you okay with that? Doesn't that make you uncomfortable?" You tilted your head as your hands squeezed his shoulders.

"That's... that's weird. I'm not used to that kind of contact," Bucky said, studying your face. "But I trust you, doll. You are the only person I trust completely." You felt him begin to gently run his hand along your back. "I'd like to ask you out on a date. I mean, if you want to. If not, I totally understand—"

You interrupted him again, leaving a quick kiss on his lips. "I'd like to go on a date with you, James. You know, you’re so cute when you’re shy?"

You've never seen his face so lit up with happiness, with a little bit of pink on his cheeks. Butterflies began to beat in your stomach again, and you realized that it was you who made him feel that way.

"Do you want to go to bed, put on some shitty comedy, and grab some food? I still have to watch over your injury."

"Sounds like a perfect plan, doll." Bucky kissed you on the forehead, interlacing his fingers with you, and led you to his room.

Even if it still required a lot of work, cuddling with Bucky, you knew it was the best place you could be.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n

[sincerelyneo]

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

#nct smut #park jisung smut #jisung smut #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #nct hard hours #kpop smut #nct scenarios #park jisung scenarios #nct imagines

[the-boy-meets-evil]

you're mine | c.sc

you thought you had finally gotten the upper hand on seungcheol. you were wrong. pairing: idol!seungcheol x fem!reader genre: idol!au | smut, pwp rating: explicit | minors DNI warnings: this is mostly just smut so take that how you will, reader is kinda bratty, scoups is possessive, slight dom undertones (? idk i don't usually write this), swearing, kissing, biting, marking, restraints, sensory deprivation (blindfold), fingering, brief mention of a hand job, slight nipple play, use of a pet name (baby, pretty girl), oral sex (f. receiving), vaginal penetration, protected sex, i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything word count: ~3.5k

a/n: idk what to say, this kind of got away from me lol. credit/blame to @seungkwansphd for putting the idea in my head and scoups for whatever bullshit he was on in macao. it was supposed to be a drabble and this isn't what i'd normally write so go easy on me. unbeta'd and mostly unedited. thank you to my baby @playmetheclassics / @classicscreations for the last minute banner and divider!

You’ve never been much of a brat with anyone else. It just isn’t something that crossed your mind. Why would you want to rile someone up on purpose? Why would you want to get under their skin just to see their response? Why would you want to do the opposite of what they asked? So no, it hasn’t crossed your mind.

Until Seungcheol. 

Until you met the man that made you want to cause problems. The man that made you discover a lot of things you didn’t know about yourself. The man that had you from the moment he told you that he was going to go easy on you. You didn’t realize then, but you were fucked. Talk about being in over your head. 

He really did start easy, in hindsight. And he let you get away with things you didn’t even realize. Thought you had the upper hand, actually. How many ways can one person be wrong? You don’t have the answer beyond knowing it’s a lot. 

You love the moments that Seungcheol lets you think you’re in control. You know now that’s all it is. Pretend. He’s always the one actually pulling the strings. And you’re always the one trying to press his buttons, press your luck, gain some ground. 

Today’s test? You want to mark him up. You want to leave your claim on him, but you know you can’t make it obvious. Don’t feel like you can push his buttons quite that hard. So even though you want to mark up his neck, you settle for his chest. You keep telling him that it’s getting too big anyway. Just who is he trying to impress?

Seungcheol is lying in your bed, one arm tucked behind his head and eyes closed. You know he’s not asleep, though, know he’s just enjoying a minute of peace before he has to leave and return to the chaos. And you know now is the best time because he really does have to go soon. It’s the best time to be able to get him and win, even if just for a moment, because there’s a lot of things he’ll do. A lot of things you still haven’t learned. But he’ll never be late. Never miss a schedule or leave his members waiting. 

So you adjust your position under the premise of stretching, not really sure if he buys the act but also not really caring. You push yourself up and quickly swing a leg over his thighs, feel them clench under you quickly as you’re settling on top of them.

“And just who are you working out for?” you challenge, quirking an eyebrow.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” is his only answer as he opens his eyes to look up at you. 

“Maybe I don’t want everyone else to see how good you look,” you pout.

“Maybe you should behave yourself then,” he retorts and you huff.

“I’m pretty sure you prefer it when I don’t,” you say.

You lean forward to kiss him before he can answer, lips meeting softly as his hands move up your thighs to grip your hips. He’s anchoring you to him and you know he’s mentally counting how much time he actually has. But you don’t want to give him that chance, don’t want to give up the tiny bit of control this position and the element of surprise have given you. You get the smallest bit of satisfaction when you break the kiss and he follows your lips. It’s not the time to get distracted, though, not now. So you kiss down his neck, suck just enough to earn a hiss out of him without it being enough to leave a mark. Not there at least. 

When you get to his chest, the muscles in his thighs tighten again. On purpose, you think, to distract you. It’s hard to ignore too, especially when his hands grip your hips harder. When you can tell he’s trying to throw you off.

“Baby,” he whines and you know that whine, know that it’s designed to distract.

All you do is hum against his chest as you continue to kiss across it and down his stomach. His moans are low, the kind that really get to you. The kind where you know he’s enjoying himself even if he’s not fully in control. You kiss back up to his chest and can feel his breaths as you go.

“What are you going to do now, baby?” he asks. You hear the confidence in his voice. The confidence that usually makes you stutter.

Not today, though. You suddenly suck the skin of his chest into your mouth. Seunghcheol hisses in the most satisfying way at the combination of pleasure and pain. His fingers dig into your skin where they hold you in place, making you hum into his skin. It just makes you keep going, managing to suck two marks into his skin before his alarm goes off. 

Without needing to be told, you slide off of him and allow him to get out of the bed. You know he doesn’t want to leave, but you know he’ll be back. Know that he’s got to keep to his schedule or he won’t be able to come over at all. After he’s pulled his shirt back on and gathered his things, he comes to stand in front of where you’re sitting at the edge of the bed. His kiss is soft, at odds with yours from moments ago.

“Listen carefully,” he whispers into your ear in that low voice. “I expect you to be waiting in bed when I text you that I’m headed back.”

“Is that so?” you challenge.

“Yes, pretty girl,” he says.

“And if I’m not?” you press.

“You’ll find out,” he answers.

That alone sends a shiver down your spine. You always want him to come back, never feel like you’ve had quite enough, but this is something even more. You’re looking forward to it. 

The text comes a little later than you’re expecting saying that he’s on his way back over. And it comes without an apology for the lateness (though Jeonghan had texted you earlier to let you know things were running long). No, this text just comes with a reminder that expects you to be waiting for him in bed. He’ll let himself in.

It gives you too good of a chance, one you don’t want to pass up. He’s expecting you to listen, especially after you marked him earlier. But you’ve been waiting for this. And you’re not going to listen. 

Ten minutes later, you hear the key turn in the lock and you sit further back into the couch wearing only one of his t-shirts he’s left behind and underwear. Maybe you’ll get to see a little of his control slipping. 

His eyes are on you the second he’s through the door, narrowing at the open defiance. Seungcheol is serious as he regards you sitting there. It’s like he’s waiting for you to break first and confident you will. It makes you fidget a little in your seat, which seems to be enough for him.

“I asked you to be waiting in bed,” he says.

“I know,” you respond without missing a beat. “I guess I’m not so good at following directions.”

“And what do you think I should do?” He’s more so asking himself the question than you.

“Whatever you want,” you answer anyway. He raises an eyebrow.

“Careful what you ask for, pretty girl,” he warns. 

“I think I can handle it.” It comes out just as bold as you mean for it to.

“We’ll see about that,” he says without missing a beat. “Follow me.”

Every part of you wants to protest, wants to keep pushing him further to see what happens. But your curiosity is also piqued and you really want to see what it is that he’s planning now. That must be why you let the intrusive thought win and follow him back into your bedroom where you find him already reaching into the drawer of your nightstand. The same drawer that he filled so you were always ready.

“Are you going to behave now and get on the bed like I asked?” Seungcheol asks with his back still to you.

“I’m not sure,” you say and smirk at the way it makes him turn around.

“Oh you’re not?” he asks. 

“What’s in it for me if I start listening? Who’s going to rile you up?” you fire back at him.

“You like seeing me riled up,” he notes.

“Of course I do,” you offer.

He closes the space between you in a matter of steps and crushes his lips against yours to prevent another retort. The surprise gives way to desire as you wind your arms around his neck. You’re not even that surprised when he grabs you and lifts you up to deposit you onto the bed, despite the gasp that falls from your lips. He puts a knee between your legs and kisses you hard again before he breaks the kiss to pull off your shirt. You reach to remove your underwear and he stops your hands.

“Leave those,” he says before getting off the bed.

His back is to you again as he looks for something in the drawer. You have to squeeze your legs together when he turns back to you with silk scarves in his hands. But then he’s silently asking your permission before attaching each wrist to the headboard and you’re nodding even as you’re squirming. It’s not until you realize he’s still got something in his hands that you remember he promised you’d find out what happens when you don’t listen.

“What’s that for, Cheol?” you ask as he straddles your lap.

“I told you that you’d find out,” he answers and leans forward so his lips are nearly on your ear. “You don’t get to see what I’m doing. Just remember the word to use if it’s too much.”

That makes you swallow hard. You’ve talked about sensory deprivation and explored it a little, but you’ve never been blindfolded from the start. And part of you thinks that he’s going to leave this on you the entire time. A reminder of who’s actually calling the shots. He’s still gentle when he secures it behind your head, so careful that he doesn’t get any of your hair caught. You blink your eyes when it’s in place without it making much of a difference. You’re not totally blinded, but you might as well be. You can barely make out a shadow.

The next thing you’re aware of is Seungcheol’s lips against your neck, carefully trailing kisses that make you want to press into him. His thumb brushes across your nipple and you whimper, earning a chuckle out of him. Not being able to see is making everything feel a lot bigger. Just making it feel a lot more. There’s no knowing where his hands or mouth will be next and it’s turning you on. Making you want everything all at once.

Seunghcheol drags your nipple between his teeth and you arch into him, careful not to pull too hard against the restraints. The hand he runs down your side as he continues to tease your nipple should tickle, would under any other circumstances. It doesn’t this time, though. 

“Are you going to listen to me next time?” he murmurs against your skin.

“I don’t know,” you manage between a moan. Your nipples are so sensitive.

“What was that?” he asks before he returns to kissing along the underside of your breast while his hand massages the other.

“I said I don’t know,” you repeat, fighting against the answer he wants.

“I guess the blindfold stays on,” he muses. 

With that, he works his way down your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses mixed with goosebumps from the warmth of his breath. Part of you wants to anticipate his moves and you open your legs, just slightly. He chuckles so quietly that you think usually you wouldn’t hear it. Except now everything sounds louder. You feel him remove his lips from your body, feel the bed shift from him moving somehow, and then feel his lips make contact with your skin again. But he’s kissing down from your knee, completely avoiding the place you want him the most. Even your moans and squirming do nothing to make him move on from kissing along your calf.

“Please baby,” you beg. 

“Please what?” he asks, smirk clear in his voice. 

“I need you,” you answer.

“Do you?” is all he asks 

“Yes, Seungcheol, please,” you whine.

“Are you going to listen next time?” he wonders. He runs a finger up your inner thigh, stopping just shy of the material separating you from what you need most.

“Cheol,” you plead.

“Are you?” he repeats. This time he moves your underwear to the side and runs a single finger between your folds. It’s over entirely too fast. “So wet.” 

“Fuck, yes Cheol, whatever you want, I just fucking need you,” you beg again. 

His answer comes in the form of pulling your underwear down swiftly, leaving you naked before him. He runs his finger along your folds again, collecting some of the wetness there. You’re so hyper aware of him that you’re moaning from the barest touch, moaning when you feel his fingers pull away again. But then you feel him move around you and he licks into you without warning, spreading your folds with his fingers to get his tongue deeper.

“Fuck, baby, fuuuuck,” you yell. 

You want to have your hands in his stupid blond hair, the hair he knew was going to drive you crazy. Want to hold his face between your thighs. So you lightly squeeze your thighs together instead and he moans into your cunt. It’s annoying, actually, how good he’s always been at going down on you because just the thought of it makes you agree to damn near anything. 

Everything just feels that much more intense. Usually you love the sight of Seungcheol between your legs. Love to watch the way his head moves, love to see the way his hair falls, love the way the muscles move. Still do. But damn there’s something about not knowing what’s coming that’s making it that much hotter. 

Seconds later his mouth moves up your clit and your back arches into his mouth again. He follows it by sliding a finger inside you and you really think you see stars. Hearing the way he moans into you along with the way his fingers move is almost too much. You don’t need to see anything, he’s setting your entire body on fire. When he slides a second finger in and hooks them to hit you just right, you scream out again. 

He pulls his mouth away. “Oh, do you like that?”

“Fuuuuu- oh my god Cheol, yes yes,” you manage.

“Who fucks you the best, baby?” Seungcheol asks. “Hm? Who does this pussy belong to?” 

It’s honestly into cocky territory and you don’t care. Didn’t realize it was this much of a turn on for him to be possessive over you like this. Didn’t realize how much you wanted to be his, even if it’s confined to these four walls. 

“I’m waiting,” he says, stilling his fingers inside you.

“It’s yours, Cheol, I’m yours,” you whimper.

His fingers start moving again and he doesn’t answer until you feel his mouth on yours, taste yourself on his tongue. He’s catching every moan with his mouth, pushing you to let go, urging you forward. Part of you wants to pull away, knows that he must feel you clenching around his fingers, but doesn’t move his lips from yours. Catches the screams you want to let loose and guides you as you come around his fingers.

Your breathing is still coming back to normal as you feel Seungcheol untying your wrists, massaging each one as he does so. The last thing he does is remove the scarf covering your eyes and you blink even at the low light in the bedroom. His gaze is soft but confident. He knows how hard he just made you come, yet still wants to make sure you’re okay.

“Can we do that again some time?” you wonder and he chuckles.

“I guess it wasn’t a punishment,” he notes.

“Oh no, I’ve definitely learned my lesson,” you tease and he rolls his eyes but there’s nothing behind it.

“Hm,” is all he says.

He’s sitting up on the bed next to you, one hand lightly stroking his cock. You’re not sure when he took off his clothes but just getting you off clearly turned him on. Without even thinking about it, you’re moving to straddle his thighs. His eyes watch you intently as you spit into your hand and move his aside. Your strokes are slow and he lets his head fall back, eyes closing. It’s not often that he lets you set the pace like this, so you’re going to enjoy it while you can. When you run your thumb over the tip, you watch the way the muscles in his stomach contract. And you know his patience is wearing out.

“Enough,” he says and reaches over to the nightstand for a condom. He’s ripping it open with his teeth and then rolling it on the next second.

Seungcheol reaches out to pull you toward him and you realize he’s not planning on moving. No, he’s planning on you riding him. Which is fine by you since you already went this long without being able to see him. You try to lower yourself down slowly because he’s big and as many times as you’ve fucked him, you’re still never quite ready. But he has other plans and pulls you down in one motion.

“Fuck,” you draw out.

“I don’t wanna wait anymore,” he says in that low voice that shoots straight to your core. 

You’re not sure which of you moves first with his hands guiding you as you fuck yourself on him. One of his hands slides up your back and into your hair, pulling it so you arch into him. The new angle has a string of words mixed with moans flying out of your mouth. And it makes it easier for him to pull your nipple between his teeth again. Except this time he doesn’t focus on your nipple. This time he moves to the skin at the side of your breast, sucking hard. Much harder than you sucked earlier. Definitely hard enough to leave a mark. Fucker.

That thought flies out when he snaps his hips into you suddenly, quickening the pace and angling so he’s hitting exactly where you need him too. Each thrust stretches you out and brings you closer to another orgasm. You don’t even register that you’re sensitive from the first. Seungcheol pulls at your hair again and focuses on your exposed neck, a constant contrast of pain and pleasure. He kisses up and down the base before he lands at your pulse point right below your jaw. 

“Cheol fuck,” you yell as he sucks another mark into your skin. Another mark reminding you that you’re his. 

“Are you close, baby?” he asks when he finishes marking you. “Gonna come for me again?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, I’m so close,” you whine out. 

Seungcheol removes his hand from your hair to put both hands on your hips, anchoring you in place while he takes over thrusting into you. You know he must be close too with the way his brow furrows and the way he stutters.

“Fuck baby, come for me, I want to feel you come,” he urges.

It’s all you need and you’re releasing again, a string of fucks leaving your lips as he comes right after you. You try to carefully move through his release before collapsing down on his lap with him still inside you. You lean your head forward onto his shoulder to try and steady your breaths. He kisses lightly along your shoulder, hands trailing absently across your skin.

You like every version of Seungcheol, but you think this version, in the immediate aftermath of fucking him, might be your favorite. The contrast of how soft his touches are does things to your heart that you’re not entirely sure you want to admit. Not to yourself at least.

After another long moment, you gently pull yourself off him and flop back onto your side of the bed. You feel, rather than see, him get off the bed and assume he’s walking off to the bathroom. When he returns with a washcloth a minute later, you’re running your fingers absently along the mark you’re sure he left below your jaw.

“Just in case you forget,” he says before he runs the wet cloth along your skin.

“Forget what?” you question.

“That you’re my girl,” he says. “You can try to be cute and mark my chest or be friends with my members like Jeonghan. But you’re mine.”

“Yes sir,” you say and appreciate the way his eyes darken. Maybe he’s not done with you for the night yet. 

thank you for reading, let me know your thoughts <3

#svthub #kvanity #seventeen fic #scoups fanfic #scoups x reader #scoups x you #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines

[ddejavvu]

HELLO I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOU!!

spencer or remus being teased for being awkward/not knowing how to get a girlfriend by his friends and maybe they take it a lil too far this time because he comes home to reader very annoyed and is basically like "hmph thinking I don't know how to please a woman, I'm gonna give you the BEST time tonight"

im so sorry this is just filth but the idea made me ferallllllllll

(CONGRATS 3.5K AS WELL!!!!)

i love you too!! omg this is from almost a year ago... 3.5k!! also PSA: there's nothing wrong with being a virgin! the only reason it's so upsetting of a label to spencer in this is bc everyone's teasing him about it and using it as an insult, so he's getting sensitive about it </3

combined with: idk man just smth abt the thought of spencer grabbing ur ass while making out w u.... 🥵

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Spencer's exceedingly gentle when he comes home. His demeanor is soft to begin with, but hemmed with exhaustion, and it means that you don't know he's home until he slips his hands over your shoulders and buries his nose in your cheek from behind.

Today, though, you hear his keys jammed into the door, and he slams it shut when he enters. At first you think it's an intruder, no way is your sweet boy huffing and puffing about. But your wide, panicked eyes fall on the boyfriend you're so fond of, and you watch as he wrestles his hair out of his face while trying to peer down at the shoes he's toeing off.

"Hi, Spence." You test him, cautious and slow, "Everything alright?"

"It will be," He huffs, bag thrown to the ground. You cringe at the sight before remembering there's no laptop inside, something you could never do with your own bag.

"Bad day? I'm sorry, honey, do you wanna talkaboutit- Oh!"

He rushes towards you, gripping your waist in his hands. There's no time to calmly finish your sentence when his lips crash to your own, frustration ebbing into his movements as force.

"Spence- Spencer!" You manage to blubber, holding your hands steady against his cheeks and pushing him back. You're breathless, lips tingling and core doing the same. He raises an eyebrow at you in display of a side of him you've never seen before, and something below your stomach wriggles in delight.

"What's going on?" You query, "Not- not that I don't enjoy it, but this isn't you."

He scoffs, eyes rolling as his hands tighten around your hips, "Why does everyone think I'm some fuck-up virgin?"

"Woah," You stop pushing his cheeks away and grab them instead, redirecting his exasperated gaze to your own, "Spencer you almost mauled me when you came in, now this? What's the matter, honey?"

"Morgan and Prentiss made a bet," He huffs, "Derek thinks I'll be a virgin until 30. Emily says 40."

"But you're not," You frown, brows furrowed as your cheeks heat up at memories of sex-capades past, "Just tell them that, and- and take their money!"

"I tried," He groans, "They didn't believe me. They thought I was making you up."

"Oh, Spence." You sigh, leaning in to nuzzle your nose with his, "I'm sorry. That's mean."

"I'm not hopeless," He grumbles, speaking almost against your lips, "Not like that. Not with you."

"No, you are not," You laugh breathlessly, "You want me to mark up your neck? Show 'em I'm real?"

"That's..." He debates, brows raised in intrigue, "Not the worst idea I've ever heard. But- but not yet, angel."

"Oh?" You hum, lips dotting against his cheek, "Is there something else you want to do first?"

"Several things," One corner of his mouth lifts as he hikes your leg up on his waist, hands greedily grabbing at the globes of your ass, "Come on, angel. Let's prove 'em wrong."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

[hanggarae]

GROWL - ARE YOU ATTRACTED TO ME TOO ?

↺ content your ceo has made a point of making your life a living hell and you aren’t sure how long you can keep up with it, part 2 of my ‘promotion’ series, ceo!jeonghan, f!office worker!reader, jeonghan’s such an asshole in this part even worse than in part one, jeonghan is so dumb and clueless, bffs bss, this is honestly hardly a tear jerker so idk if it’s technically angst but ig ?? idk 😞

↺ a/n : 3.5k words, npr, another enemies to lovers jeonghan, loosely based off of lyrics from growl by exo but also lowk not ?? im trying to finish this series as quick as i can bc i know that when i start studying ill go back to the irregular posting schedule and this will never see the light outside my drafts (like the chan thoughts part which i had ready for months but never got around to posting)

‘He’d get bored of trying to get a rise out of you in a month or less so all you had to do was put up with him until then’

Life was a bitch, a petty bitch- and so was Jeonghan.

It’d been four months since you became his assistant, or as you like to call it: four months of hell. He didn’t go easy on you one bit and constantly belittled you.

Ever since you left that night without him knowing he made it his personal goal to continue punishing you for it by constantly gave you tasks were no less than humiliating. You underestimated just how petty a grown man could be. Despite him clearly finding this job boring, he stayed due to the laugh he got out of making you suffer. What’s worse is you couldn’t deny the fact that he was too pretty for his own good.

“Here is your schedule for the day, sir” you forced a smile on your face, handing your boss his coffee brewed exactly how he enjoys it (you learnt that the hard way when Jeonghan once took the cup out of your hands and poured it all over your desk and paperwork, ridiculing you for ‘not being useful enough to even make a decent coffee’).

Jeonghan simply stared at you, bringing the cup to his lips and taking an obnoxiously loud sip. “Reschedule the meeting with Hong, I don’t want to have it today” he mumbled, bored of the day already.

You tried your best to compose yourself and not throw that coffee in his face while you scream about how he’s an incompetent brat that needs to actually get some work done. But you couldn’t do that so you settled with the satisfaction of imagining the scene in your head.

“Unfortunately sir, that isn’t possible. You’ve already rescheduled three times, and Joshua’s been-”

Jeonghan seemed to perk up at that, “oh the meetings with Shua? Why didn’t you say that silly? you can bring him in right now”

“I’ve told you it’s with him four times but alright-”

“No back talk or I’ll demote you to coffee maker”

You bit back the words on the tip of your tongue and instead started to walk over to the reception where Joshua was waiting.

You remember Joshua. He was still Jeonghan’s friend even back in high school, although he never picked on you like Jeonghan did. From what you remember, Joshua wasn’t really interested in proving himself when it came to academics.

“Mr Yoon will see you now” you told him politely, holding the door open for him to follow you.

“About time” he laughed with no real offence, “he really took his time, huh?”

You simply returned his laugh and agreed with him wordlessly, leading him to Jeonghan’s office. The man in question gave his longtime friend a loud greeting.

“Shua I had no idea the meeting was with you” the long haired man scoffed, “my assistant over here told me it was with your uncle”

“If that’s what you thought I don’t blame you for postponing it as much as you did” Joshua laughed easily, dispersing your anger toward your boss.

The two continued to talk for another hour or so while you drowned out the noise and focused on the task Jeonghan had given you. Times like these really tempted you to quit because what sort of maniac gives you one day to finish organising a dinner with some business partners.

When Joshua was ready to leave you followed him out and waved him goodbye before mentally preparing yourself for your boss giving you his very much unwanted undivided attention.

“y/n, you don’t have anything planned for next week do you?” your boss stated more than asked while looking through his own planner. “Any personal plans outside of work?”

His attitude irked you so much.

“Well I have a dinner with my friends for-”

“Cancel it.” Jeonghan stated plainly.

You blinked a few times, laughing awkwardly. There’s no way he was being serious right?

“I’m sorry sir?”

“You heard me. Cancel it” he approached you even closer. “And pack your bags, we’re going on a business trip tomorrow night”

Your mouth opened, anger painting your features but Jeonghan left before you could argue.

This wasn’t fair. Next week was your birthday, your friends insisted on planning a dinner for you and you were honestly really looking forward to it. Knowing Jeonghan though that didn’t mean anything to him, he’d probably laugh at you for even thinking that gave you an excuse.

Luckily, you might still make it in time for your birthday dinner. Jeonghan explained the details of the trip to you and your plane was on Thursday night, meaning you’d get back on Friday at around 6am. The dinner was planned for Friday night so if you could power through the jet lag and sleep deprivation you’d enjoy that dinner with your friends.

If you were being honest you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing on this trip. Other than ordering his room service there really wasn’t any use in your being there. Eventually you came to the conclusion that Jeonghan dragged you along in favour of just making you suffer.

For some odd reason though, Jeonghan liked to drag you along to whatever parties and dinner his aristocratic friend group enjoyed throwing.

And although it was a pretty sight, you could only really just feel out of place being there.

Like tonight, the venue was absolutely gorgeous but you didn’t belong here. Not with people that had six digits in their savings from the moments they learnt to talk.

To your surprise however, Jeonghan was uncharacteristically tame. After the way he’s treated you the last few months it was safe to assume that he would go out of his way to embarrass you any chance he got at these dinners but he was surprisingly helping you adjust well.

Tonight was your last night in Paris and the two of you were attending a dinner hosted by his associate. Wonwoo was nice, he was down to earth despite probably having more money than everyone in your branch combined.

What wasn’t nice was the way Jeonghan was stalling getting out of here. Did he want you guys to miss the plane?

“We need to head to the airport now if we’re planning on catching that plane?” You urged, trying to reason with your boss while everyone around you was distracted.

“Wouldn’t that be rude of us?” Jeonghan scoffed before smirking, “did nobody ever teach you any manners, y/n?”

No matter how much you urged Jeonghan, he wouldn’t budge. You thought it was pretty much useless at this point, debating on whether or not you should text your friends to reschedule the dinner or just let them enjoy it without you.

As you watched the flight updates on your phone and saw the signal that your flight had already left, you felt tears well up in your eyes. You were so tired of this. How many tears were you going to lose on this? On him? He didn’t even matter to you.

And you weren’t sure why you mattered to him. Just because he’s too petty to forget about something that happened in high school?

The entire drive back to the hotel, you kept refreshing the tab to see if there were any other flights but it was no use. The only ones available would make you arrive too late for the dinner so there was no way you were making it on time.

It seemed silly, being this upset about a dinner. But you hadn’t gotten the chance to properly celebrate your birthday, or anything really, in years and it felt nice for your friends to plan an entire night just dedicated to you. And you probably felt worse about all of their efforts going to waste.

When you made it back to the hotel you didn’t say a word to Jeonghan. You didn’t curse at him, you didn’t scream at him, you didn’t defend yourself from his comments.

You just.. headed back to your room and texted your friends that you were sorry.

You stayed in your room for another twenty minutes, thinking about what Jeonghan’s motive was. There was no way you could continue working with him.

A notification on your phone drew your attention. An email from some cosmetics brand wishing you a happy birthday and giving you a coupon code to celebrate.

It was only then that you realised it was now just a few minutes after midnight meaning it was officially your birthday.

Even though you should be happy, only more tears fell.

You don’t know how long you just sat on the bed, wallowing in your own self pity before somebody knocked at the door.

You quickly dried your tears before pulling it open, gasping at the sight in front of it.

Jeonghan stood there, a huge smile on his face, holding a cake that read ‘Happy birthday’ in green frosting. You hated green.

“Happy birthday y/n” he greeted loudly. There was something so sick and twisted about this. Maybe even sadistic.

Before you knew it you were tearing up again. Was this some sort of sick joke? He ruins the only plans you’ve had, the only time you’ve asked something of him these past months as his assistant, the only time you asked him to cut you some slack and he’s.. standing there smiling with a cake that has frosting of a color you hate.

“Sir, when we get back tomorrow- or whenever we do, you need to find a new assistant because I can no longer do this” you told him plainly, too tired of the way he’s treated you.

You ignored the way his face fell and eyes widened, “If I can’t return to my old position then I’d like to be transferred to a different branch. And if that’s also not possible then I resign from the company”

You didn’t wait for his answer, you didn’t wait for him to laugh and call you pathetic for quitting halfway through, you just closed the door and went to bed.

Jeonghan didn’t fly on the same flight as you, probably staying in Paris for an extra few days but you honestly weren’t sure. And you honestly didn’t care.

Despite saying you’d try staying at the company, you realised you wouldn’t be able to without feeling uncomfortable. And Jeonghan was in a position where he could still make your life hell so you simply resigned altogether.

You were a valued employee and were smart in keeping connections with big companies you’ve worked with on projects in the past, and even the few you met in your week in Paris. So you really weren’t worried about finding a new job, maybe it’d even be better than your last one.

It’d been three months since you quit working at the Yoon company and although it was nothing special at your new job it beat having an asshole boss setting you up for failure everyday.

It’d honestly be a lie to say you haven’t thought about Jeonghan since quitting. Partially because you now worked under Choi Seungcheol, who you learnt was one of Jeonghan’s best friends. Meaning you’d sometimes run into him but you never spared him a second glance.

Ever since you got the new job you decided to do some things that you’ve been meaning to but never got around to- one of them being to get a new apartment.

You’ve been living in your current one since just after you graduated college and you could definitely afford to now upgrade it. The place you’ve been looking at was in a far better neighbourhood and building.

You decided to pull the trigger on it sooner rather than later, knowing that the longer you put it off the more likely you were to just discard the idea in the end.

You hated making second trips to carry luggage, so you decided to carry all of your moving boxes in one go, despite the fact that all of them piled in your arms blocked practically your entire line of vision.

Just as you were getting off the elevator you heard the person getting on chuckle lightly at the sight in front of them.

“You need any help with that?” The voice sounded oddly familiar you thought as he started to grab most of the boxes from your arms before you could protest.

Oh is he serious?

You looked unimpressed at the man in front of you, “Give me my boxes back.”

“What-” he hadn’t noticed you until you said that. Glaring at him, clearly unhappy with seeing him again.

Jeonghan simply scoffed, not giving you the boxes back and only asking you what number he needed to take them to.

“You can take them back to my arms” you bickered despite leading him to your apartment anyway.

“Don’t think Cheol’s gonna like how you can’t type for two weeks because you broke your arms while moving” he argued back, doing a double take when he saw the number outside of your door. Giggling when he realised.

Before you could ask him what was going on he giggled, “And, it wouldn’t make me a very good neighbour, would it?”

He smiled before using his own keys to open the door of the apartment right across from yours. This cannot be real.

“You live here?” You whined, not caring if it made you look childish in front of him anymore.

“Mhm” he hummed coming back to you to help you get all the boxes inside, “Let me know if you need help with anything else, neighbour”

“So he lives literally down the hall?” Soonyoung asked you, taken aback. “Small world”

“I’m still convinced he had something to do with it” you grasped your soda can tighter, the metal denting under the pressure.

“You think he’ll be there right now?” Seokmin asked, taking another handful of popcorn.

“Why? Do you want him to give us some michelin star food or something?” Seungkwan asked, continuing to look through the selection of movies for you guys to watch.

“If he does don’t eat it! He probably poisoned it or something” you muttered bitterly.

It was just your luck for the person you despised most to just happen to now live three steps away from you.

It’d only been a week since you moved here but you’d already ran into him five times. Five times too many in your opinion. You were ready to complain about him all over again until the doorbell rang.

“What do you want?” You said crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well it seemed like such a fun party over here. How could I miss out, am I right?” You realised really was the most arrogant man you’ve ever met when he invited himself in and made himself comfortable on your couch. “What’re we watching?”

You also realised your friends were not loyal. Despite cursing him out with you for the last few months they were too quick to become friends with him- even if it was because of the alcohol you really did not care.

It was approaching 3am and you couldn’t sleep, the guys all getting too drunk and crashing on your couch in the other room.

After tossing and turning a few more times you crawled out of your bed and into the building’s hallway, careful to tread lightly to not wake anyone up even Jeonghan.

Ever since your landlord gave you the keys to your apartment and access to the building’s rooftop you think you’ve been here everyday since.

The cool breeze always hit you just perfectly, momentarily letting you forget about everything in the world.

It really wasn’t fair. How Jeonghan treated you. You laugh to yourself when you realise you hold the same thoughts as your high school self, upset that her crush all of a sudden started to insult her for being top of the class.

You’d like to say that you don’t care about what Jeonghan thinks about you, but you know you’d be lying to yourself. That inner teenager of yours that still wants Jeonghan to like her back.

You don’t think you like Jeonghan anymore- but you also don’t think you hate him. And when you realise you don’t hate him after the way he’s treated you, you think you must like him at least a little to forget about that.

“Stop biting your nails” a voice from beside you says.

You don’t recognise it at first and instantly lunge at whatever it is, thinking it was a crazed psycho killer or something.

“Okay I get I wasn’t a saint to you but you didn’t have to hit me in the face y/n what the fuck?” The man groaned.

“Well maybe you should stop sneaking up on me Yoon” you forced out despite feeling a little guilty.

“Well I wouldn’t have to sneak up on you if you acted like a normal person and didn’t leave your apartment at 3am!” He scoffed, flicking your forehead with his finger lightly.

You glared at him before turning back to look at the view over the city.

“We’re not friends, I’d appreciate if you stopped acting like we were”

“We’re not friends? And here I was buying us matching cups” fake pouted, the same way he would when you worked for him and complained about the workload.

The more you remembered how it was like having Yoon Jeonghan as your boss the less you wanted to even be near him.

“You’re not funny, Yoon” you mumbled. Not like he cared.

“You’re not my employee anymore, y/n. I don’t care if you call me by my name now” Jeonghan looked at you.

You think you got even angrier when you looked back at him. Pretty privilege was real and Yoon Jeonghan probably benefited from it the most. Even at 3am and drinking for hours he’s still beautiful enough for you to forget how awful of a person he is.

“Even so, I’m nobody compared to you and I’m nobody to you,” you laughed bitterly, “So I’d prefer to not call you by your first name. Just like you requested”

“You really hold a grudge, don't you?”

“Fuck you Jeonghan” you looked at him baffled, “I hold a grudge? You tormented me for months because of some stupid thing that happened in high school that wasn’t even my fault”

“And even now you’re-” you sputtered, “you’re still trying to blame me. I didn’t do anything to you Jeonghan! You’re the asshole that did everything to me!”

You expected Jeonghan to get mad at your rant and say something back, instead he just stared at, ghost of a smile on his lips and some unreadable glint in his eyes. “You said my name”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. He really could not take anything serious. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’ve been asking myself that too” he got closer to you, “you know ever since you left I’ve strangely been really sad in the office. Moping around looking for something- or someone”

“After a while I realised that was you. I missed you, y/n. And then I realised I like-”

“This has to be the worst confession I have ever heard of, Jeonghan” you looked at him surprised at how he could even begin to think this was what a good confession sounded like. “If anything this just makes me think you’re a sadist who enjoys making the girl they like cry everyday in the office bathrooms”

“Cut me some slack, I only worked this out two weeks ago” Jeonghan whined, and you really had to question if he genuinely believed this would get you to forget the way he acted. “I’ve seen the damn Notebook, we’re supposed to start kissing in the rain now”

“After the hell you put me through Jeonghan, I deserve a lot more than whatever you just threw together” you said before starting to walk away.

“Wait!” Jeonghan quickly grabbed ahold of your wrist before you could leave. “What do I have to do to get you to.. you know, look I’m not good at this!”

“Well for starters I think you should look up the definition of what liking someone is and how people usually act when they do like someone. When you work out how to love them right then let me know”

“Wait but before I start to show you that I can be a good person and an even better boyfriend, can you at least let me know it’s not completely useless. Like you’re not just going to reject me in the end to get back at me” Jeonghan looked at you desperately.

“I’ll see you around” you said before leaving, retreating to your apartment for the night. But Jeonghan could see the ghost of a smile on your lips.

Jeonghan was an idiot, he thought to himself, but he had a chance. He had to work this out somehow- and quick. You were a pretty girl, probably the prettiest girl Jeonghan had ever seen, you definitely had other guys interested and if he wasn’t quick he’d end up losing you to them.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen x you #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x y/n #yoon jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan angst

[eatommo]

Kisses of Fire [j.m.]

Summary: You and Joel get caught up in a champagne-filled domestic dream, and your impulses are too strong to resist. Aka, you and Joel sing and dance in the kitchen until you can't deny your feelings any longer.

C.w: slight dub con because of alcohol consumption, mentions of parental loss, age gap (reader is in her 20s), unprotected pinv, lots of praise, pet names, Joel is a sweet talker, fluffy dancing and cooking with Joel, size kink?, creampie, squirting, oral sex (f receive), mentions of oral sex (m receive), breeding kink if you squint, mutual pining?, idk I probably missed some let me know!

A/n: Hello! I am alive! I started a new job and it's been pretty crazy but I am pleased to bring you my first Joel Miller fic and my first contribution to the Dbf!joel subgenre that has been one my favorites lately. enjoy!

~3.5k

“Joel, the sauce is going to burn.” you stumble through a laugh, trying to focus the little clarity of your mind on the chicken browning in your ceramic pan. He had insisted on opening a glass of champagne to congratulate you on your new job. It was sweet and dry, exactly what you liked, and it went down easy.

You were sitting around the coffee table gushing and hardly letting the man get a word out, and then he asked if you were hungry, and well you hadn't yet eaten and with your stomach growling at his words, he was very insistent.

In truth, you'd always looked out for each other, you'd help pick up Sarah from school, on occasion try new recipes in his much larger kitchen, and in turn, he'd fix your sink leak, install a new shower head, or even build you a new coffee table.

Here standing in his kitchen you felt so comfortable, stirring the pasta with one hand and rummaging through his cabinets for oregano with the other. It could've been the alcohol or the decade-long crush on the older man that was driving you wild.

With a rush of melody, you realized where he disappeared as the fun rhythmic beat of Be My Baby echoes through the living room and into the kitchen. Joel's words barely call above the song, “Oldies okay?”

You turn to answer him, only to catch him jamming out to the song behind you as he strides cool as a cucumber back into the kitchen. “More than okay.” You’re beaming, enjoying the music and the laid-back demeanor of his slight dance and groove.

You've cherished the few moments of joy since your father passed away a few years ago, singing with him and Sarah in the car, bullying Joel onto a rollercoaster, and summertime BBQs complete with movie marathons.

This felt different. Not only was Sarah noticeably absent, but there was an electric hum of something between you, it was almost palpable. Chalking it up to the alcohol, you settle back into your rhythm of taking care of the food in front of you with extra sway to your hips and occasionally singing into the wooden spoon like a microphone.

Joel returns to your side, stirring the thick sauce before grabbing a spoon from a drawer and tasting it. He moans around the cheap metal, throwing his head back in exaggerated ecstasy.

Hoping the heat from the stove disguises your blush, you carefully accept a spoonful he offers you after he cools with a few quick purses of his lips, humming in agreement.

“What did you say this recipe was called?” When he's been drinking, his Texan drawl lengthens, and you swallow around the lump in your throat, lord have mercy.

“Marry me chicken? It's said to get a man to marry you on its own…” you try and let your voice trail off as he grabs a colander and begins to strain the noodles for you, and before you can think you add, “I thought it would be good practice.”

You catch something in his face as he looks toward you, now mouthing the words to a song by Simon and Garfunkel, but your brain is a little too fuzzy to dissect it completely. Turning off the heat, you quickly add bacon and parmesan before tossing the chicken and sauce mixture on top of Joel's freshly strained pasta.

He hovers over you like he hasn't eaten for days, grumbling something about sweet torture as you garnish his bowl with freshly grated cheese. Turning your attention to the table you see a second bottle of champagne adorning a small dining set, and your flukes full and awaiting your attention, and your blush returns, what is happening to you?

Dismissing himself to turn the music lower, you set his plate down and settle into your chair beside his. Briefly, you consider refusing another glass, you were supposed to drive home, but his slightly tousled curls and the nonplussed smirk on his face as he walks into your field of vision wash over your body like a cool shower on a hot Austin evening, refreshing, revitalizing, and rewarding you with his simplistic beauty.

The way his eyes fell to yours with each silly verse, speaking to each moment you’ve swooned over him in private and cementing the swell of your heart. He sits and you both immediately dive into the food, moaning in unison at the salty and creamy flavor. “I get it.”

“For sure.” You confirm, shoveling more into your mouth as delicately as you can in your haste. “I’ll keep it in my back pocket for sure.” You both laugh and reach for your champagne for a toast.

“To the luckiest man in the world.” This time, he does a piss poor job of covering his shock, and you don’t dare let the moment slip from your grasp, setting your fork down, and reaching to settle your hand on his forearm, tenderly running your fingers over the rough-tanned skin.

The affection seems to coach a weight from his shoulders, as the tension in them drops and he meets your eyes with a deep and wicked sense of playfulness. Holding his gaze, and touching the lips of the flukes together you smile innocently, and hum as the cool bubbles coat your tongue and lift your confidence higher with every passing moment.

In a flash you feel the energy in the room shift, as silence flirtatious eye contact is shared between smaller sips of champagne and groans of delight, you find your eyes lingering longer on the base of his throat and the purse of his lips around the tip of the glass.

In your stupor you miss his devilish grin, he’s chasing the feeling of your gaze on his skin, drinking in the slip of your guard, and suddenly the incredible food you prepared for him is not nearly enough to sate him.

It’s his turn to stare, watching as your lips part in a soft pant as he takes a lingering swig from his glass, imagining how delicious this could pair with the taste of your pussy. Fuck, he’s so hopeless, you could talk him into anything, yet you sit and torture yourself undressing him with your eyes and practically projecting your dirty thoughts onto his chest.

When your eyes meet again your breath catches in your throat, some snarky comment you bury beneath the burning fire on your cheeks. “Joel…” it’s an invitation, a plea, and your heart stands still in its cage in the breath between your words and his mouth on yours.

His beard and moustache are rough against your lips, but the kiss is hungry, and not nearly as vulnerable as you feel. It's a clash of tongues and teeth, your bodies are drawn together like the world is stitching them together with desperate rough movements.

You can taste the rich sweet champagne on his tongue as it drags over yours, tilting your head back with a soft hand on your throat. Standing to his feet, he breaks the kiss with a reluctance you feel, but he’s ushering the plates off the table in a single trip, setting them on the counter to be dealt with later. The complaint dies in your throat, as you let your brain devour him in a primal sense. The broad expanse of his chest rising and falling in heavy needy breath, the veins in his neck as he tilts his head to return the same hungry stare, you don’t make it past his biceps before his hands are on your sides, directing you to stand but only for a mere second as your practically lifted onto the kitchen table.

His mouth is on yours again, hot and determined, your mind is made up, and he can feel it in each little whine he swallows. Confidence surges through him, bolstered by the hum of alcohol in his system, and he leans over you guiding you to your back, while he slots himself between your legs.

You part them quickly, wanting to feel him pressed against you more than you want to breathe, and rather than following you he kisses down the smooth skin of your calves and begins working on the button of your shorts, yanking them up and off with a dexterity that would surprise you had it been anyone else.

The thin cotton panties are not your first choice of sexy intimates, but it doesn’t seem to phase him as his gaze holds at the growing wet spot pooling in the fabric. His index fingers ghost over the seam of your pussy. “Are you sure?” He kisses the words across your skin, moving along the inside of your thighs as his stubble draws the nerves in your skin taught.

You blink your eyes a few times, almost not believing and basking in the warmth of his breath. Your mouth falls open in a pant as you throw your head back onto the table, in any other circumstance it would've hurt. “Yes…Joel…please.” Each word takes a lungful of air worth of effort.

There's a dark chuckle as if taunting you for being so pathetic, as he nibbles on the skin of your inner thigh, you feel goosebumps spread across all your skin, unaware if it's from shame or the heat of his mouth muttering sweet nothings into your skin.

“So pretty,” he coos letting two fingers trace over your slick panties, “Spread out on my table for me,” he presses harder but slows his movements to a beautifully slow taunt, “A fucking meal.”

The chair moves sharply back with his movement, as he pulls your underwear to the side and licks at your hole for his first taste. His mouth is feverish in appetite, licking and sucking and caressing each part of your sex, the assault is overwhelming at first, the movements so erratic you’re unable to focus on anything but trying to breathe. Cantering your hips against his mouth his rough palm stalls one of your thighs from closing, the hand is firm and warm commanding you to obey in just its presence. “More,” you beg, again the pleasure dulled as he slowed to listen.

His free hand goes to the waistband of your underwear running along its length and tickling the skin, before you feel a rough tug at the fabric and hear the tearing sound before you can even comprehend what’s happened. The fabric disappears and the soft table mat you are perched on protects you from the cool wood of the table. He mumbles more things into the flesh of your mound, and he kisses at the exposed skin of your hips, “Sweet little thing.”

You throw a hand over your eyes, losing yourself to the embraces and brushes of pleasure he showers you in. He settles back between your legs, pinning them to your chest with his arm and working two fingers slowly into your tight heat. The stretch is pleasant, and he lets his tongue lave over the top of your sex. “Joel.” You whimper feeling his knuckles curl inwards brushing against a bundle of nerves that has your vision lulling white. Each stroke feels like it's pulling your soul from your body, and an unfamiliar pressure builds as he coaxes the orgasm to the surface with his tongue swirling over your clit.

You explode, soaking the table and his hungry waiting mouth feeling the clear gush of liquid pool beneath you and coat your thighs. “Oh god, I’m sorry I-” you stammer, not having experienced this yourself before.

Joel’s attention snaps to your eyes, “Don’t.” It's a warning, his eyes dark and muddled with something animalistic you’ve only seen when he’s angry. “You’re going to do it again.” he sits straight, and you realize he’s still fully dressed as he stands on his feet, dwarfing you against the table, undoing the length of his belt.

Unsure if your breathing is coming fast or if he is moving slowly, undoing the buttons of his flannel, and exposing skin that you’ve seen countless times before, but as each button is freed and his shirt spills open, you struggle to keep your breath even. Thick tanned skin, soft to the touch but cords of practical muscle run through his pecks, and down his well-defined biceps hold your eyes still, as your heart clips away steadily. You mumble something about his muscles, fawning over him like you’ve done so many times before, but unafraid to get caught this time.

He peers down at you, maintaining eye contact through your spread thighs as you lay waiting gawking at him like you always have, the loose leather of his belt is tugging the jeans down his hips slightly exposing the soft flesh of his stomach and the feather-light trail of hair disappearing below his jeans. He longed to reduce you to a babbling drooling mess, he wanted to mark your skin his and fill you so full his traces would linger on your cunt for days. Days, he knew it wouldn’t be easy to stop, he felt like he was running downhill and his legs were jelly beneath him, hurtling towards some sort of self-destructive meltdown. But the sweet tang of you lingering in his mouth, splashed across his chest, on his dining room table.

You were perfect, even more so than he thought possible. He ached, the jeans strangling his thick cock, he longed to free himself and sink into you. “Come here.” he stepped closer, back between the welcome squeeze of your thighs, and he wondered if he would need a new table.

You sat up barely even with his chest and when you're close enough he brings you in for a deep and filthy kiss, giving you a chance to taste your slick from his tongue and to groan as your hand settles over the hard length of his cock in his pants. You allow a finger to trace over the outline surprised when your hand keeps finding more of him to play with, fighting the urge to squeak in delight as each kiss grows in fervor.

If Joel hadn't suggested otherwise, you would've happily been fucked to bliss on the table, but as one of his hands falls to cup the supple flesh of your ass you're lifted into his sturdy arms. Now even this isn't a first, but your cunt is pressed flat to the ripped muscles of his abdomen and you can't help but trail feather-like kisses and nips across the thin skin covering his Adam's apple, half tempted to suck a bruise into his skin as he whines lowly into hair.

He traverses the stairs with ease, fingers squeezing and playing with your ass as he does so. As you enter his room, he leans in for another searing desperate kiss, nipping and tugging on your bottom lip almost painfully slow.

The bed is plush, more so than you expect, the sheets feel cool and inviting as you settle into them, not daring to turn your attention away from Joel for a second. The moon is the only light in the room, but it's bright enough for you to drool over the large bulge he reveals as he shucks his jeans.

“Something you want darlin?” that all-knowing chuckle, call your attention to his face, always handsome but there's a depravity and a hunger in his eyes that is a little bit intimidating.

“I-” You struggle to decide what exactly it is you want to do, part of you wants to let him lay down and have you suck his cock dry, and the other part wants to see you bent in half stuffed full of his cum.

Your stumble only brings another dry chastising chuckle, “Don’t worry honey, I'll take care of you.” His dark boxers leave little to the imagination, the fabric pulled tight across him as the curve of his cock is pinned to the curve of his hip. He’s huge, bigger than you could’ve dreamed, and by the looks of it nice and thick, you would be happily limping around in the morning.

He plants his hands next to your legs, crawling up your body until he’s even with your mouth, his skin radiating heat and his mouth meets yours once more. The taste of you is still lingering in his mouth, spurring you on.

The clothed hardness of him presses against you, insistent and delightfully relieving the tortuous pressure building at your core. You run your hands against the muscles of his back, at first gently caressing but as his teeth skim your pulse you dig into the flesh with your nails. “Joel…” you whimper, knowing if he wanted to drag this any further you'd have no choice but to beg, there's something so addictive to his power and the way he looks at you. He knows what he's doing to you, he knows the way you shift your hips to grind against him is a silent plea, he wishes he could withhold longer, but each hitch in your breath coaxes more precome spilling into his boxers, he hasn't been this hard since he was a teenager.

He hushes you, soothing you with a hand running over your hair, and shoves his boxers down to free himself. He lets the weight of his cock slide over your sex, the thick head catching deliciously on your clit and allowing it to get coated in what's left of your cum. You both groan into another kiss, “Condom?” The question shocks you into reality briefly, but you quickly shake your head no, not bothering an attempt to form any words.

You swear you hear a whimper in his half-lidded chuckle, but you try to focus on the feeling of his body pressing against yours, the heat of him and the rich smell of his skin the taste of his mouth as he kisses you through a few more lazy strokes.

He runs a calloused hand over the soft skin of your throat before sliding it around and into the hair at the back of your neck, tilting your eyes to his As he lines up and slides in a single brutal thrust. Your body tenses at the stretch, but the pleasure is immense and Joel's mouth parts in a pant so beautifully you crack a wickedly seductive smile.

As he begins to canter his hips, his grip on your hair gets tighter, holding your eyes to his, his pelvis grinds delectably against your clit, as the ridges of his cock and the angle of his hips drag along your walls. You wonder if you'd been able to take it if it hadn't been Joel, you don't think you've ever been this fucked out in your life. He presses your legs slightly further apart nudging at your cervix, and grounding down.

The orgasm rips through you before you know it, the shake in your legs and your panted obscenities only encourage him further. “Fuck, good girl,” your hips love on their own grinding up fucking yourself through the climax as a second wave of white-hot pleasure soaks his abdomen and your thighs, “So good baby.”

Your head drops, body limp and wrecked he kisses along your cheeks and forehead, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

He moves quicker than you can register what's happening, his boxers are on the floor and suddenly you are straddled over his lap dropping down onto his cock as he buries his face in your tits. Tongue drags deliciously over your nipples as he lets you adjust to the new angle, you rest your head on top of his, kissing his sweat-damp hair and rocking your hips slowly. You didn't think he could feel any bigger, each slight rock nudges almost painfully against your cervix, words no longer forming in your brain and breath escaping in squeaks.

You let yourself get caught up in the moans and praise failing out of Joel nonsensically, the drag of his stubble on your skin overstimulating, you bear down on him and shiver as you hear the hitches in his breathing. “Where?” you almost miss it, his voice is hoarse, desperate, strained even.

“Cum inside me.” you can't suppress the smirk, “I want it.” It's your turn to pull his head back, looking deep into the rich dark brown eyes as they admire you, he chews on his lip. His shoulders hunch as you feel him twitch, his grip tightening on your hips as he uses the last bit of his strength to bounce you on his lap and fuck up into you as he cums deep and hard into your wrecked swollen pussy.

You suppress a shutter, you feel like you're made of gelatin and you slump against his body, going completely slack.

He waits a few moments to collect his wits and allows you both to catch your breath. “Should I start a shower?” You laugh, hoping to skirt over any sort of rebuff.

“Sure,” he massages the flesh of your ass, “I'll take care of the leftovers.” You're overwhelmed with a sense of relief, both letting out a massive sigh at the same time, and laughing once you make eye contact again. You feel his heartbeat against your chest and lean in for another kiss, the complicated stuff can come later, but the smile he gives you as he tilts his chin up slightly for thekiss, makes you feel like it's all going to be more than you could've dreamed of.

#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #dbf!joel #pedrostories

[moonrisecoeur]

contentment - leon kennedy

a/n: this is just me, a dom lady, rambling about leon. idk which leon this is… maybe re4? maybe id? who knows

content: sub leon, afab reader, no pronouns, oral (reader receiving), reader orgasm, manhandling (of leon), degradation, praise, obsessiveness (both), worship, let me know if i missed any!

wc: 3.5k

 —

leon’s hands wrap around your waist as he sighs into the kiss, interlocking behind your back. a part of you wonders if this is his way of telling you all the things he doesn’t want to or can’t say out loud. does wrapping his arms around you (trapping you for all intents and purposes) translate to something like ‘please don’t leave me’? you think you might be right because he seems nervous, and he’s never nervous when kissing you. kissing you makes him not nervous. he’s not shy like he used to be.

he was, once upon a time, when he was a rookie and when he was young and fragile and innocent. maybe then he would have blushed and felt nervous when you kissed him. he likes to think he’s matured since then. that may not be incredibly accurate.

he thinks he’s changed, but you seem to believe that deep down, he’s still that soft, fragile person. maybe you’re right. maybe he hasn’t changed at all.

your lips start to slip away from his, moving towards his neck as you use your hand to hold his jaw exactly how you want, manipulating him into just the right position for whatever you plan to do with him. your other hand is wrapped around him, gripping his shoulder for stability. part of him is glad you find stability in him, that he’s provided something of use to you.

sometimes he worries he plays too much of a passive role in your relationship, he thinks about all the expectations he has of himself and how he thinks he should act around you.

….but then again, no one who’s upset about having to do everything, enjoys doing everything as thoroughly as you do. he decided that you just prefer giving, leaving hickeys and touching all over him. you crave reactions, whether verbal or physical. you want to see an effect, the effect you have. so he shows you the effect you have on him. he sometimes feels his life purpose is giving you everything you want. 

your lips touch the sweet skin of his neck, but your sharp teeth puncture it. he hisses, body tensing in an almost comfortable sensation of pain.

something deep inside of his soul is mournful at the idea that he has only been able to find comfort in the burning, aching, stabbing, searing sensations that come with pain, because they’re familiar and numbing. only those things bring him back to baseline: moderately miserable.

and yet, he finds himself even more soothed by the way you’re sucking on the skin around the bite and leaving apologetic kisses behind in between. not that you should really have to apologize. leon certainly wasn’t in a place to be expecting apologies when he’s enjoying this so damn much.

plus the cherry on top was always you pulling back to admire your work, maybe even a drop of blood on the corner of your lip. you touch a finger to the sensitive skin, and he doesn’t give a verbal reaction, but he felt it, noticing how tender he’s becoming under your control.

“i think you could stand to have a couple more love bites, don’t you?” you ask him, but it’s obvious how you feel. you’re not really asking him because you want his input, you know his answer.

and he does, because under his tall, dark persona, he is a fragile mess of a man and he’s painfully infatuated with you.

“yeah…” he groans, your hand resting on his neck is distracting at best and dizzying at worst. part of him is screaming at you to just tighten your grip. he thinks it would be super hot if you were just a little bit meaner to him. 

“leon,” you whisper in his ear, unintentionally bringing him back to reality.

“yeah?” he responds back, just as low as you. he’s not nervous; he’s never nervous around you, but something in his voice feels.. smaller than usual.

you choose not to push. not now.

“i love you,” you tell him, “thought you might want a reminder, just in case you forgot.”

“i’m not that forgetful,” he laughs, but you see the smile on his face. he never really has a big smile, usually just a faint smirk or a small grin, “i love you.” he says, emphasizing the word ‘you’.

you’ve always known of your feelings for leon. they hit you fast and hard and immediately, like every moment spent in his presence was accompanied by thousands of butterflies aching in your stomach. loving him is an ache in your chest that never quite goes away.,

leon describes his feelings towards you differently. he doesn’t love hard, he loves deeply. him falling for you was a slow maneuver, a quiet and calm descent into a form of madness. he loves from behind the scenes, caring endlessly, but it’s not loud or in your face.

your love is infatuation and ache, his love is protection and devotion. you both love differently but not any more or less.

his love is expressed in how he holds you, hands shifting from being interlocked behind your back to holding onto your hips. translating this moment gives you the impression he’s saying ‘if you don’t do something to me in the next 10 seconds, i’m gonna go insane’.

he groans impatiently as you run your hands across his chest. you almost can’t believe how good you’ve gotten at reading him. although, you can’t take all the credit; he doesn’t exactly make it difficult.

“you’re so easy to rile up,” you say to him with a giggle, a teasing tone laced in your voice. he eats it up, as usual.

he lets out a deep and pathetic groan, “god, you-” one of his fists balls up, pulling away for just a second. he’s slowly unwinding, slowly losing self control.

it was exactly what you wanted. right from the moment you met him, you wanted leon fucking obsessed with you. it was the only way to create some kind of balance in a relationship in which one person was painfully infatuated and one person was (seemingly) unaffected. you wanted him to spend every moment of every day thinking about you, wanting you. that would only make it fair to you, considering how every thought is about him.

turns out the universe gave you exactly what you wanted because leon is everything you crave and so much more. sure, it’s miserable when he has to leave, but he comes back so desperate for you, with maybe millimeters of self control left in his body. he graciously give you a few seconds to recognize what’s happening before he presses the most hasty and desiring kisses to your lips with his hands grasping for anything he can get them on.

in short: he’s obsessed. just how you like him.

even looking at himself now, he notices all the little physical effects of you. the rope burns on his wrists, the bruises from your mouth on his neck, collarbone, thighs, fucking everywhere. he’s almost nervous for when he has a full week off and you take the opportunity to consume him completely.

“what do you wanna do?” you ask, softly. this time it’s a genuine question. he seems kind of out-of-it and you don’t want to push him further than he should go right now.

“can… can you- uh, well, what do you want me to do?”

you shake your head, almost disappointed but not surprised, “no, don’t do that, you know i don’t like that,” you say, hands resting on his waist, fingers brushing against the cotton material of his t-shirt.

what exactly did you not like? him deferring to what you want? not voicing his wants or needs? him trying so damn hard to cater to you? you berate yourself for the harshness of your words as he stands before you, silent but with soft, inquisitive eyes.

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing an apologetic kiss to his lips that he accepts gladly, pulling away just to whisper, “tell me what you want. i’ll give you anything.”

“want you,” he whispers back, but it’s so obvious that you could roll your eyes, “maybe i could.. give you head?”

“yeah?” you groan at the thought of the image of putting him on his knees, pulling his long hair as he gladly puts his mouth to better use. you’d call him a desperate and pathetic mess and he’d adore it, groaning and whimpering against you, begging and pleading for something he’s not quite sure of. maybe he’ll notice the bruises on his knees when he showers in the morning. a nice little surprise for tomorrow.

“can tell you like that idea by that look on your face,” he grins, and you wonder if he can read you just as well as you can read him. you bring a hand up to his jaw, caressing the sweet skin with your thumb, and he hums.

his fingers dance impatiently along your sides as you get lost in your internal fantasy and briefly forgetting the man in front of you.

“hey, if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold,” he jokes, and you hate that you laughed at one of his corny one-liners again.

you pull at the edges of his t-shirt, not moving to take it off (you’re certain you don’t have time to do everything you want to him right now, gotta save that for another time) but instead just rest your hands on his bare waist, leaning closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder, and closing your eyes. you inhale his scent in and really take in the moment with him, fleeting and innocent. he’s here. he’s here with you and not out somewhere saving the world.

that’s probably leon’s biggest weakness: his goodness. he’s always caring, always helping, always trying so fucking hard. screw saving the world, you care that he makes it home safe to you. he’s learned to be less reckless only at your request.

“get on your knees,” you say, suddenly, shockingly. leon was clearly in some other universe when you spoke those words to him, judging by him jumping a bit at your sudden command. it’s not one he hesitates to give in to, because he takes a small step back and falls to his knees immediately. 

you discard your pants and underwear, throwing them to some unimportant corner of the room. you get up close to him, so close that if he just leaned in a little more, he could taste you. but he’s learned that while you wouldn’t stop him nor say anything if he moved to devour you then and there, there’s something else you like more. if he holds back and begs for it, for you, for you to use him to get yourself off without any regards for him or his pleasure (he could get off just watching you cum but that’s besides the point), you’d go crazy. he likes you crazy. 

oh, the look you’d give him. he can picture it. you’d roll your eyes to the side, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. he loves to watch you lose yourself in the fantasy that builds in your head, the intense power trip you get is so plainly displayed on your face.

he loves it. loves watching you lose your cool, slipping from funny and goofy and sarcastic to fiery and dominant and uncontrollable. it’s like all those fantasy books that describe eyes getting darker with desire, that would be you. he sees how badly you crave him. serves you fucking right for taking up so much space in his head.

“use me,” he groans, and you silently caress his face with your hand, letting your thumb drag against his lips, pulling the bottom one down slightly before retreating.

“yeah?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. so long and pretty, so perfect for pulling.

the motion had stunned him briefly, but his confidence returns just after, “use me and grind against my face, pull my hair so i cry out in pain for you,” he knows you like that, given by the weakness on your face. you’re cracking. he’s got you, “take what you want from me, and leave me a desperate mess. please.”

the voice crack he lets out when pleading for you wasn’t intentional, but not unwelcome, because you really seem to like it.

there it is. the look.

your eyes roll to the side before centering on him, darkening just as he imagined.

“fuck, babe,” you groan, your voice raspy as your head fills with possible images of him, but you stop yourself from daydreaming. not when leon was right in front of you, begging you to be selfish and take what you want from him. so, you let yourself be selfish.

your fingers in his hair grasp tightly at the strands, and he gasps before being thrust between your legs.

“you’re such a fucking slut, baby, god- i love it,” you say as he gets right to work, lapping up the juices of your wet pussy with vigor and brushing his nose against your clit. your legs give out for a second, but he grips your thighs to steady you. even in this high of being between your legs, he’s still looking out for you, as always.

something in his stomach burns when you say that word. s-l-u-t. his ego hates it because it couldn’t be further from the truth. if anything he was just a little promiscuous. who was that really hurting?

but his dick apparently loves it when he’s being degraded, because he feels it twitch in his pants.

he moans while eating you out, intentionally most of the time, because 1) you like it when he’s vocal and 2) the vibrations of his voice against you feel immensely good. but the whimpers are never intentional. you pull especially tightly on his blonde hair, and he cries out in a temporary pain.

he thinks he likes servicing you more than you doing anything for him because it makes him feel useful to you, and it’s easier to let himself be loved when he can justify it to himself. it may not be the healthiest way to go about his relationship but nothing compares to the high of being called your-

“good, good fucking boy, leon, shit-” you gasp, eyebrows furrowing as you close your eyes, grip on his hair tightening, “let me go real quick, i need to be laying down for this.” he does and you stumble backwards into his bed. if you wouldn’t slap it off his face, he’d smirk at how affected you seem already. instead, he just internalizes your praise, letting it stick to him and hoping it never leaves, “well? what are you waiting for? come finish what you started.”

he stands to walk over, kneeling down again by the edge of the bed and leaning his head down back to your pussy, picking up where he left off. except this time your legs are wrapped around his head.he thinks he could die here and die happy. 

“god, leon, fuck,” you mutter, briefly wondering if he was actually the god you were calling out to, if he was the answer to all of your prayers towards the universe. if the horrors you had to face was the price to pay for a god to be worshiping you on his knees, a literal god, then it would have been worth it ten times over.

you muse over what kind of god leon would be. in his infinite goodness, perhaps he’d have been a merciful, kind god, granting serenity and happiness wherever he touched. which was ironic, considering he didn’t ever touch those emotions with his own hands, unless yours was holding his.

he works silently, but tirelessly, feeling himself get fatigued but pushing past the feeling until you tell him to stop. you use your grip on his hair to manipulate his mouth to exactly where you need it.

“you’re so good, so fucking good to me,” you say, playing with the shorter hairs at the base of his neck, then dragging your nails against his neck and scalp.

even though the gesture is not a foreign one, you physically feel him shiver and twitch beneath your hands. he curses under his breath.

talk about a fucking power trip. how were you not supposed to be a narcissist when leon crumbled beneath you at the simplest things?

“you-! fuck, use your teeth, baby. don’t be gentle,” you tell him. he does like hurting you, but he still does it, begrudgingly loving the desperate sounds you make. you cry out, readjusting your tight grip on his hair, and he can’t stop his hand coming up to your outer thigh, resting gently, reassuringly, and apologetically. isn’t it funny that he did what you told him to and yet he’s trying to apologize?

“leon,” you catch his attention, and he worries you’re about to tell him to remove his hand. he would, but it would sadden him, “make me cum,” you order, and that’s more his speed. a command. a mission. something he can fulfill a purpose with, something quantifiable for him to use to justify to himself that he deserves you.

so he sets out to complete that mission. he fucks you with his tongue, breathing heavy and nose rubbing against your clit rhythmically. his hand on your leg doesn’t move, still gentle and he even uses his thumb to caress the skin of your thigh. he’s copying your chosen method of comfort, like how you did when you gently held his jaw, soothing him with your touch on his cheek.

while leon is your god, you are his. he worships the ground you walk on, abiding to your will, giving in to you. you would never (because what has he ever done in his life to deserve it?) but you could walk all over him and he’d grin and bear it. he’d take it. even enjoy being of use to you.

he looks up at you, angel eyes as always. sometimes you forget that behind his harsh features, like his furrowed eyebrows and usual frown, his eyes are the softest, lightest blue. like the calm waters that lure you into a false sense of security. he could be a siren, luring you in for the kill, and you’d let him do it.

you look down at him, power and dominance exuding out of you. leon crumbles under the intensity of your gaze, breath hitching as he gives you his all, because he always is. when is he not giving you his everything? you could ask him to rip his heart out of his chest for you. and, ironically, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

he pushes you over the edge, and you feel it hit you like the waves of the waters of his eyes, the oceans that surround you when he’s near, drowning you in his touch and fire and soul. it envelops you, the warmth spreading throughout your body as you grind against his face, intent on getting the most out of one measly orgasm as possible. he lets you use him, because using him means you want him and need him and that’s all he could ever ask, ever crave.

you let go of him, the force pushing him back sitting on his heels. you motion for him to get up and lay with you with your hand, and he follows. you feel his strong arms hold you close and your bodies collide into one. you look at him, his lips swollen and the wetness of your orgasm covers his chin and nose, but he licks it off of his lips, making an erotic amount of eye contact.

“you don’t have to go,” you whisper to him, voice suddenly softer than before. you wish, considering how good he was at listening to you most of the time, that he conceded. he doesn't.

but he does. he has a few precious hours left before he has to leave. he doesn’t want to, but he knows better than to go against the people that threaten the lives of those he holds dear. he thinks about sherry for a moment. he thinks about claire, and ada, and you. 

he has to go. and he has to come back. for you. he never used to care whether or not he made it out alive during missions, but now that he knows you’re waiting patiently for him, he can’t ever let you down, ever let you feel that pain.

he won’t leave. not permanently, at least. 

#sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 remake #sub leon kennedy smut #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #re4 smut #re4 #re2 leon #re4 leon

[jungkooksrealgirlfriend]

Eggs Breakfast 🍳🫦

🥚pairing: jungkook x fem reader

🥚word count: 3.5k

🥚genre: really filthy smut 😭

🥚summary: while cooking breakfast for jungkook one morning, his mind cracks an idea. what if he were the one making the scrambled eggs today?

🥚warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex, anal sex, food play, fingering, explicit language, oral sex, dirty talk, creampie, crack (🤣🍳) fic, idfk what else but this shit is dirty  

🥚disclaimer (with the notion that only a small group of my friends will read this): i am not a writer by any means and i just wrote this for fun because my friend requested a fic based on an inside joke our friend group has and i wanted to take a crack (pun intended) at it. for that reason, i apologize if certain things don’t make sense. it’s also got other random inside jokes sprinkled in so if something seems weirdly mentioned, random, or goofy then that’s probably why. also, i did write this the best i could but it’s also a joke fic so don’t take it seriously. and no, i don’t have a kink of jungkook fucking eggs into my booty hole 😭💀 but if any of u do i don’t kink shame and i hope u enjoy fr 🤝 and to my friends DON’T FUCKING ROAST ME LMFAOAOAOO i wrote this out of the kindness in my heart for a friend who was in (really) desperate need. also!! i am a tumblr noob and don’t know much about formatting, but i’ve found this is easier to read when it’s not on my xxx.tumblr.com page but instead on the normal tumblr.com/xxx page (at the time of posting this in dec 2022) because the spacing doesn’t carry over for some reason? bro idk if it’s the theme i chose or it’s something fixable on tumblr but like i said i’m not a writer nor tumblr savvy 💀 so bear with me

Jungkook leans on the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you standing across from him, back turned his way. He hated the way his cock stirred in his sweats at the sight of you cooking breakfast in those sleeping shorts you liked to wear. If it wasn’t your exposed legs that got him going, it was definitely the way half your ass was peeking out from under the cloth.

Yet you simply continued your activities, being none the wiser to the man standing behind you. You reached for the carton of fresh eggs sitting on the counter, grabbing one before cracking it into the pan. You didn't need to ask Jungkook how he liked his eggs in the morning, because after being in a three year long relationship, you knew all too well that he preferred them over easy, just as he knew you preferred yours scrambled and with ketchup.

He also knew that you preferred iced coffee over hot coffee, and that you liked warmer weather over colder weather. But one of his favorite things he knew about you was how you were ever so willing to try new things, whether that be hesitantly tasting a new food at his favorite restaurant or agreeing to try something crazy in the bedroom.

You two were no strangers to spicing it up during naughty time, and you both have always been open and communicated about the things you’ve wanted to try. That thought alone caused Jungkook’s mind to wander, truly wondering if you really were willing to try anything at all. Because the sight of you in those shorts, cracking eggs into a pan set his imagination on fire.

He gingerly pushes himself off the counter and walks towards you, arms swaying briefly at his sides before he pushes himself against your back and snakes his hands around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. You giggle, flipping the egg in the pan. 

“Getting impatient? It’s almost done, baby.”

“I think I’m hungry for something else now,” he rasps out, morning voice still present as he pushes his clothed dick against your ass. “Don’t know how you expect me to behave when you're leaving little to the imagination.”

At that you smirk, and Jungkook thinks maybe you did it on purpose to get a rise out of him. His suspicion turns out to be true when you turn off the stove, slide his egg onto a plate, and turn around with a look in your eyes that he knows all too well. 

“But baby,” you say, feigning innocence as you travel your hand up his exposed chest, “don’t you want to eat your breakfast? It’s over easy, just how you like it. And eggs are good for stamina.” you tease.

“You’re a little motherfucking stinker,” he snickers. “I want you to know that.”

“Hmmm, am I?” you muse, “You’re the one talking nonsense at 9 in the morning. Maybe you’re the motherfucking stinker.”

There is no serious weight to either of your words at the obvious joke, yet he still clenches his jaw and moves his face only inches from yours, eyes meeting eyes. 

He lets out a small breath, “You’re going to regret saying that. You have no idea what I wanna do to you right now.”

You can’t help but laugh, not missing the lustful glint in his eyes. You love the back and forth that often happens between you two. It causes your stomach to bubble with anticipation because it doesn’t take long for him to get you wet and in the mood. 

“I never regret anything.”

“Oh baby,” he rests his forehead against yours, “you will this time.”

Suddenly you’re pulled from your spot of being pinned against the stove and are shoved front-forward against the breakfast bar, hands sprawled out on the granite countertop. You can’t help but smile like an idiot because pushing his buttons is your favorite thing to do, and what tends to follow soon after leaves you breathless.

You feel him slide his hands up and down your sides, this action alone sending shivers through your spine. But when he begins to push you down onto the counter with his naked chest against your back, hands following down your arms and intertwining with your own, you find yourself holding your breath before your cheek meets the cold surface with hands on either side of your head.

He’s almost laying on top of you, squishing your body between his own and the breakfast bar. You can only imagine how erotic the scene must look and you wish you had a mirror nearby so you could look into it and see how his body fit against yours like a puzzle piece. You feel his now fully hard dick poking your ass, his chest against your back, and his hands on top of yours. You feel him everywhere, yet not in the places you’re craving him the most right now. 

He leans down to your ear and nibbles on it. “I’m not going to be nice this time. I know you did all this to intentionally provoke me. Is this fun for you?” he chuckles, “Pushing my buttons to get me riled up?”

His voice comes out raspier than you expect and it sends a shiver throughout your whole body causing you to rub your thighs together. He cocks his head to the side a bit, eyes meeting yours and you know he’s waiting for an answer, so you nod your head and smirk up at him. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking hot.”

This causes him to smirk back at you as he licks his bottom lip. You slightly lift your head and allow your eyes to follow the movement before looking back up into his own in an unspoken request. He understands what you want and grants your wish by connecting your lips together.

This kiss is rough and needy, but his lips feel so good against yours that you moan in satisfaction. Bodies on fire, tongues dancing together, and with the need to feel more you push your ass harder against his length in an attempt to gain some friction earning a grunt from the man who, of course, isn’t wearing any underwear. 

Jungkook, knowing you better than you know yourself, grants you your silent plea as he begins to grind your covered heat with his knee. He grinds, and grinds. You feel your adrenaline pick up and you can’t take it anymore. 

“Jungkook,” you gasp out, “need to feel you.”

He chuckles before pulling away, pushing himself off your back and leaving you flat against the counter. His breathing is heavy as he lifts his tattooed arm to brush his hair back, his other arm grabbing firm hold of your waist. Your eyes drop to his abs as they flex at the action, and you swear you could hear purring at this point because of how much your pussy gushed with anticipation. 

He shakes his head, “Look at you, begging for my cock. Is this what you wanted all along? For me to bend you over the counter and fuck you so well like you know I can?”

His voice was low and sultry and fuck, he sounded so hot it made you automatically clench around nothing. He always knew what to say to make your knees weak. 

“Yes” you say, voice coming out whinier than you expected. “Need you so bad right now, baby.”

He knew you went crazy over his dirty words, and you knew he went crazy when you begged for him. 

“Then spread your legs for me, love.”

He tucks his fingers under your waistband slowly tugging them down your legs along with your panties that were now soaked with your arousal. You felt the cold air hit your core and you let out a shaky breath, stepping out of the two articles of clothing once they were by your ankles. 

Without waiting for instruction, you momentarily lift yourself off of the counter to pull your shirt over your head, being left completely nude and vulnerable to Jungkook’s eyes. However, you didn’t feel embarrassed or insecure. You felt the opposite actually, since Jungkook always made you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world who had the sexiest body, and he often showed you how much he loved it.

Laying back down on the counter, Jungkook places his hands back on your now naked waist, kicking your legs open with his own, wide enough for him to stand in between. He slides his long fingers through your slick folds causing you to quickly shut your eyes and moan at the contact. The combination of his fingers and the cold counter underneath your bare chest makes you shiver and you spread your legs even wider.

Jungkook snickers and retrieves his fingers, earning a protesting whine from you. Sneaking a glance back, you see him pulling his gray sweats down his hips, letting them fall to his ankles before he steps out of them and kicks them somewhere to the side along with your clothes too. 

Seeing his bare dick practically makes your mouth water and you wish you could drop to your knees and pleasure him, however his hold on you is tight and you know whatever he has planned will please both of you. 

Momentarily locking eyes with him, you both smirk at each other before you lay your cheek back on the surface, eagerly awaiting him to part your folds. However, the intrusion doesn’t come and you instead feel him lean to reach for something. Once again, you lift your head to look over your shoulder, seeing him grab an egg from the open carton you left by the stove.

“Jungkook… what are you doing?” you question.

He returns to his previous position, egg in hand and knowing smirk on his face. Your eyes move between the egg and his eyes, until he leans down, nose almost touching yours. You can feel his warm breath on your face and the close proximity makes you clench again. He’s staring deep into your eyes and you feel like he’s staring straight into your soul.

“I’m going to crack this egg into your ass and fuck you so hard that I scramble it. Then, I’m gonna enjoy my breakfast.”

You tense at his words. He wants to what? The idea sounds crazy but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t considering it, imagining him fucking you, using the slippery egg as your lube until you’re screaming his name. However, you’re hesitant because this is new territory for the both of you.

“You’re joking right? You can’t be serious about that. About fucking it in my ass. About… scrambling it.” you question.

Was he joking? Jungkook didn’t know. He was sure that the heat radiating off your bodies was enough to fry an egg, so why not scramble it?

“You should know more than anyone when I am and am not fucking around.” he rasps out.

You gulp, getting more turned on by his words. Were you really about to let him crack an egg in your booty hole? In other circumstances you’d probably laugh in his face and tell him he’s being ridiculous, but in this moment the raw sex appeal he’s radiating has you considering it. Really considering it.

Staring back into his eyes you slowly nod your head, your lips slightly turning upwards. 

“Okay big boy. Show me exactly what you mean. Show me how well you can fuck me with that egg.”

At this he backs away and stands tall, smirking to himself before he takes a deep breath. 

“Spread yourself for me.” he commands.

You lay your cheek on the counter and reach behind you, grabbing your ass and spreading it open.

Jungkook knew in order for the egg to make it into your hole he was going to have to stretch you out, so he took his his index and middle fingers and began rubbing them through your folds to gather some of your arousal. 

The touch came as a shock to you and you jerked forward, mewling at the feeling. His fingers felt so good and you thought if he kept on you would’ve came before he even entered you. 

He continues to gather your slick and moves it to your ass, rubbing it over your puckered hole to allow for easier penetration. 

He begins to push one finger in, a deep moan ripping out of your throat. He used his other hand to caress the small of your back as he kept slowly pushing in until he was a knuckle deep. He then slowly pulled out, repeating the process until he was pumping you. The pace wasn’t anything drastic, and the feel of his single finger was definitely not enough for you to reach your high, but that didn’t stop the quiet whimpers that escaped your lips.

After deciding you needed more, you pushed your ass back and he took that as a sign to add a second finger, fingering you faster and deeper than before. 

With each pump, you moaned out at the feeling, cursing under your breath when he adds a third finger. Jungkook wanted to make sure you were stretched enough, so he took his time, gradually quickening his pace. 

All that could be heard in the tiny kitchen was your whimpers and the soft wet sounds of your arousal coating his fingers. 

Suddenly his fingers were gone from your hole and you felt like crying, missing his touch already. A moment passes before you hear the sound of him cracking the egg onto the counter with enough force for the shell to break but not enough for anything to leak out. 

Your body felt like it was on fire, your hair sticking to your forehead and you were sure Jungkook’s was doing the same. You could hardly think at this moment, barely registering the words that came from his mouth.

“You ready?” he asks, licking his lips.

You immediately nodded, eager to feel anything. 

But you knew Jungkook needed to hear you voice it, so you whispered out a small “Please.”

“So needy.” he mumbles as he slightly lowers down and uses both hands to begin opening the egg, watching as the clear mucus begins to seep into your hole as you still hold your ass open.

The feeling was strange, but not unwelcome. The egg was cold, but not cold enough to feel uncomfortable. Instead, the feeling made you tense and shiver with anticipation, and the thought of Jungkook fucking it into you was the only thing on your mind right now.

He opened it wider, watching as the remainder of egg was sucked into your hole. “I’m glad this went over easy.” he amusingly remarks. 

“Fuck you,” you curse, irritation hinting because of how impatient you were. Was he really making puns right now?

“You’re about to,” he smirks, pushing two fingers into your hole to spread the egg. It’s slick and if even possible, it turns him on more, especially from the way you jerk forward and loudly moan. 

However, he’s brief and removes his egg-slicked fingers to take his dick into his hand, groaning at the feeling of giving himself a few pumps, coating it with a thin layer of egg white. He grabs your waist before he situates himself at your back entrance, pausing for a second before he begins to push himself in.

He was easily able to bottom out, the slimy texture of the egg being the clear reason for that. He barely gives you any time to adjust before he pulls out and slams his hips forward all over again.

You moan uncontrollably, mouth agape in pleasure and eyes tightly shut. He was pumping in and out of you with ease, further coating his dick with your arousal and the egg that was now surely beginning to froth inside your body the quicker his pace became. 

The slick sounds and the way his balls slapped against your pussy made your head spin, and Jungkook was surely enjoying this just as much as you were from the way his head was tilted back and he was groaning, hands holding your hips so tight that you were sure there would be bruises later.

“Fuck!” you screamed out, tears beginning to prick your eyes as your moans began to mix with sobs at how fucking good it felt. The temperature of the egg in your body was now matching your own, a contrast to the cold plated eggs you had cooked earlier that were long forgotten on the counter.

“Jungkook,” you stuttered out, “so…so good” you sobbed. 

Hearing you sound so vulnerable, saying his name while he was balls deep inside of you made his cock twitch and a moan escape his lips. He loved you so much and would do anything for you. He would get on his hands and knees and wash your feet as Jesus did for Judas, simply doing it out of his love and obsession for you.

You felt your stomach begin to tighten, a sign that you were close to your high. Jungkook was close too, but he wanted you to cum first so he let go of your hip with one of his hands and began to circle your sensitive bud as you shuddered underneath him. He then moved his fingers from your clit to your entrance, pushing in and pumping his fingers fast.

“I am go-go-go-gonna cum.” you stutter, seemingly not able to even say that simple sentence as you screw your eyes shut tighter.

The combination of his dick pumping in your ass and his fingers in your cunt brings a whole new wave of pleasure. You feel so full of him and without warning, you tense and feel the knot snap in your stomach as you cum on his fingers and uncontrollably clench around them. Your ass convulses as you’re clenching hard around his dick, seeming to involuntarily suck it in deeper with ease pulse. 

Your entire body tingles as you let out a guttoral moan and say his name over and over like a chant. Tears are rolling down your cheeks as you begin to feel the start of overstimulation.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, removing his fingers from your cunt before he shoves them into your mouth and uses his other hand to hold you down by your neck, the pressure making your eyes roll back into your head as you suck his fingers and taste yourself, moaning as you do.

He then starts pumping at an even more animalistic pace than before, trying to reach his own high as you start whimpering from the overstimulation. 

“I know baby, I know.” he soothes, keeping the same pace before his hips begin stuttering and he cums inside your ass, a loud moan ripping from his throat as well.

He doesn’t move, you both breathing heavily as he curses and lays his head on your back, intertwining his hands with your own. You feel content at having just been properly fucked and could really go for a shower right now.

However, he’s not done as he gives you a final pump, further mixing his semen with the raw egg before he removes his softening cock, crouches down, and lifts you up higher by your thighs. 

You’re too fucked out to immediately react, but you widen your eyes when you realize what he’s about to do.

He licks a stripe through your pussy, tasting your arousal on his tongue. “You taste so fucking good.” he moans.

“What are you doing?” you question, using the little strength you have left to look behind you, meeting his eyes. 

He can see the look in your eyes, see you’re surprised because you know what he’s about to do. So he smirks. That fucker smirks. 

“I’m about to enjoy my breakfast.”

He takes his two fingers and gathers up the cum and egg dripping out of your hole, shoving it back in and pumping a few times before removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. 

You gasp out, not believing he was actually eating your ass hole right after fucking an egg into you.

“Mmmm,” he hums into your backside. 

Uncontrollable moans leave your mouth as he licks you clean, standing up shortly after and lightly slapping your ass.

You stand up, legs wobbly, and you have to grib the edge of the breakfast bar to stop your knees from giving out. 

Jungkook felt good seeing you like this, knowing he was the cause and reason. It boosted his ego and he felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

“You’re nasty as shit,” you spit, turning around to face him while your hands still gripped the counter. However, you had a smirk on your lips showing Jungkook that you didn’t really mean it.

He chuckles, giving you a raise of his eyebrow.

“Well you didn’t seem to think so when you were begging for me to touch you.”

You roll your eyes, “You know that I love the way you fuck me.”

He walks up to you, hands sliding over your arms leaving goosebumps on your skin. He looks down at you and you look up, staring into each other’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind having my breakfast like that again in the future,” he smirks, “because I think scrambled eggs just became my new favorite.”

#fanfic #bts #btssmut #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkooksmut #egg #eggs #crack fic #bts au #smut

[abiiors]

corruption ❤️‍🔥 // matty healy x reader

a/n: not entirely happy with this idk why. had to edit the original snippet to fit better into the context?? but ugh yeah hope you enjoy. there's a very real possibility that this might be deleted later cw: overstimulation, ass play if you squint really really hard, fingering, slight cumplay, mean matty and degradation, oral, gets a bit sweet in the end because it is me afterall wc: 3.5k

the office is in disarray. people running around, files and folders stacked tall in their hands as a nervous hush settles over the entire building. when your phone dings with his message that night, you know you’re in for it. well, you’ve known that since you watched the live debate really. 

matty is livid. 

it’s not that he lost, it’s that he managed to scrape through barely and he is not a man who does things barely. 

you could see it so clearly even through the large plasma tv screen in the party offices—the way his mouth was pressed in a tight line. and how when he did smile, it never reached his eyes. instead all you could see in them was cold anger. 

tomorrow your boss might get fired for this but tonight it’s you and your sanity that’s on the line.

the message glares at you through your phone screen – 8 pm. 1205. the grand. 

you don’t type a response to it because it doesn’t need one. he’s not asking, he’s ordering. involuntarily, you clench your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. tonight is going to be rough, you don’t need to anger him more by being late. so you quickly pack your bag and run out of the offices to hail a cab. 

7:57. that’s when you find yourself outside of his hotel room, your heart thudding in your chest, panties soaked through from all the scenarios you couldn’t stop repeating in your head—his hands gripping the mic, the podium, knuckles so white. maybe you could ask him to grip your throat like that tonight. 

you lift your hand up, shaky and fidgety, about to knock just as someone grabs you by the waist, pushing you against the door. you open your mouth to yelp but matty’s already turning you around, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss. 

sharp teeth clashing against soft lips—his fingers dig into your waist, wrinkling the cotton shirt tucked into your figure-hugging skirt. it takes him only a second a untuck it. another to push his hands inside and rub his thumb over your peaked nipples. 

his hair is askew—not so neatly combed as it was on tv—as if he’s been running his hand through it in frustration. his suit jacket has already been discarded somewhere, white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing veins and a few scattered tattoos. 

“my obidient little slut,” he grunts against your neck, mouth already sucking on your sweet spot. you squirm against his touch, nervous that someone might walk in on you. and oh, what a scandal that would be…

“relax…” he breathes. behind you the door clicks open. “we have the whole floor to ourselves. need to hear you scream my name tonight.”

you get lost in his words and forget to breathe, to nod. he’s pushing you back against the wall, fumbling against your shirt buttons until he gets so frustrated, he rips it off you. the buttons go flying everywhere, clinking a few times before the room is filled with your gasps once again. 

“be my good little pet tonight, won’t you?” his words are murmured against your clevage. you nod on autopilot. his good little pet. yes. 

“words…” he warns. 

“yes, s–sir,” you gasp out, somehow managing to two little coherent words. and it’s good enough for him. 

matty pulls away, almost making you stumble and lose your balance but the wall holds you up. “on the bed,” he commands. his hands are at his throat, loosening his dark blue tie. the soft silk looks inviting, promising. so you walk up to the bed on shaky legs, watching his every move and how he slowly takes the tie off, taking his time to smoothen every little crease on it. 

“on your stomach, pet,” he commands again, less patient this time. “ass up.”

the two words are enough to make you whimper. you know what’s about to come. the man in front of you has a penchant for ruthlessness. especially when things don’t go his way. and yet the fear in your body feels more like excitement, the ache between your legs superseding every other need, as you lie there for him exactly how he’s asked—face smushed the soft pillows, ass up and your still-clothed pussy in his view, for him to use and abuse as he pleases. 

you know your skirt has ridden up enough that he can see the red thong you’re wearing, perhaps even the damp spot on it. 

“you know why we’re here, sweetheart?” his voice comes from somewhere in the room. perhaps he’s moving, walking around and looking at you from all angles. you wouldn’t know, your eyes are already closed tight, bracing yourself. 

“because the debate—”

“didn’t go so well,” he finishes. suddenly, there’s a hand on your back, undoing the buckles on your bra with deft fingers until it falls off you and onto the bed. cool air brushes against warm skin and goosebumps erupt all over your body. but matty doesn’t stop there.

next him hand moves down to your ass, stroking it. and just when you think he’s about to spank, a tearing sound rips through the room—your tights, now on the floor in tatters. 

“and why didn’t it go well, pet?” he asks, a ghost of a touch against your inner thigh, moving up and up and making it difficult to focus on anything. “cat got your tongue?”

“because—” you whimper, unable to finish because his fingers slide your thong aside at that exact moment, collecting the wetness, brushing against your clit. 

“yes?”

“bec–fuck! um—”

“dumb little slut, aren’t you?” his voice carries a dangerous edge, matty is not to be trifled with tonight and yet you struggle to form a coherent sentence, stuttering the words like a bumbling idiot. “but i didn’t think you were a dumb little slut at work…”

“m’not!” you whine. this little secret aside, both you and he knows that when it comes to work, you’re diligent and focused as a shark, your ruthlessness rivaling that of his. except he’s the shining star. the sun around which everything else revolves.

matty’s hand is back on your thigh, tracing dizzying circles. “i told you i wanted your ideas, didn’t i?”

you swallow. 

that he did. explicitly. not once but twice. 

“and yet you disobeyed me, pet.”

another muffled sound of protest tears out of you but you know there’s no point in arguing with him. telling him that your boss rejected your ideas. you should have been more assertive, more dominating. but you weren’t. and now it’s time to face the music. 

“what should i do first, hmm?” his fingers are back at your entrance, neglecting your clit entirely and spreading your folds for him to see. 

reflexively you try to clench your thighs together, too embarrassed that you’re already so excited, practically dripping onto your thighs but matty is quicker. a sting blooms onto your ass cheek. 

“what did i warn you before, hmm?” you gasp into your pillow, still reeling from the spank, trying to remember his words. “be–be a good pet.”

“and what do good pets do?” you struggle to keep up with his words, too wrapped up with how animalistic his voice sounds, how it reverberates through your entire body. the air whooshes as his hand cuts through it. another spank. another yelp from you. 

“th–they listen.”

“good girl…” his hand caresses the spot again, soothing some of the sting before matty climbs onto the bed. the mattress dips, his fingers are back at your entrance, back to parting your folds and swiping through them lazily as if he has nowhere else to be. as if he has all the time in the world. 

this time you let him, desperately trying to hold yourself up on shaky limbs. 

without warning matty plunges two fingers in. 

“fuck!” it’s more a hiss than an actual word. your entire body zings from the sharpness of it, trying to adjust to the sudden thickness between your legs. matty let’s you breathe through it, gives you a reprieve of just a few seconds, before he’s moving them deeper. 

“colour?” 

“green. green!” 

he chuckles condescendingly, moving his hand and pumping his fingers faster. “so eager for me, such a slut.”

the ring on his middle finger touches your clit over and over again, the cold gem brushing against your heated core, making you hiss and cry. the orgasmic feeling builds deep inside you, slowly spreading through your entire body, taking you higher and higher with each pump for his fingers, each brush against your clit. 

“please mat–sir! please,” you cry out, sobbing almost a damp spot grown on the pillow. you want to cum, want to feel that euphoric high. 

“please what, pet?” he tsks.

“let me cum, please…” 

you expect him to deny it, expect him to turn this into a power play and watch you squirm under him and beg for a release. to your surprise, matty presses a thumb against your clit, uttering just one word—cum. it’s the shock that pushed you over the edge, legs spasming as you gush onto his hand, relishing the way he keeps fucking you through the orgasm, through your chants of oh my god…

and his fingers don’t stop moving. 

instead matty settles behind you, your ass raised up right in his face and presses his tongue against your core, sticking it inide and lapping up your release that has you squirming in place and crying out as the heat bubbles up inside you again. 

the tip of his nose presses between your asscheeks, making you yelp. it’s a new sensation… not one you’ve experienced before. matty only laughs at your reaction. 

“did i startle you, sweetheart?” he speaks right near your entrance, the vibrations from his words building up the familiar feeling once again.

“matty…” you whimper, not even caring that he wouldn’t like that. and his displeasure becomes evident a moment later when you feel a nip at the soft skin of you ass, teeth sinking into your flesh. 

“what are you good for, huh?” he growls, “need me to fuck you into being a good girl?”

“yes…fuck—” whatever you were about to say is cut of by his tongue sliding inside you again, thumb flicking roughly against your clit. with his other arm, matty holds you up, stops you from sinking onto the mattress entirely. 

his tongue and his thumb create a dizzying rhythm, altering pressure against your insides and on your clit until you’re cumming all over his tongue, practically on his face with his lips still attached to your entrace. matty takes it all, lapping up every last drop and holding you by your waist to keep you upright until you’re panting and sobbing, unable to handle the euphoria. 

you get a few moments to breathe in between, just a few seconds to pull yourself back together before his fingers are plunged inside you. the rhythm repeats, cold metal, wam skin, rough thumb, your body that jolts from his electric touches, matty who coaxes another orgasm out of you in minutes. this time his fingers form a v inside you, stretching you out more. 

it hurts at first as your body desperately tries to adjust to it. the sound of his fingers pumping in and out of your wet cunt is too much, the filthy, obscene squelching sounds, that he seems to get off on. 

you bite onto the pillow so hard that it rips. seconds later, matty’s laughter rings out in the room as he realises what you’ve done. 

“look at you, sweetheart,” he taunts, “so feral.” his fingers part inside you again until you are capable of nothing else but screaming his name over and over again, begging for just one more orgasm. another one and the you’ll be satisfied. just one. 

“please, sir,” matty mocks in a high pitched voice, an exaggerated pout on his face. it borders on cruelty. it’s a shame your body confuses humiliation for more pleasure. “made you cum multiple times, wasn’t it enough? greedy cockslut,” he spits. 

you know you’re close to cumming again, waiting for his permission. your body strains from the effort feeling too full. until his fingers slide in deeper and something clicks. 

“go on then,” he grunts again but you already are… 

wet hot liquid gushes all over his hand, practically drenching his face that’s so close to your cunt right as you cum—no, right as you squirt all over him. 

his arm’s not enough to hold you up this time. not that he tries to as you finally fall onto the mattress, trembling and breathing hard. a sharp intake of breath behind you tells you how astonished matty is. 

he recovers quickly, though, flipping you onto your back and then matty’s pulling you up and into his arms…

this is a first. not just the squirting but being held in his arms while you tremble from the aftershocks of the intense orgasm. 

“that was…” he is speechless, you realise. in all your time knowing him, he’s never been speechless. certainly never while stroking your hair after an orgam. 

“such a good little pet,” he mumbles into your hair. “what’s your colour, sweetheart?”

through the haze you try to make sense of what he’s saying. somewhere behind a fog, your mind knows the concept of colours, you know it and yet it takes you a full thirty seconds before you can answer him in a hoarse voice that you barely recognise as your own. 

“green.”

shakily, you try to fumble with his shirt buttons, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin on yours. you need to feel closer to him, to look at him while he’s buried deep inside you. even as you feel like you might float away if he lets go of you, you need him. more that before. 

“hey, hey, hey,” his big hand wraps around your wrist, still wet and sticky from your release but you don’t care. “what are you doing?”

“need you,” you whine. it’s desperate and pathetic. “please, just… need you—”

“fuck, sweetheart,” he curses against your hair, finally letting you undo all his shirt buttons with shaky and unsure hands. matty sits still, letting you take your time. “do you even know what you do to me?” 

you?? to him?? you want to ask if he knows what he does to you. how he has you thinking about him day and night, has you desperately seeking out your pillow on lonely nights, imagining it’s his hand between your thighs, his body weighing heavy on top of yours. 

“let me fuck you, baby.” for the first time, matty’s voice is gentle… the edge of it doesn’t go away though, it’s still there, even if it’s barely noticeable. “been so good for me today. just lie back down and let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

the words do something funny to your chest, make tingles spread all over your body and you wait for him, lying on your back and desperately clenching around nothing. 

“come back,” you whine, even when he’s hurrying to shed his clothes, to pull your skirt off of you. all in all it takes him a minute to be back between your legs, his hard cock pressed against you and making your hiss, but your body feels cold from the absence of his body heat. 

“my needy little thing,” he murmurs. even when he seems tender, his particular desire to torture you stays. 

matty doesn’t enter you just yet, still keeping his fingers on your clit, drawing figures of eight on it until your mind is floating, your body loose and completely malleable in his hands. you barely even have the energy to open your eyes and look at him, at his curls plastered to his forehead. 

“i ne–need you,” you cry out again, getting squirmy and desperate, writhing beneath his touch. he doesn’t oblige, he just keeps building up another orgasm in you. even when you’re getting too sensitive to his touch. 

“you’re my little toy, aren’t you?” his words keep falling onto your ears from all sides, nothing compared to the haze of ecstasy you’re in. “cum for me again, baby. just one more time and then i’m yours. then i’ll do whatever you want.”

you know better than to trust his promises. 

outside of this bedroom, his entire job hinges on his ability to get people to believe in his promises. to fall for his sweet words. 

and what had he called you before? a dumb little slut? because he might as well be right. 

within minutes you’re falling apart around his fingers again. you have no control of your body anymore, no control over your orgasms. all you can to is cling onto him, wrap your legs around his waist to keep him close. to keep holding onto the last thread of your sanity. 

“there you go,” he breathing onto your skin before you’re even done coming down from your high, sliding inside you before you can catch your breath. 

it’s maddening in the best of ways—to be so full of him that you forget about your own existence. 

“matty…”

“sound so sweet when you say my name like that, baby.” his voice comes from somewhere on top of you. he’s bottomed out now, hard and thick and filling you in so much more than his fingers did. 

the soft sheets of the bed rustle against your skin as he moves—slow at first and only ramping up at the pace when you nod at him and squeeze him between your legs. 

your long nails dig deep into his shoulders, sinking into his skin and leaving scratches all over his unmarred skin but you need to hold onto something. his cock hitting that spot deep inside you feels too good. his hips ramming into yours has you on the edge so much quicker that you can ever imagine. you aren’t going to last much longer and matty’s only just getting started. 

“look at you,” he tuts, “fucked dumb and practically drooling onto your chin. is that what my cock does to you, hmm?”

you nod like a puppet on a string. a whine builds deep in your chest and each of his movements has you clawing his back. matty takes it all—the pain from your sharp nails, you clenching tightly around him over and over again, squeezing his body between your thighs. 

his hips ram against yours, body tensing the more he moves, stomach muscles pulled taut. 

“fuck,” he grunts, “‘m close, sweetheart, gonna cum inside you, okay? gonna pump you full of my cum.”

“ye–yes, ‘m close too, shit, so–so—”

matty shushes, sparing you the effort of constructing an entire sentence. he’s twitching inside you, moving in an erratic rhythm. sweat drips off him and onto your chest. and it’s the one particularly hard thrust that gets you before you’re clenching around him tightly, cumming with everything left in you, dizzy and disoriented. 

that must have pushed him over the edge too because you feel something warm and thick filling you up, dripping down your thighs. his arms shake with the effort of holding him up on top of you but you’re too far gone to care. too far gone to even relish in the groans that echo around you. all you can do is quietly whimper his name and hold onto him tightly, to keep him inside you, close to you for as long as possible. 

exhaustion weighs on you like a tonne of bricks. if only you could close your eyes for a second…

“hey!” matty sharp voice jerks you out of your thought. 

“tired…” is all you manage to say. but a moment later he’s pulling out of you. the emptiness you feel has you whining softly, barely even paying attention as matty dips his mouth between your legs again. 

“lemme clean you up, pet,” he whispers, tongue already on your thigh, “been so good to me today, let me clean you up. then you can sleep.”

you’re fairly certain you give him a nod, writhing under him as matty proceeds to clean between your legs with his mouth, both yours and his release now coating his tongue. but you hiss in pain when his tongue makes contact with your clit again. your eyes well up. this time, they’re not tears of pleasure.  

you gather up all your strength or whatever’s left of it to clench your thighs shut. “yellow, matty, please… please.”

in an instant, he moves away, shushing you while stroking your head. “it’s done, baby, no more. i promise.” 

his voice sounds firm and you have a vague memory of the feeling of a wet cloth between your legs some time later. all you know is he’s there, pressing a glass of cold water to your lips, urging you to drink from it. all you remember is him ringing up room service to order some food. and then the feeling of being pulled into someone’s arms. 

lemme know what you think <33

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#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy smut #matty healy x y/n #mean politician matty #matty x reader #matty x you #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy au #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #minors do not interact

[marleyybluu]

Oh sista you ate baaaaad with Don Julio even tho we all know none of us needed liquor help when it comes to that man, I am wide open sober papacito ya tú sabes 🥵🤤

Don Julio 2

Best friends brother!Rio x f!black!OC (Honey)

Word count: 3.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut under your fingernails, p in v, creampie (bcus I have a serious problem atp), two dummies who think no one notices they’re into each other, a bit of flirting, oral (f receiving), we are in missionary today, Rio wears rings 🙃 :)

Lmk if I’m missing any idk I probably am

A/N: surprise, the Rio girlies get fed even though I don’t like this, some parts suck in my opinion but I hate everything I write so what’s new. Not proofread sorry

Suddenly she was so... aware of him, of every molecule and particle that created his form.  Now, she notices his hands and the copious amount of rings he wore, how large and wide his palms were and how slender and long his fingers suddenly seemed. She took a swig from her can of Twisted Tea as she sat around one of the tables in their family's backyard. She didn't want to be here, it was too weird for her, but it was his birthday party. She'd been to all of his parties since they were kids and she figured the lack of her presence would be obvious.

She kept her distance though, only saying 'Happy birthday' and 'Here's your gift' when she arrived about two hours ago and hadn't said anything else to him since. But she couldn't keep her eyes off of him, the fantasies of what could've possibly happened that night haunt he in a pleasant way, but she just adored him from afar. Paying extra attention to whom he was talking to.

Vera.

She's a beautiful woman, Honey could give her that, she is probably the same age as him too. She'd been around the neighbourhood long ago but moved and would once in a while return home to visit. She raised her eyebrows, her eyes narrow as she attempted to read Vera's lips to know what they were discussing but she couldn't make out anything, this weird pang in her chest— possibly a smidge of jealousy, was an unnecessary and stupid feeling. She sighs and shifts her eyes to Cherry who had seemingly been watching her the whole time. Honey smiles innocently as if she hadn't just been ogling her brother for ten minutes. Cherry nods to the house, letting Honey know to meet her inside.

Honey excused herself from the table and waltzed her way in through the back door that led straight into their big kitchen, a few family members-- mostly men, were inside the living room watching football. Cherry cleared her throat, her way of announcing she was in the room. Honey spun on her heels and beamed. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just need help bringing some more drinks out."

She shrugs and they both head down to the basement and to the wall where various boxes of liquor, both strong and light, were propped up. She reaches for the Corona's and the Smirnoff's able to hold one of each. "Can you believe Vera's here? I swear that woman gets prettier with age." Cherry states and there's that kink in her chest again. Honey nods, afraid that if she mutters anything she'll give away the jealousy but her friend continues with; "I wonder if they've been hooking up." She reaches for more Twisted Teas and two boxes of White Claw's mostly for her consumption. Honey swallows and looks at her shoes. "What makes you think that?"

She smirks. "I went into his room, just to steal one of his sweaters, and I saw something pink under his bed,"

Oh god.

"I didn't touch it but I'm assuming they were some panties."

One of the boxes slipped from Honey's hands and crashed to the floor, it popped open and all the cans of Twisted Tea rolled in their own directions. Cherry chuckled. "Are you good?"

"Yeah... yeah, I just— sorry." She stammered, she squats down to pick up those that fell in front of her while her friend grabbed the scattered ones. "Here, take this box and I'll hold some of the cans." She says and they switch. Honey feels like she can't even look her friend in the eye, her cheeks feeling warm and if she was any lighter she'd be as red as a stoplight. They head back upstairs where they meet the birthday boy in the kitchen with his head in the fridge. "What do you want now?" Cherry asks with fake annoyance. He pops up and straightens his posture just like he did when he was younger getting caught doing something bad. "Came lookin' for some more drinks." He says pointing to the boxes, his eyes locked with Honey's and she swore she lost her balance for a split second.

Her face only getting hotter, he was a continuous reminder of that Sunday morning. Cherry raised her eyebrows as her eyes played ping-pong between the two, the silence was awkward and making her uncomfortable. She'd never seen the two be this strange. She dropped the cans and the box of drinks onto the counter, hard enough that the sound would snap the two out of whatever unearthly trance this was. Honey and Rio broke their staring contest, eyes bouncing off in different directions. He helped the two put the drinks in the cooler, he had a spliff tucked behind his ear, and he took it down offering it to his sister. She dismisses him and says she has to find their father, so she leaves the two alone, Rio puts the spliff between his lips and cups the free end with his hand, with his other hand he flicks the lighter and the small flame transfers over to the paper, burning it along with the kush.

Honey just watches him from the corner of her eye when he looks up she darts her eyes forward and begins to sway from side to side. He looks over at her. "Still don't smoke?"

"I do," She lied. "Occasionally." She didn't know why she fibbed, she just did. He chuckles calling her bluff and in some strange urge to prove to her friends older that she is mature enough to smoke, she takes it from him and inhales, she holds it and chokes once before coughing embarrassingly loud. He chuckles and takes the spliff from her, he pats her back but it is no help as she continuously coughs. Now it's becoming concerning. He puts the (still) lit spliff behind his ear and ushers her back inside in hopes of getting her some water.

"I-I'm fine, I sw- cough- I swear."

"Yeah fucking right, mama." He coos grabbing her a bottle from the fridge making sure he opens it for her before handing it to her. Honey tips her head back as she downs the bottle in desperate relief. She comes up for air and sighs with contentment. "Better?" He asks.

"Mhm." She nods and suddenly realizes they're both alone. In the house. In the kitchen. Honey clears her throat and opens her palm, a silent way of asking for the cap. He hands it to her and their fingers brush for a moment, she savours it, a shot of electricity running through her veins. He finds himself blushing and quickly retracts his hand, though he'd give anything to touch her soft skin again. "Thanks." She mutters. "Yeah."

There's that awkward silence and neither of them knows what to do. "Your fault anyway." She says under her breath with quick wit. "You're the one who knows you don't smoke. Why take it?"

"Why offer it to me?" She giggles, he takes it from behind his ear again and inhales as he lets her question sit in the air. He shrugs and blows the thin smoke away from her face. "Didn't think you'd take it."

Honey rolls her eyes. "You've always been like that." He responds. "Like what?" She asks. He shrugs and takes another drag. "What?" She repeats and he continues to serve her with silence. "Well, you've always been an asshole." Honey spits back, now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "Always been like that." She says mocking his words from earlier. They look at each other as the awkward silence becomes less so, it bleeds into a comfortable feeling with each other. Rio's eye quickly falls to her lips and back up to her and she catches it. She witnesses his want for her, dare she say it's a need. And between the head buzz of both kush and liquor his mask was faltering, the longer she stared the softer his features became for her.

"I need you to kiss me..." She whispers and trails off, the statement taking the both of them by surprise, he'd ask for reassurance but the slight desperation in her voice and the positiveness in her face were more than enough. Rio doesn't hesitate. He kisses her like his life depends on it and maybe it did. His hands cup her cheeks drawing her closer to him. Their bodies pressed against each other and the kiss quickly rose from slow and sweet to hot and steamy. She slides her hands under his shirt, her fingers dance along the warm skin of his smooth back. He licks her bottom lip as a response and she gladly invites him in. Honey feels herself stumbling back as their tongues fight in the name of lust, she finally hits the counter and is hoisted on top of it.

"Wait..." She mumbled but it fell on deaf ears as his lips met hers again, she moaned into the kiss and gently pushed him back. "Someone's gonna see us." She laughs breathlessly. It was a miracle no one did already. He wraps her legs around him and lifts her off the counter. "You sure about this?"

She nods and he carries her up the stairs while making sure the coast is clear. He takes her to his bedroom, the place where it all started, and closes the door and locks it. "How long do you think it'll be before anyone notices you gone?"

"Who would notice?"

She playfully flicks him against his temple. "You are the birthday boy remember?"

"Worry about it later." He huffed and before she could get another word out he shut her up with another kiss. His hands shift her dress up around her hips, the cold air of his room creates prickles against her mahogany skin. He rests her down on the bed, her back contacting the very soft comforter and the memorable mattress. The best damn sleep she ever had was on that thing. His lips travel to her jawline and along the side of her neck. She turns her head giving him more access to her sweet spot he so seemingly remembers.

Her toes curl at the teasing, the anticipation, for once she wanted to skip foreplay and just go straight to it. Her eyes flutter as he sucks on her supple skin in hopes he'd leave a mark, another thing to spark her memory of him. Honey softly moans when his fingertips play with the strings of her thong, pulling them down and exposing her wet and needy pussy. She gasps at the friction from the band of his boxers rubbing against her swelling clit. Her eyes wander the room and land on his doorknob, she squints and giggles. "What?"

"Are... are those my panties hanging from your door?" She snorts. He quickly turns his head and blushes. "Maybe."

"You want these too?"

"Don't tempt me." He says before attaching his lips to her neck once again. She lightly scratches at his back. and whines as her aching hole clenches around nothing. He finally undoes his jeans, and the sound of his belt hitting the floor only adds to the tension, she almost whimpers when his shirt is next to go and his body is on display for her and her only. Rio's hands waste no time caressing the back of her legs as he pushes them back, his eyes so fixated on her swollen sex, he places his thumb on top of her clit and rubs slow circles on her sensitive nub. She sighs with pleasure as her eyes close, his thumb soon trails down her slit collecting her slick.

His middle and ring fingers follow the same path before they find their way inside her. "Oh." Honey mewled as they planted themselves deeper, her eyes slowly rolled to the back of her skull when he started playing with her pussy. He pushed his fingers in and took them out at a languid pace. The sounds of her wet pussy squelching with every pump of his fingers erupted through the room, bouncing into his ears and running straight to his dick as if it couldn't get any harder. He had to make this quick before anyone got suspicious.

"I promise mama, next time I'll take real good care of you." Rio coos in her ear before pulling away and ridding himself of his pants and boxers.

Honey softly whines and clenches at the promise of a next time. She watched his painfully hard dick spring out and hit his lower abdomen with a hard this. Her eyes slightly widened as if was her first time seeing him. Wondering how she took all that. "You scared now?"

Honey sat up on her elbows and shook her head, she looked up at him through her fresh set of lashes. She slowly spreads her legs wider. His eyes fall between them and his tongue swipes his bottom lip. "Next time..." He softly repeats to himself as a reminder. "Next time..." He pulls her to the end of the bed and drops to his knees in front of her, he can't wait until next time. He just needed a little taste.

His head disappears between her thighs and she's greeted with the warmth of his tongue between her swollen lips she glitches at the contact but soon relaxes when a kiss is pressed against her clit before it was followed up with his tongue once more. Her eyelids fluttered. He was practically making out with her pussy, wet and sloppy sounds made themselves known-- thank goodness the music could drown them out. Gasps and whines leave her lips, her toes curl, her body rendering her powerless against his regime, especially when his thumb starts to tease her hole with small circles.

His hands ran over the back of her thighs and hooked in the space provided behind her knees. She's writhing under his touch, her hands gripping onto his sheets for dear life. "Oooooh, yeeeesss." She slurs lost in her pleasure.

Rio smiles at her continuous babbling, half the words he could barely make out himself. Honey's moans were going straight to his dick making him harder than ever it was almost painful. He, unwillingly, pulls away and she lets out a frustrated sigh. He smacks her thigh and shakes his head. "You're getting what you want, mama, relax. Yeah?"

He gives her no time to respond before he guides himself inside her heat, she's beyond wet and sticky, he knew he wouldn't last. Her back arches with every inch he puts inside her, she cries out as her hand quickly flies to his lower abdomen. "Fuck, wait..." She protests, swearing she can't take anymore.

"Honey, if you don't move that hand." His tone let her know it was a warning, she whines as she takes her hand back. Her jaw slacks so much it touches her chest, he's in and he's in deep. He retracts only a little bit before going in for more. He drives his hips into hers at a tantalizing rhythm. Honey's head falls onto the soft mattress, she lays there and all she can do is take what he's giving to her like a good girl.

A string of poetic and vulgar moans leave her system, telling him how big he is, how deep he is and how good he's making her feel. He can only respond with his grunts and praises, leaning over to bury his head in the crook of her neck, whispering some of the filthiest things she'd ever heard. "That pussy is soaking for me, huh? Guess it wasn't the Don Julio, after all, you fucking like this?"

All she can do is nod, the air from her lungs has been knocked out. The bed is rocking, creaking to the beat of his strokes, the small fear of being caught or heard had dissipated and her sole focus was on the man on top of her. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Her nails dig into his flesh while his teeth graze over her neck, his tongue gracing the same area. Rio pounded into her until he felt her tighten around him, he looked at her to catch her love faces. The way her jaw drops and her eyes roll to the back of her head, her eyelids fluttering from the intense pleasure and the euphoric feeling. And he just keeps going. Dragging it out, making sure she lets out everything. All of it. But she can't take it anymore, it feels good but she's so sensitive from the explosive orgasm, that her hand goes back to his lower abdomen.

And Honey gasps out of shock when her hands are suddenly pinned to the bed and above her head. "I told you to move your fucking hand didn't I?"

"Fuck! Baby, I can't take it." She pleads. "But you took it so well last time mama. I remember it."

Her eyes gloss over. "Telling me you don't remember? The way you kept asking me, begging me for more. For me to go deeper, for me to fill you up all the way."

She nods lazily, though she can barely tell what she's agreeing with. "Yeah? So, you can take it. Look how well you're doing right now."

Rio mumbles into her neck, he lets go of her hands and they immediately hug around his neck. "There she is." Her heels dig into his lower back, she wanted it deeper if it was possible. "Fuck me, please." She whines and it's barely a whisper. He pushes himself deep and stills his hips. "You asked so nicely darlin'." He rasps.

She's pinned between his body and the mattress, she could feel a devilish smirk against her skin before he isolates his hips— rotating them sloooowly. He's losing it too, just trying to keep his cool but he was at his tipping point. His tip nudging against her g-spot and her lush walls contracting around him. "You wanna cum baby?" She whispers and now it's his turn to nod as he loses his words. "You can cum inside me." She purrs feeling another orgasm pulling through. Rio plunged into her, she's coating him with her sticky pleasure. He stills once more and soon he's pouring everything into her, she giggles lazily. "Mmm, so warm."

He chuckled and shook his head planting a passionate kiss on her cheek. And they lay like that for a while, vibing in their post-coital glow— sweaty, hot and satisfied.

But as time passes they realize they have to go back before anyone truly notices anything. He cleans her up and himself and then begins to get dressed, in silence, which feels awkward. Neither of them knew what to say.

After they get dressed, Rio sneaks out first just in case anyone is inside the house— especially on the lookout for his sister but when he confirms the coast is clear he knocks on the door twice to let Honey know they are fine. The small action causes her to smile to herself. "I have to fix my hair." She softly says and hears a muffled, "Take your time, baby."

Her heart leaps and the little girl inside her begins to glow which causes her cheeks to heat up and if she were any lighter she'd look like a tomato.

After making sure she looked decent she creeps out of his room and closes the door quietly, but as she heads to the top of the steps she hears, "Honey?"

You've got to be kidding.

She quickly spins on her heels and smiles, seeing Cherry in the door frame of the bathroom, she reaches to turn off the light and crosses her arms right after.

"Hi, Cherry."

Her friend's eyes dart between her and the bedroom door. "What are you doing in Rio's room?"

Honey's throat had suddenly run dry and her brain had flushed all the excuses in the world. She had nothing to say. What could she say? It wouldn't be believable regardless. Her mouth opened with the incentive to speak but nothing but croaks of awkwardness.

"Are you-"

"Honey!" A sudden call comes from downstairs. It's Rio looking up at them from the first floor. "Have you seen- oh there she is. Honey and I were looking for you. Bring your big heads downstairs I'm cutting the cake."

She could feel a bead of sweat forming at her hairline. "I'm getting the second slice!" Honey childishly announces bolting down the stairs. "No! I am!" Cherry follows suit and they both bolt down the stairs. Honey slows down allowing her friend to pass her. She squeezes his arm as a silent thank you and he nods at her.

Everyone is outside and gathered around the table waiting for the three of them to arrive. Cherry and Honey stand with the birthday boy as their mom lights the candles.

"One... two... three."

They begin to sing, and while everyone is looking at him he can only pay attention to one person. Honey. She giggles and puts her head down trying to hide her ginormous smile. Everyone else was too busy singing to notice, but Cherry... oh Cherry noticed. Something was going on and she needed to find out.

Now.

🏷️: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover @librarian1002

Might be interested: @bigenergy777 @educatorsareslutstoo

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[ohblitz0]

sugar - agent whiskey

pairing: jack ‘agent whiskey’ daniels x fem reader

summary: basically porn with a teeny tiny bit of plot. guys this is my first time really writing some smut so lmk what you guys think!

word count: 3.5k

warnings: maybe a bit ooc?? idk. (18+) smut u filthy animals. unprotected p in v. (wrap it before you tap it!) language, dirty talk, rough sex, fingering, bondage and I think that's it?

Your life had been pretty mundane before you were lucky enough to get a stable job at a company called Statesman. Statesman was a company that sold the finest whiskey in the United States and just so happened to be an undercover spy organization. Life wasn’t so dull anymore. How you found yourself here was a long story but even if hard to admit– there was some pretty eye candy at your disposal. 

Your job wasn’t too tricky. You had plenty of things to do like paperwork, let's see... More paperwork– some combat training which was fun and then dealing with Mr. Agent Whiskey. You’d be lying if you said you hated it but nobody had to know how you truly felt about the matter. You liked to keep that your little secret. After all,  Jack didn’t need his ego flattered anymore than it already was. The constant smirking and cockiness that basically evaporated off of him was a lot to handle at first but you got used to it– even enjoyed it. You couldn’t help it after spending so many hours with the man, you eventually developed some affection for him. The constant flirting, the damned pet names, and that handsome face were enough to reel you in. You also admired how hard working he was, all those late nights spent together investigating for missions, you saw how he took pride in his work. 

Speaking of late nights at the office. 

Your fingers rubbed at your temple trying to soothe the dull ache that would soon become a migraine if you didn’t take a break from reading and sorting out so much paperwork. The sun had set a long time ago but you were still there. Trying to prepare for tomorrow's assignment. You weren’t alone, Jack had stayed behind as well. You could see his office clearly, the light still on, just across from where your desk was on the outside. During regular shift hours, when the building was full of life, you would exchange many words with him but on nights like these both of you were as quiet as a mouse. Sighing, you looked at your now empty coffee cup and contemplated asking Jack if he would like a cup on your way to make yourself one. You felt silly for being shy all of the sudden, you’ve known him for quite a while now but simple acts like this seemed far more intimate? 

“You got this,” you murmured quietly as you grabbed your cup and slowly walked towards his office. You could see his shadow sitting on his desk through the privacy-stained glass and your heart skipped a bit. Once you made it to his door you knocked softly before entering. 

“Come in.” you heard the muffle of that sweet southern drawl before opening his door and standing on the threshold with a small smile. God– he looked handsome. His cowboy hat was set aside on his desk, hair slightly disheveled but still as handsome as ever.

“Still here, darlin’?” he said with a cat-like grin, a small chuckle following after as he leaned back into his chair, arms crossed. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eye gave you once over before licking his lips. You nodded with a small laugh, fingers grasping your mug tightly, taking a step inside his office now. 

“Was wonderin’ if you’d like a cup as well? I don’t know about you but I needed a pick-me-up.” 

He hummed before getting up from his seat, walking around and towards you. He gently grasped your mug from your hands, you could feel his warmth just by the brush of his fingers and it sent a shiver down your spine. As he grabbed the mug he leaned back against his desk before setting it down. There was a small puzzled look on your face, lips slightly parted in loss of words before he filled the silent void for you. 

“How about we just take a breather, you and me? How’s that sound, sweetheart?” his voice sounded as gentle as ever, but you felt some tension in the air now. Maybe, it was because you didn’t know if you should sit down or not, you felt glued to your spot. 

“Sounds... Sounds fine,” you murmured almost breathlessly, maybe it was the fatigue taking over, your normal bubbly personality dying down and what was left was just bashfulness. You clasped your fingers together, a small smile on your face, your eyes diverting from his for a moment, seeing his whip and lasso still attached to his hip. You wondered why he still had those on, the day was over and this was definitely not a combat situation. You might have been staring too long because the husk of that southern accent awoke you from your thoughts.

“Like what you see, baby?” 

A small scoff left your lips, “Cocky as ever aren’t you–” your words were soon caught in your throat as you felt him grasp your wrist and pull you into him. Perfectly fitting between his legs, his free hand grasping your chin gently. You felt heat rise upon your cheeks from this newfound proximity, your feet trying to pull you back but failing due to Jack pulling you right back in. 

“What the hell!” 

“Is that any way to talk to your superior?” His voice was deep and strong. This wasn’t the sweet, playful voice you had been used to. This was different. You felt intimidated and shocked, and you felt that familiar warmth spread inside you. This was so out of the blue, you still couldn't fully register what had happened. Lips parting, words on the tip of your tongue but failing to come out. Of course, Jack was your superior, you were his right hand but the dynamic was always playful, and he was rarely ever stern with you. Your quietness wasn’t appreciated as his hand moved from the gentle grasp of your chin down to the side of your neck, forcefully pulling you closer to him. Your nose was almost touching his as he spoke. 

“Do I need to repeat myself, sugar?” 

“No– No.” you stammered out weakly, eyes staring into his own, trying to understand where this all came from. “No, what?” His voice was sharp, and mean, and it made you shiver. 

“No, sir.”

He hummed in approval, both of his hands moving to grasp both of your hands gently. The contrast between rough and gentle demeanor was driving you insane– you loved it. He stood up off his desk, hands still holding yours as he stared down at you. “Tell me to stop.” He whispered, eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort, reluctance, disgust, anything. He was asking for permission and it made you feel safe. He felt safe. Of course, that was the bare minimum but it meant the world to you, especially coming from someone you had admiration for. A smile formed on your face before you spoke. 

“It’s okay Jack.” You whispered, body subconsciously leaning towards him more, feeling his warmth and wanting more. You could smell his scent, aroma filled with his cologne, smoke, and whiskey. It was addicting. He nodded, humming in satisfaction before he abruptly swung you around. Now you were in front of his desk and him behind you. 

“Hm, I don’t think it’s okay at all, darlin’. Every day I come to work, here you are all dolled up and I’m just dying to have a taste.” His hand pushed at your back, your hands flying forward bracing yourself against the desk. Sliding his hand further down, pressing against your spine making you press your body fully onto the desk. Your cheek flushed against the wood, hands flat on the surface. Your chest heaved, feeling your breath pick up, you could feel yourself already soaking wet for him. 

“And these dresses? Oh, babydoll.” He said with a ‘tsk’ hand grasping the ends of your dress and hiking it up. You were definitely glad you wore some cute underwear today. You heard a small groan behind you, trying to tilt your head to see him but failing because of his hand that had trailed down to keep you in place. A whimper slipped past your lips as you felt his hand cup your sex. His thumb pressed against the folds, feeling your arousal coat your underwear. Your thighs closed in on his hand from the blissful feeling. A rough ‘No’ was heard from behind you, his knee pressing between your legs and spreading them apart to gain more access. 

His body leaned over your own, his other hand pressed beside your head now bracing himself above you. His fingers moved your panties aside, fingers generously circling around that spot you needed the most attention from. He alternates between a slow pace, to fast, to slow, and it is beginning to drive you insane. Tears brimming your eyes, eyes lashes wet, you're pretty sure your mascara was running down your face. A complete mess under his touch. Then suddenly you felt a finger pressed inside you, filling up that empty ache. 

“Mm, please…” you gasped out almost pathetically, already drunk on his simple touches. 

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll give you what you need. You’ve been so good after all.” 

Another finger was added. Then another. Three thick fingers filled you almost too perfectly. There was a slight tinge of pressure but you invited the pain. You couldn’t help but circle your hips around his fingers, adjusting to the feeling of being so full of him. It was just his fingers and it had you unfolding before him already. All you could hear was your heavy panting, small whimpers of pleasure, and his sultry voice in the quiet building. This was your place of work, where you now had a man plunging his fingers inside your pussy at a delicious pace. Now every time you’d walk in for work, you’d remember that feeling and the thought made you even wetter. 

You began to feel that pleasurable release build up inside of you, your eyes were beginning to flutter closed before you felt your hair being tugged, craning your face to look upon the man before you. 

“Eyes on me, sugar.” His voice rasped, his lips ghosting over your jaw before kissing it gently. Your eyes stayed open after that, trying your best to remain eye contact as he thrust his fingers at a rapid pace now. You mewled at the feeling, that delicious build-up was near and your walls clenched around his fingers tightly. All you could really focus on was the feeling, the wet noises of your arousal, and his deep voice littering you with praise. 

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

“Look at you. Such a pretty little mess from just my fingers, huh?”

“Scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar.” And then you felt it hit you, your legs shook and your thighs desperately wanted to press together from the overwhelming feeling but were unable to because of  Jack’s knee keeping you spread open for him. His name tumbled from your lips, a small whimper following as your hips circled and rode out your high. 

He pulled away slowly, his fingers leaving your wet hole, as he stood up towering over your body. You slowly turned yourself around, knees wobbling, as you leaned up against his desk. Your eyes couldn't help but wander down and see the large bulge straining against his tight denim jeans. You watched as one of his hands, you guessed the one that was just in you– fingers glistening with reminisce of your release, grasped his belt buckle and began to undo it swiftly. 

“Hm, I think you're ready for real fun now, darlin’.” He said, a devilish grin gracing his face as he walked back to his desk chair. You noticed he was still holding his belt, his whip still attached to it. You followed suit as you heard him tell you– “Come here.” in a gentle tone. Your legs felt so weak, still shaken from your last orgasm but your arousal was still there. You wanted more– needed more. 

He looked undeniably sexy sitting before you. Thick thighs spread wide for you allowing you to stand between them. “Take it off, sweetheart.” He said, eyeing your dress as he went for his tie loosening it. Your hands pulled your dress off, leaving you in your undergarments. Your chest heaved up and down from your soft breaths, fingers grasping the back of your bra as you unclasped it boldly. It was silly how heat filled your cheeks as your chest was now bare before his eyes after what just happened minutes before. Now fully naked before him after pulling your last garment off you stepped closer to Jack. His arm wrapped around your waist pulling you to straddle his lap, the roughness of his jeans scraping against your warm skin. 

Your eyes stared back at his brown ones, a small smile grazing your lips as your delicate fingers grasped his face. Noses brushed against each other as a small giggle left your lips making a smile etched on his face. Finally, your lips met his soft ones in a gentle kiss. His mustache tickles your upper lip but you didn't mind one bit. Foreheads pressed together as the kiss broke, breathing each other in as you caressed his jaw sweetly. 

“To answer your question from earlier– I do like what I see,” you murmured upon his lips, pressing them against his once more for another quick kiss. He chuckled, one that was deep and rumbled in his chest. Biting your lip to contain yet another smile from that sweet sound. 

“Such a good girl, huh?” his hand pressing into the small of your back, pushing you closer to his body if it was even possible. Your eyes fell curious on his other hand that still grasped his belt. Holding it in front of you, his other hand now grasping your wrists together, you had an idea where this was going and weren't mad about it one bit. Your heartbeat quickened as he began to wrap the belt around your wrists tightly. “So good.” His murmured praise made your cheeks flush and your cunt drip arousal down your legs. Once the belt was secure, your eyes fell down as you watched him pull his cock free from his jeans. 

Fuck. He was huge. How was he even hiding that thing in his pants? It was long and the girth was thick. His hand stroked his length a couple times, thumb grazing his tip that leaked pre-cum. He saw that surprised look on your face, making him grin and a small chuckle leaves his lips. You noticed he held his whip still, now setting it on his desk. “Maybe, we'll use that next time.” You heard him murmur which perked up your ears. Thinking about the next time made your heart flutter. 

“You gonna take it like the good girl you are, hm?” So enthralled by him, your parted lips failed to answer him as you watched him begin to push his tip inside you. Suddenly you felt a sting along your ass from him slapping it, the skin beginning to turn red from the impact. A loud gasp left your lips from the action, your bound hands resting along one of his shoulders trying to find purchase. 

“Answer when I talk to you, darlin’. Understood?” He said, his voice rough as he plunged the rest of himself inside you. 

“Fuck! Yes.. I’ll be good!” You whimpered out from the sudden fullness. It was like the wind got knocked out of you. Your walls clenched around his cock tightly, trying to get used to this new feeling. His hands rested on your hips, rocking them back and forth slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Once the small sting began to vanish and was now filled with mostly undying pleasure, your pace began to pick up. 

Your bound wrists went over his hand, fingers grasping the nape of his neck as you rutted your hips into him. His lips attacked the side of your neck as you swayed your hips against him, moaning and panting his name like a song. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he grunted, his hot breath fanning over your skin sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers still grasped your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips helping you keep your steady pace. “Doing so well, taking all of me. Knew you could do it. That sweet cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?” And it truly felt like it did, it fit so well inside you, snug, and hit all the right places. 

That familiar sound of your wetness and skin connecting on skin filled the room along with heavy breathing and Jack’s foul mouth. 

“Yes! Mm.. just for you.” You moaned, hips stuttering as you felt that heat pool into your core, that delicious build-up close once more. Your chin was able to rest on top of his head from this angle and you rutted into him. His face was pressed into your breasts, lips latching onto one of your lips, sucking and kissing the soft flesh. His hands gripped your hips roughly, stalling your movements before he lifted his own and started thrusting into your hole at a killing pace. A scream left your lips, a shriek from the sudden brutal pace as you held onto him. Your walls began to clench around him, your orgasm almost reaching its peak. 

“You gonna come for me, baby?”

“God, yes... Please.”

“I’m close, baby. Come with me, sweetheart–” he grunted as he continued his brutal pace. You whined his name, like a plea, as you pressed yourself back down on him, circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Your walls clenched down on him like a vice grip as you came, mewling in bliss as your head fell against his shoulder. Your thighs shook as your body slumped into his. His hips began to stutter and with a few more hard thrusts his seed filled your swollen hole. His hands guided your hips in a lazy circle against his cock, riding out his high, the actions made you cry out from the sensitivity. 

“I know, sugar. Sh, I got ya.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. The two of you stayed like this for a few minutes. His cock is still buried inside you as he unravels your wrists. The skin was red and swollen but you didn’t care. You liked that he marked you in some way. He placed gentle kisses along your face as he moved your hair away from your face. 

“Did so well for me. Like you always do,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them with your own in a lazy but sweet kiss. And that phrase had so much meaning to it. You have always been by his side since you got hired here. Every mission, every wound was tended to, the hardships and all that shitty paperwork. You were there. And after tonight, the two of you changed. A fire was ignited and those shied feelings now were in the open. 

                                    ────────────

Of course, this would happen to you. After last night you went home, of course fully satisfied, and slept like a fucking baby halfway through your important briefing for the next mission that you were supposed to be preparing for the night before. You were in a frantic mess all morning, hurrying to get ready and grab all your shit before bolting out the door and driving to work. Your mind was still in a haze from the night before and your cheeks flushed as you stepped into the building and headed toward the elevator. The top floor is where the magic happens. Literally. 

You took a deep breath before exhaling, trying to ease your anxiety from being late and elevate the embarrassment you felt for being late. It wasn’t like you. But of course, one single touch from that goddamn agent that you are spiraling. You decided that you’d put the blame on the handsome man. After all, he did fuck you till you were seeing stars. 

As you walked in, a fellow coworker eyed you with a knowing look. ‘You’re in for it’ her face said as he nodded towards the briefing room where now only Jack Daniels himself sat. You sighed, walking in and shutting the door behind you. Setting your folder down on the table you clasped your hands in front of you, finding it hard to look at him at this point. Before you could get a word out, that familiar southern drawl filled the air.

“Tsk, and I thought you were a good girl? Looks like that reward got to your head, sugar.” He chuckled with a shake of his head, grinning at the way your cheeks turned red. A little embarrassed that your coworkers were right outside as he said those words. 

“Jack— I'm sorry really—“ you began to say before he shook his head once more with a whistle. His figure stood up from his seat as he began to stalk over you like prey. 

“Y’know actions speak louder than words, beautiful. I’m gonna need you to show me just how sorry you are, baby.” He finished as he stood in front of you now, toe to toe, a finger grasping your chin. At that moment you truly realized just how different things would be. 

#pedro pascal #pedro x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey #kingsmen secret service #kingsmen golden circle #smut #tlou smut #joel miller

[toomuchracket]

and america likes me (politician!matty x reader smut)

i don't even know what to say about this. it's 3.5k words of matty if he was US president, and it's so filthy i feel like the shame nun from game of thrones is going to start following me around. like... there's butt stuff in here lmfao. that said, there's also fluff. idk. blame lana del rey for this, and enjoy <3

"matty, slow down, for fuck's sake, these heels are too high for me to run in!"

your husband scoffs and comes to an abrupt halt, releasing your hand from his own. before you can say anything, he scoops you into his arms and keeps moving down the marble-floored corridor, albeit more slowly than before, kissing you quickly to muffle the involuntary shriek you let out as you're flung into the air. "honestly, baby, i don't even know why you persist in wearing heels to these events - it's kinda inevitable that we'll run off somewhere we won't be interrupted, yeah?"

he's right. the two of you have been sneaking out of dinners and dances and drinks receptions together for the better part of twenty years, in search of lockable rooms where dresses can be hoisted up and underwear yanked down with nobody else finding out. but this isn't a university ball. it isn't a charity gala. it isn't a congressional dinner. christ, it isn't even your wedding. 

you press a gentle kiss to the underside of matty's jaw, savouring his little hum of contentment that follows. "well, i thought my husband being sworn in as president was an event that deserved six inches of stiletto."

"i can think of something else that deserves six in-"

"i swear to god, matthew, if you finish that sentence i'm turning around and going back to the party without you."

matty laughs and kisses your nose. "we both know you're not going to do that, sweetheart."

"oh, do we, now?" you ask, raising a brow. "and what evidence do we have of that, mr. president?"

a smirk, the same one that's weakened any and all resolve of yours since you were eighteen. "because i'm ridiculously hot, that's why."

you roll your eyes as matty laughs, but - once again - he's right. he is ridiculously hot, especially in this moment: the moonlight streaming through the big windows catches the grey hairs threaded through his dark curls, his slightly stubbled jaw and cheekbones sharpened by the shadows it casts. the tie he was wearing earlier got lost somewhere between your first official dance as president and first lady and now, the top few buttons of his dress shirt coming undone in solidarity with it. speaking of the shirt - despite its expensive price, the white fabric is still sheer enough for the black ink on matty's sternum to be visible. although, you wonder, the transparency of the shirt might have less to do with fabric thickness and more to do with the fact it's being slightly stretched over your husband's muscle-wrapped chest, and the strong arms currently tucked under your legs. either way, it's really working for him. and you, as a result.

"mmm, i concur," you smile. "i think the evidence is quite satisfactory."

matty's turn to raise a brow. "quite?"

"well," you say, trailing a manicured nail down his neck and chest, stopping as you reach the first closed button. "i've only had a partial look. i think you need to be a bit more… uncovered."

"oh, believe me, sweetheart, that'll be happening. for both of us, actually," matty grins. "as much as i love this dress on you, i do in fact need to get you out of it as soon as possible."

"i'm cool with that."

"excellent. in that case, hang on tight."

you do as asked, and matty runs down the rest of the corridor, stopping when he reaches an imposing oak door. he gently puts you back on the ground, giggling with you and holding your hand as you readjust to standing on stilettos; he brings it to his lips quickly, before pushing open the door and beckoning you to step inside.

as you enter the warmly-lit entryway, a young man dressed in black leaps up from his seat behind a desk. "evening, ma'am, mr. president, sir."

matty gestures for the man to sit down. "evening, sam. i take it they radioed to tell you we were coming down here for a bit of peace and quiet?"

"yes, sir."

you squint at him. "you look pale, sam. have you had any dinner? or any sort of break, at all?"

"well… no, ma'am," sam replies, hesitantly. "i've been here since noon."

"almost twelve hours? that won't do at all," you gasp. "i really think you should get something to eat. and some coffee. the sooner, the better, because you look dead on your feet. no offence."

"none taken, ma'am. but i can't leave the vicinity of the office here until the shift change at 2."

"you don't have to," matty pipes up. "there's cake and coffee in the chief of staff's kitchen. and chairs that are much more comfortable than the one you have here - i'll sort that out for you tomorrow, actually. go, have a bit of a rest for an hour or so."

sam still looks hesitant. "are you sure, sir?"

matty nods, smiling. "that's a direct order. we'll ring you if we need anything."

"thank you, sir. oh, and speaking of the chief of staff," sam replies, pulling out a bottle of champagne from under his desk. "he left this for the two of you."

"ah, adam. always so kind," you grin, taking the bottle. "thank you, sam. have a good night."

"thank you," sam nods, making his way to a plain side door as you and matty make yours towards another imposing one in the opposite direction. "and you too, ma'am, mr. president. congratulations again."

"much appreciated, sam, thanks. see you tomorrow," matty waves, before gently pulling you through the second door and closing it behind you. "finally. alone at last."

you lay the champagne on a nearby sideboard and pull your husband into a tight hug. his arms find home around your waist, while your head buries itself in the crook of his neck. "alone at last, in the oval office. which i am very excited about decorating, by the way. this room is going to look beautiful once i'm through with it."

matty laughs, pulling back to look at you and caressing your face softly with his thumb. "it already looks more beautiful with you standing in it, darling, in your pretty dress and all your jewels." 

as he speaks, he lightly brushes his fingers over said jewels adorning your hair and earlobes and neck and wrists and fingers. you smirk, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "you forgot one."

matty's head drops onto your shoulder, and he trails kisses along into your neck. one of his hands begins to knead your asscheek, while the other slips down the small of your back and past your tailbone and presses - gently, but still enough to send a rush of heat to your core. "i can assure you i did not, dirty girl."

"your dirty girl," you say, pulling matty in for a kiss. he eagerly accepts, tongue immediately slipping into your mouth; matty always kisses like he's trying to completely consume you. as if he hasn't already - your heart, your thoughts, your dreams… they're all devoted to him. and you want to demonstrate that devotion now. "who's about to get on her knees for you in the middle of the oval office."

matty moans into your mouth, but shakes his head. "nah," he says, pulling back, breathless and wild-eyed. "s'not what i want right now."

you pout. your husband laughs. "later, sweetheart, i promise. but for now - will you go and sit behind the desk for me?"

a rush of excitement passes through you. unlike matty, a political career has never been your dream, but the thought of getting to sit at the presidential desk in the oval office and experience the illusion of having that much power is undeniably thrilling. so you oblige, looking up at a smiling matty from your place on the butter-soft leather. "what exactly are you planning on doing, baby?"

another kiss, then matty speaks against your lips. "pledging my allegiance."

before you have time to react, matty's on his knees in front of you, unclasping your heels and carefully lifting your feet from them. then, sliding a hand up the expanse of your leg visible through the slit in your skirt, he gently lifts the top section of fabric away and spreads your legs as much as the dress allows. his pretty eyes light up at the sight of your lacy white panties; you whimper as he runs a finger down them, to which he responds with a "so responsive for me, fuck".

"take them off," you whine. "please, need you."

"and you'll get me, darling, whatever you want," matty coos. he slides the damp lace down your legs and places it on the desk - a disgustingly erotic sight, it has to be said - before placing a thigh on each of his shoulders and leaning in. 

with a flat tongue, and with those dark eyes locked on your own, matty slowly licks upwards from your entrance; you moan in relief as he meets the wetness he coaxed out of your body by nothing more than just being. but relief is short-lived - his tongue points and swirls as it meets your clit for the briefest of moments, before matty takes the sensitive bud between his lips and just sucks.

pleasure shoots through your nervous system, releasing a wail from your throat, sending your hand straight into matty's hair, and forcing your hips to jerk upward. matty tries to stop the latter by pressing a hand on your stomach; combined with the way he's practically making out with your cunt and the way he moans into it when your fingers wrap themselves around his curls, though, it has the opposite effect. 

but your husband doesn't seem to mind your hips writhing, your stomach clenching under his hand, your cunt grinding against his face. in fact, he seems to fucking love it - the way he's palming himself through his dress trousers with his free hand certainly corroborates that. when the realisation of what his arm movement is breaks through your sex-addled brain, a heady mixture of pride and more pleasure courses through your body. one of the most powerful men in the world is on his knees before you, as you're perched on the literal seat of his power, eating you out like a man starved and enjoying himself so much he can't help but get off to it like a horny teenage boy.

the thought alone would be enough to make you cum. and in conjunction with the actual feeling of matty fervently mouthing at your cunt, you're imminently heading that way. "matty, i'm - oh, fuck, that feels good - m'gonna cum, baby. please, please, make me cum, fuck, oh my god."

matty's eyes roll back in his head at your words. he abandons his self-pleasuring to wrap both arms around your thighs and tug you even closer to his mouth; you don't quite understand how that's possible, given how enthusiastically he's been tongue-fucking you for god knows how long, but, somehow, he manages it, burying the deft muscle up to the hilt inside you and bringing a calloused thumb to your clit. you let out a choked sob, digging your nails into the arms of your/his/the federal government's chair as your hips continue jerking and the elastic band of ecstasy grows ever more taut in the pit of your stomach. with a final suck of your clit, it snaps, spilling whines of your husband's name from your lips and warm liquid from your core onto his waiting face and tongue. he gently laps it up so it doesn't spill onto your pretty dress, cooing praises and reassurances in the moments in between when he comes up to catch his breath.

once he's satisfied with how clean you are, matty releases his vice grip on your thighs and rests his head on the left one. he's just as breathless as you, and probably just as fucked-out-looking, but you've never found him more beautiful, all messy and bright-eyed and covered in you. smiling, you run a shaky hand through his curls and watch him close his eyes in contentment; when he reopens them, he presses a kiss on your inner thigh and looks up at you. "hi."

"hi," you reply, smiling sweetly. "i love you."

"i love you too."

you grin cheekily. "the way you just went down on me suggested that, yes."

matty laughs. "honestly, baby, i think that was the most fun i'm ever going to have in this office."

"nah," you say, sitting up and leaning down to kiss him. the tang of yourself on his tongue sends another burst of heat between your legs. "i'm about to return the favour."

"jesus christ," matty groans, squishing his face into your thigh. he inhales, then looks back up at you apologetically. "as much as i'd love that, sweetheart - and i really, really would - i think if i'm not inside you in the next two minutes i might actually pass out."

you giggle, stroking his cheek. "noted. can i ride you, then? at least for a little bit, and then you can take me however you'd like."

"fuck, yeah. but i need to get you out of that dress first, need to see your tits. that alright with you?"

"mhmm," you nod. "can i get you naked, too, baby?"

"'course," matty smiles, pulling himself up to stand and helping you up onto your shaky legs. "turn around for me, gorgeous." 

when you obey, he presses little kisses across the back of your bare shoulders, while simultaneously working on undoing the little buttons lining your spine. your dress falls to the ground once the final button is undone, leaving you bare save the jewels dotted around your body; swearing under his breath, matty brushes the one only he and you know about. "some day, i'm going to fuck you there, in this room."

gleeful, you spin around to face him,  shoving his suit jacket off and beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt. "that better be a promise."

"oh, you beautiful, filthy girl," matty coos. he takes your face in his hands and kisses you, as your fingers move to unfastening his trousers. breaking the kiss, matty kicks his shoes off as you rid him of his shirt and attach your lips to the tattoo of your first initial on his ribs. "of course it's a promise. but first, i need to fuck that tight little pussy of yours, alright?"

"i can see that," you tease, as you yank down matty's trousers and boxers in one fell swoop and see his presumably achingly hard dick for the first time that evening. "take a seat, mr. president. let me make you feel good."

matty does as you ask, settling down in the chair and holding his hands out to help you climb on too. it's a big chair, the seat wide enough for you to comfortably kneel on either side of his hips, but matty doesn't look small in it by any means; he's assured, powerful, imposing… and sexy. you tell him as much, and his cheeks go pink as he shakes his head. "enough flattery, more fucking, please, sweetheart."

you smirk. "whatever you want, sir." with that, you slowly sink down onto matty's dick, both of your jaws dropping in tandem as more and more of him slides inside you. as he bottoms out, you blink dazedly, already slightly overwhelmed from how full you feel.

matty notices, and brings a hand to cup your jaw. "you alright, darling?"

"yeah, just full," you reply breathily, smiling sweetly at your husband. "feels good."

a smile in return. "feels amazing, baby. d'you want a hand moving?"

in response, you rise up on your knees and sink slowly back down, eliciting a moan from matty and a grin from yourself. "i've got it."

matty watches as you continue to bounce on him, your pace increasing with every meeting of your bodies. as you speed up, your tits begin their own bouncing; with a groan of your name, your husband takes one in each hand and squeezes gently, making you whine when he rolls your nipples between finger and thumb. "too fucking right you've got it, babe."

the praise shoots straight to your head, egging you on enough that you speed up your bouncing even more, as best you can. matty can't tear his hooded-with-pleasure eyes away from your tits, but even in his fucked-out haze he still manages to bring his thumb to your clit and lightly circle it; you whine and clench around him as soon as he makes contact, which rips a throaty groan from his lips. "shit, baby, just like that. so fucking tight around me, so fucking perfect, christ, feels like you were fucking made for me."

"love the way you feel inside me," you whine. "want you - fuck - everywhere."

matty closes his eyes for a second as if to compose himself - when they reopen, the beautiful brown is almost completely gone, replaced by the dilated black of lust. the hand not already preoccupied with your clit sneaks across your hip, deft fingers quickly meeting the jewel decorating your peachy ass. "oh, baby, i want that too. can't tonight, though, because we don't have everything we need. but we can still play a little bit…"

keeping his eyes on your face the whole time, matty slowly starts to pull the jewel out of you, just enough that the ring of muscle is stretched ever so slightly by the thickest part of the glass, before working it back in and repeating the motion. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling, the third level of simultaneous stimulation driving you deeper into your already sex-addled state, and your voice shakes as you whimper. "oh my fucking god."

despite being just as sex-addled as you, matty's cheeks lift into the most smug, most shit-eating grin you've ever seen him wear. "you like that, baby?"

you can't answer, your brain too hazy to send the signals for speech to your voicebox. but it's alright - matty's doing one of his telltale rhetorical 'orgasm is imminent' monologues: "yeah, i know you fuckin' do, shit, clenching around me like that. fucking love it when you do that, fucking love you, my girl, my favourite girl. such a good girl for me, fuck, just so perfect. you're getting close again, aren't you, sweetheart?"

still riding, despite your burning thighs, you nod. the elastic in your stomach is tightening again, far quicker than it did before your previous orgasm; your ability to talk hasn't quite returned, so you settle for burying your head into the crook of matty's neck and digging your nails into his back, tethering yourself to him in a wordless attempt to tell him you're about to cum. 

luckily, your husband knows you and your body so well that he understands instantly, shuffling underneath you so he can fuck up into you and get you both off. "need you to cum for me, darling," matty murmurs into your hair. "need to feel you cum all over me. please, sweetheart."

it's the plea that does it. on top of the clitoral stimulation, and the attention on both holes, and the dirty talk, and the previous orgasm, and the sheer fact that it's matty underneath and inside you… it's his desperation that knocks you off the precipice. the elastic band doesn't so much snap as it completely shatters, sending a wave of total pleasure throughout your body that's so strong you actually black out for a second, after managing to finally croak out your husband's name.

you're brought back to earth by said husband whining directly into your ear. "oh fuck, babe, m'so close, m'so fucking close - shit, where do you want me to cum?"

"inside me, please," you reply, still panting from the aftershocks of orgasm.

"fuck, you want me to fill you up? i'll fucking do it, sweetheart," matty groans, hips beginning to stutter as he nears his climax. his speech, though, still flows out unencumbered. "might even put a baby in you, if we're lucky. you like that idea, darling, a picture-perfect little presidential family?"

you hum contentedly, too tired to do anything but nod into matty's neck. against your temple, you feel him smile. "then i'll fucking give it to you - shit, m'gonna cum. gonna fuckin' fill you up, give you what you want. give you anything you want, whenever you want it, my wife, my perfect girl - oh, fuck, i'm there. fuuuuuuuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

matty wraps his arms around your waist and pushes down slightly with his shoulders, keeping your bodies flush as he pulses heat into you. he keeps his arms there even after orgasm wears off, and yours stay loosely wrapped around his neck; for a few minutes, you stay just like that, the room silent aside from the tandem heavy breathing. you're first to break it, pulling back from matty's neck to look at him. "hi."

"hi," matty giggles, leaning up to give you a peck on your pouty lips. "so… we just absolutely desecrated the oval office."

you giggle too. "indeed we did. worth it, though."

"absolutely," matty brushes a stray strand of hair - still miraculously mostly intact, despite it all - from your forehead. "you feeling alright, baby? you need anything?"

"honestly? a drink would be nice."

matty throws his head back against the leather and laughs, before looking back at you and stroking your cheek. "give me a minute to recover, sweetheart, and then we can crack open that champagne from adam and toast the incredible sex we just had, yeah?"

"absolutely, mr. president."

#mads muses #mads does writing #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #politician matty

[mingigoo]

2 a.m. || Choi San

pairing ⇢ idol! San x makeup artist (prev. sex worker)! (fem) reader x wooyoung (kinda)

synopsis ⇢ it’s funny, you never thought you’d be underneath the Choi San, having him worship your body as if you were a goddess. The truth? You were just his little toy he could play with and toss around—good thing you liked it rough with no strings attached.

genre/au ⇢ idol au, and smut. Literally just smut.

warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), they use each other for sex, Also San is dominant as shit, fingering, maybe a little toxic idk, licking, biting, slight choking, dirty talk (barely, but it’s there), creampie, hotel sex, fwb but they're not even friends, i am horrible with tags please let me know if I missed anything.

word count ⇢ 3.5k

taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @meowmeowminnie @roe-sinning @yeritheloml @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @8tinytings @yukine-smx @jjhmk @yesv01 @halesandy @ch0isa99ie @y00nzin0 @spiderrenjunfics

You belonged to him. He belonged to you.

Breaths intertwined, fingers locked, hearts beating at the same time.

You met him at two in the morning, the first day you merged bodies as if it was the only way to survive. His lips became yours; your breaths became one as your bodies clashed into each other like waves of the ocean. 

Powerful, so, so powerful they could knock you over with one little breath of wind. He clawed, grasped, clung to any possible surface as his power would rush through you, in you, all around you. 

You gasp for air, for a breath, anything. He took away the reality, spinning into your world with those pretty eyes of his. His hips would crash, his eyes would shut, his mouth would open, crying out your name.

You didn't belong to him. He didn't belong to you.

You were his distraction; his resource to get rid of his pent up attraction. And he was the same, a way for you to release the tension you kept inside. His body was indeed yours at two a.m, as yours was his—the only time the word lover could be used as he’d make love to you, lustfully and powerfully. His lips would find your hips,  your thighs, your breasts. He worshiped you on his knees for the night.

But when the next day comes, you wouldn't know each other. His lips weren't on yours, and neither would his gaze meet yours. His hands were at his sides, even if they were once gripping your hips as he pounded into you the night before.

Who? Who is the man that used you? Took advantage of your body? Caressed every curve, kissed every spot? He was no one other than a famous idol, known for his sexy image but sweet personality. Choi San, a wolf in sheep's clothing, attacking his prey the minute the clock strikes two.

And you would be his victim over and over and over again. Worst part?

You liked it. 

–

You sat in the backstage dressing room, a bottle of water clutched in your hand and your phone in the other. You watched the time tick, second by second, as the time neared for the boys to arrive. You spent your daylight as a makeup artist for a k-pop group—none other than ATEEZ. You loved them, in all honesty, given the turmoil you've been through with other groups. This group was less of a headache, and actually cared for the people around them.

It was refreshing.

Before you worked for ateez, at night you became a fox—another level of the woman you already are. As your day ended, you'd walk into the darkness of femininity, becoming a creature of the night. You were the one to prey on men’s little hearts, taunting them with all kinds of sins.

 Now that your day job took up time even through the evening, you lost that sense of desire, unable to fulfill your aches. Call yourself a whore or a slut, whatever, it didn't bother you one bit. You were just making money—it was business. 

But after all this time of constant care for eight very attractive men, your femme-fatale roots are breaking through the soil, tempting you with something as little as a look in your direction.

Especially San.

Choi San, a literal nightmare-daydream, devil incarnate. It was so strong that even his breathing turned you on. He was built like a mountain—and you wanted to climb it.

Your hands were sweaty, nervous for the first performance of the tour. You weren't performing, no, you were carefully making the boys pretty, paying close attention to every part of their body. Your ice-cold heart was about to boil over when a certain boy walked in, his hair freshly dyed black and his face bare of any makeup. 

You knew his name, his personality type, his favorite color. You knew he liked his dick sucked off while you kneeled on the ground. He liked his hands in your hair, on your ass. He liked it when you moaned his name, and liked to claw at your back like a feline.

And after all this, there was nothing other than that mutual attraction.

“San, you can sit in y/n’s chair,” the head stylist signaled to where you were standing, your eyes focused on his sinister smile and his heartbreaker appearance.

He was already fitted into his stage look. Tight leather pants clung to his muscular frame, and a cropped black tank top fit his torso like it was made for him. His toned abs basically screamed at you while he stood tall, staring at you for a long while. The main stylist made a knowing face, and walked away to take one of the other boys.

“You can sit here.” you spoke strongly, despite the urge to toss him in the chair yourself. He obliged, but not before giving you a flirtatious smirk. He sat down in your chair, manspreading the minute his fine ass hit the cushion.

God fucking dammit.

You didn't say anything else. You just reached for your hairband, and then turned to San, who was looking up at you with that glitter in his eye—a look you knew all too well. A look he’s given you many times, as well as others—including his best friend.

Your hands brushed against his face, fitting the hairband to keep his silky hair out of your way. He kept his gaze locked on you, and with every movement, his eyes followed.

“Did you enjoy last night?” he asked nonchalantly, a cocky, slightly jealous smirk on those lips of his. “I heard you all the way down the hall.”

You paid no attention to your racing heart, ready to pounce any minute. It brought Wooyoung’s attention, who was sitting in the chair next to him. You didn't even realize he was there. 

You didn't spend the night with San last night, rather it was spent with Wooyoung, a slight mistake because San wasn't available—and Woo looked delicious. 

“Of course I did,” you admitted, mixing the foundations together to get his perfect shade, glancing over at the younger boy who made you come the night before. “It was amazing.”

He let out a chuckle, throwing his head back. You couldn't help but watch as his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Was it better than me?” he purred, looking at you, and then at Wooyoung, who just looked away.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I can.”

Ignoring the obvious answer, you set down the foundation tubes, gathering what you needed onto your hand and dipped the brush into it. You gently painted his face with the foundation, his already perfect skin looking even more flawless than it did before. His eyes pierced through yours, sinfully, as if he could see straight through your clothing. 

Wooyoung couldn't keep his eyes off you, but he knew that messing with San’s toy wasn't a smart choice. It was too late, though, as you now know what wooyoung tastes like. 

San was silent as the time passed while you took your time making him look pretty. The other stylists were done with the others, leaving you alone in the room with him, wooyoung leaving with hesitation.

He parted his lips as you applied a gloss to them, staring into your soul and setting your core on fire. His eyes were narrowed, dusted with black eyeshadow and sparkles. 

You met his gaze. “What?” 

He tilted his head at you as your fingers brushed against his lips. “You're just really fucking hot. Am I not allowed to admire?”

You raised your eyebrows, but you weren't surprised by his words. He probably needed to 

You smirked then, leaning forward as you brushed your thumb over his lips. He let out a breath at your touch, his eyes locked on yours. “You can do more than admire.”

“Oh? Is that an invitation?” he leaned forward now, inches away from your lips. His eyes ignited a fire deep down. How could eyes turn you on? “What kind of invite?”

You shrugged, pulling back to set the lip gloss tube down. San leaned back in the chair, his legs spread wide, begging to be sat on. You looked down at his crotch for a moment too long. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“I can get on my knees now or later,” he said to you, dripping confidence. 

You were lost in his lustful haze. You would be happy to let him kneel for you and mess you up to the point of no return, but you had a job to do—this can wait until later.

“Later, I’ll meet you in your room,” you hummed, pulling off his headband as you finished the look. You nodded your head towards the door. “You should go, everyone else is ready.”

He stood up, towering over you in his platform combat boots. He felt like some sort of god that lived off of worship, and you were going to give it to him. Worship him; his body.

And before he left, he didn't turn around when he said, “And no more wooyoung.”

—

You found yourself in your hotel room as midnight rolled around. San wasn't in his room yet, so you ended up distracting yourself with instant ramen and some TV. 

You watched the clock with all your brain power, watching the arms move slowly and slowly. You couldn't take it anymore when the clock struck 1:45 in the morning, and you threw yourself out of bed to walk down the hall to San’s room.

It was late; no one else was awake to your knowledge. You knocked on his door, a totally different woman than you were when the sun was up. Your knees were already weak before he opened the door, but when he did, he grabbed your arm with a smirk, pulling you into the darkness of his room.

He spared no moment of time, slamming you against the closed door with force.

“I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you,” he groaned in your ear, his lips on your neck and his hands everywhere else. “It’s not fair.”

You let out a moan as he sucked on your neck, his hands piercing into your hips, fingernails like daggers.

“What's not fair?” you asked breathlessly.

He didn't let you say anything else. He was already shirtless, but began to claw at yours, pulling at the edges. 

“That wooyoung got to be inside you.”

Your core twinged, sending pressure between your legs at those words. You began to wonder if he was jealous—or just territorial. It would make sense for him to only have you to himself, but only in bed and nowhere else. You liked it that way, it was less of a headache to share a physical relationship rather than emotional.

“Jealous?” you teased, your hands trailing down the waistband of his boxers, gripping his hard on. He gasped, as if you've never done it before, and shoved you harder into the door.

You were sure everyone would hear you. 

You bared your teeth, biting his bottom lip as he tried to answer through his arousal.

“I,” he breathed, moaning as you sucked on his lip. “I’m the only one you can fuck,” His words were like fire on ice. You gulped, arching your body into him as his talented hands pulled your shirt off. “No one else can know how you taste.”

You gasped for air the minute his lips touched your breasts, his hand gripping it with force, his other hand on your ass.

“What if wooyoung does?” you mumbled out, trying to stir him up. It pleased you even more to see him disheveled over you. 

He kissed your nipple, then your chest, and up your neck. All you saw was red.

“Never again,” he moaned, lips on yours now. His forehead clashed with yours, his eyes open to stare into your soul. “Your body is mine.”

You didn't care that he didn't love you. You didn't care that he only liked you for your body, because you felt the same way for him. His temple was there for worship, so you would become a believer. 

Just as you were going to make love with your mouth, San was ahead of you. He gripped your hair, tightly, roughly, and pushed you to the ground. You peered up at him through your messy hair, his fingers still tangled in the strands.

“Suck me off.” he demanded, his lips parted and breathless already. It was already a pleasure to see you below him. Your fingertips grazed his sides, sliding down his underwear to his ankles. He kicked them off quickly, his dick pulsing for your touch. With his hands still in your hair, he shoved you into his length, causing you to moan immediately from his actions.

He was huge—bigger than most of your previous partners. Wooyoung was also big, But there was something about San that made you dream of everything. He made you come at the thought of him, wet dreams enveloping your mind.

As you drew your tongue along his tip, he grunted, almost crying out in an orgasm. You smiled as he cried out, taking pleasure in his sudden reaction. He may be skilled, but you were able to make him come with a single lick.

“Slow down.” he hissed, pulling you off him. You tumbled back slightly, noticing the pained look on his face. He was holding his orgasm in, almost as if he was embarrassed that it was almost over.

“San—”

He interrupted you by picking you up, gripping the back of your knees, lifting you over to the bed. He tossed you, harshly—with such force to knock the wind out of you.

He stood over the bed, looking down on you. You were experienced; a nightmare for vulnerable men. San was, in fact, the opposite of vulnerable. His toxicity felt like purity, his devilish gaze felt angelic. You complimented each other, bodies crashing, limbs intertwining, and you couldn't get enough of it.

He looked down at you for a moment, paying close attention to the curve of your hips. His finger glided down your side, his body begging to be inside you.

He crawled on top of you, grabbing your hips to position you on your back. Your ass pressed against his cock, feeling the slight drip of precum. “Your body is perfect,” he praised, unable to keep his hands off you. His fingertips dancing down your spine. 

Before he forced himself inside you, he had to take some time, worried that he would reach his high before he got to enjoy more. His lips brushed your back, from the beginning of your neck to the curve of your bones. His hands gripped your ass like his life depended on it, and as he entered you, he held your hands over your head, pinning you to the mattress under his weight.

“Ah,” he hissed as he pumped into you, moving slowly, but rough. “You take me so well, baby.”

You felt yourself flood at his words—he always knew how to get you going. His hand met the back of your head, slamming it into the pillow, while his other one kept him upright. You gripped the duvet in your hands, nearly tearing the fabric as you suffocated in his power.

He slapped your ass, causing you to cry out in a moan. You arch your back even farther, sending him into a fit of breathlessness, him gasping for air through groans and whispers of your name, dangling off his lips like the unspoken bond between you two.

You moved as he moved, rhythmically, sinfully, artistically.  His teeth pierced into your shoulder to muffle his moans, begging you without words to react. You moaned his name, he pushed into you, his hips rocking, eyes closing. He was one within you,  pulsing through you, hearts beating at the same time. There wasn't an ounce of romanticism—no love, no string of fate. You needed him in one way, and it was enough. 

“You're so wet, babygirl,” he flushed, sweat dripping from both your bodies, the sweet smell of sex taking over your senses. “All for me.”

You shook in your high, your muscles tight and heartbeat racing. With your vision fading at the edges, you shut your eyes tight, moaning out his name, craving to ride him like no tomorrow—He had other plans for tonight; he always needed to be in control.

“Jesus fucking christ y/n,” he let out a groan, his hand fisting your throat. You gasped for air, but him choking you sent your body over the edge, seeing stars and lines dancing in your hazy vision. 

He moved quicker, but still amazingly well. His movements were smooth, his expression hidden behind you. He noticed your struggle to reach the end, and flipped you over without pulling out, lifting one leg and tossing it onto his shoulder

He now preyed on you as if he were about to attack, and as he began to thrust again, harder and harder each time, his fingers brushed your clit—finding it immediately. You moaned, hands still above your head despite the lack of force holding them. 

“Your hand..” you hummed, unable to see or speak clearly. “Your hand feels so much better than mine.”

You must've set him on fire, because the minute he processed those words, he tossed his head back, locks of black hair sticking to his forehead. His teeth were clenched and eyes were shut tight, letting your name fall off his lips. 

You weren't sure how long this lasted—time became nothing but a number to you. He tossed you around like a ragdoll, spending the night as a pillow princess when you normally took the reins. San’s presence was stronger, overpowering your tasteful skills, ruling your body as if he were a king. He made you come all over his dick, wetness surging below. He chuckled cockily as you came, slowing his movements, but you saw he was about to reach his high, too.

“Let me cum in you.” he huskily whined, his head pressed against yours. It wasn't a question, it was a demand. You had no qualms with being filled in his arousal, nodding into the mattress, unable to speak. 

He fucked you deeply, letting out shaky breaths and sighs. When he came, his head clashed against yours, his hands caging you in on the sides of your head. You felt warmth radiate your core—a thick, smooth feeling took over your senses, and he stared down at your naked, sweating body.

His chest heaved, the moonlight peaking through the lush curtains, hitting his side like stardust. He pulled out of you then, slowly—much more gentle than a minute before. 

His eyes were on yours, his lips curved upwards. “Was that better than wooyoung?” He arrogantly interrogated, knowing damn well what the answer was.

You laid there in a daze, his body still over yours. You breathed in the air of his room, feeling as high as a kite. “Mhm,” you acknowledged, closing your eyes. Usually you left immediately, giving each other space without ties, but you were so tired out from his intensity.

His eyes softened, nothing more, nothing less. He moved off you then lay next to you, something he never did before. There was usually no aftercare; no need for it. He hesitated, not knowing what to do with his arms as you laid still, uneven breaths becoming uniformed. You weren't asleep yet, but you were on the verge.

He scrunched his eyebrows, studying your soft features and smooth lips. Finally, just before you fell into the darkness, his hand brushed away the stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear. You felt his gaze without seeing it, and to your surprise, he did something completely out of the ordinary.

He kissed your forehead—just a peck—and continued to lie next to you, holding back his touch even if he’s invaded every part of your body.

2:00 am became three. Three became six. Six became eight. You woke up next to him, warm in his distant yet comfortable embrace.

This was all you needed.

—

BONUS

—

“I didn't get any sleep last night,” Hongjoong groaned, looking between San and Wooyoung. He smirked, noticing them both look away from his authoritative expression. 

“Yeah me neither, Someone was getting their shit rocked. For HOURS.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“What can I say,” San clicked his tongue, baring that devilish smile of his. “Prepare for another night of no sleep because she’s in my bed right now.”

“She was in my bed the other day,” wooyoung shrugged, his lips in a frown. 

“And mine last week,” Yunho cackled, unable to hold in the laughter as he saw San’s harsh glare. “I’m kidding. Kidding. Maybe.”

With one last look around his bandmates, he gave a knowing look around the dressing room. 

“She won't be in anyone else’s room from now on.” He said, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s mine.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #choi san #choi san smut #choi san fanfic #oneshot #san smut #ateez wooyoung #idol au #fwb au #toxic

[hanjsquokka]

The Phantoms - [ 3RACHA ]

🎙 SYNOPSIS : A lovely independent home in the suburbs of Seoul at a low cost? You didn't question it until you found out the house came along with three extremely confused ghosts.

GENRE : ghosts, music band, rockstar, hip-hop, non idol au!

PAIRING : 3racha × fem!reader, han jisung × fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING : will contain swearing, slightly mature content such as smoke, weed, alcohol, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), angst, confused 3racha, ghosts, underwordly stuff (idk). This is highly inspired by the show Julie and The Phantoms!

EP 01 - you made the whole room fucking pink: moving into a new house had it's pros and cons. pros, you finally had a new place to stay in without the lady next door complaining about how loud you played your music or listen to the news from the old man who lived upstairs at four in the morning. cons, three ghosts could inhabit said house, scaring both you and themselves. but who were these ghosts and why did they dress like they were from a 2000's sitcom?

WORD COUNT : 3.5K words

TAGLIST : @leefelex @stayconnecteed @lovestay-channie @cutiebin @johnnysgirl @naomisosoup @xerces00 @autumn-lv @chalahyung01 @vampcharxter @lolareadsimagines @skzruby (comment below if you want to be added to the taglist!)

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The air was electric. Jisung could feel it in his veins as they went through soundcheck. The mic in his hands, the music in his ears, Chan and Changbin right by his side- he felt like he was on top of this world. The tunes were engraved into his mind as he rapped alongside his band mates, adrenaline pumping throughout his body.

“That was amazing.” Chan said with a big smile once they finished. “So we'll start with Matryoshka and then go with Double Knot and Hoodie Season.”

“I can't believe we're going to perform in the music festival tonight.” Changbin said excitedly as they began to pack away their things.

Jisung was also excited, he was practically jumping with enthusiasm. Everything they sacrificed, all those nights they spent writing song after song, recording and producing them all on their own- everything would be worth it in a few hours. Their dream of being a hip hop group since they were in high school was finally coming true. It's been so many years, Jisung thought nostalgically, we've come so far.

“We should get something to eat. To celebrate.” Jisung suggested.

“We should get some eomuk. That shit is heavenly.” Changbin agreed, grabbing his stuff.

They found themselves walking down the streets lined with food vendors and went to the one that was selling fish cakes.

“Tonight is going to change our lives guys.” Chan said (sappily) and they started eating.

There was a… weird taste to the fish cakes.

“That's a new flavor.” Jisung muttered, but still continued eating. The last thing he remembered was people suddenly panicking before everything went black.

You nearly screamed with happiness when you found this house. You were finally starting a new chapter in your life, putting whatever happened in the past behind you and turning over a new leaf. The landlord told you that the house was previously owned by some bachelors, but he didn't tell you when they owned it. Everything in the house was covered by a thick layer of dust and cobwebs everywhere. Whoever lived there before clearly left in a hurry because almost everything a bachelor could own was still in the house- including a lot of music instruments.

With the help of your friends, Seungmin and Jeongin, you had almost officially moved into the place. Seungmin even offered to help you get rid of the instruments and equipment saying he knew some people who were producers but you declined.

“You know you could earn quite a bit of money if you sell those.” Seungmin told you one day, while you were sitting in the coffee shop Jeongin worked part time in. You met both of them in college- Seungmin was in the same year as you and Jeongin was a year younger but you all had one thing in common- your music major. College was a weird time for you. You spontaneously switched your major from Computer Science to Music mid semester in your second year and undertook Computer Science as a minor, not wanting to lose it completely.

Seungmin and Jeongin were there… during a very difficult time of your life. They're what your mother would call friends for life. And they truly were. Despite their jokes and teasing, you knew they cared deeply for you. Honestly, you were a mess when you met them. The girl that was mourning over the death of her mother for two years until she realized she didn't want to distance herself from everything her mother cherished- music. The first thing that ever came to mind when you thought about her was music. Your childhood days were filled with piano lessons and guitar classes, singing along to every song in a musical, singing in a school festival, piano recitals and so much more. And it wasn't like you were forced to do it. You loved every single second you spent with your mom. She was the light of your life, your own little superhero.

When she passed away three years ago, a large part of you died along with her. For two years, you couldn't bring yourself to touch an instrument. Because whenever you did, you could see the smile your mother would've had, the gentle hand on your shoulder and she told you how wonderfully you've grown up. It killed you.

But one day, after your very first frat party and you had a little too much alcohol, you stumbled into your dorm room and picked up that acoustic guitar you had tucked away into the depths of your closet. For some reason, you brought it along with you to college. And you played. You played your favorite song- the very first song your mother ever taught you to play on the guitar. And it felt so good.

The next morning, your roommate Hyunjae started to gush over your little drunken solo that you honestly had no memory of until she told you. She sat down with you and told you that you shouldn't waste so much talent in something like Computer Science. On a whim, you went to the administration department and it was history from there.

“Relax Min, I'll do something with them.” You said as you drank your frappuccino. “I haven't even started on the basement yet. I'll… start to clean it out this weekend.”

“Or you could use the equipment and start writing your own songs, like you wanted to.” Jeongin said, pulling another chair up to the table. “Come on Y/n, that song you wrote for the college fest was amazing! And it's been…” He started counting on his fingers, “two years since then! You graduated a year ago and I'm graduating this year… you should start putting that talent to use.”

“Writing my own songs? For what? Boy bands?”

“If that interests you.” Someone called the younger boy from the counter. “All I'm saying is, don't go wasting your skills.” And with that, he got up and went back to work.

For the rest of the week, Jeongin's words sat in your brain. When the weekend finally arrived, you decided you would tackle the basement- which seemed to be the place in the whole house where people seemed to have lived in. The house upstairs had the bare minimum everywhere but the basement had everything. Sofas were placed in one corner and there was music equipment everywhere else. Mics, speakers, a guitar hung on the wall- it was like a musician’s paradise. There were some things that seemed… out of time? Like a DVD player from twenty years ago, a bookshelf with physical albums, a really really old iPhone with earphones still plugged into it.

You looked around the room more, finding a single photo frame hung on a corner near a desk next to a faded leaflet about some music festival. It was of three young boys, probably in their twenties. The one in the middle had the biggest smile on, his arms over the shoulders of the other two. He had black hair and a friendly twinkle in his eyes. The one on his right was flexing one of his arms (which was ripped- wow) and a cheeky grin on his face. The one on the other side had a small smile on his face and made a peace sign. They looked so… happy. You wondered what happened to them to make them leave this house like this.

As you began cleaning, you didn't have the heart to throw out the photo. The equipment was also hard to discard. Most of it was in pretty good shape even though it was left here for almost twenty years.

Cleaning the basement and finishing up the rest of the house took a while. You were doing it on and off for almost three weeks, driving there straight after work, staying until you finished what you planned to do that day before heading back to your apartment that you shared with Hyunjae (yeah, you two were still pretty close even after college and got a flat together). Seungmin suggested you finish by the end of this week and you could have a small party with your friends from college and some of his friends from his job.

“Wow, this place really did a one-eighty since the last time I saw it.” Jeongin said as him and Seungmin walked into the house. They were helping you move out the old stuff that you stashed in boxes in the basement. “How did you manage to do all this in a month?”

“Perseverance. Also Netflix has a lot of shows on house makeovers.”

“Of course you watched those.” Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“Hey, this place wouldn't be this amazing if I didn't.” You lead them through the living room and to the door which lead downstairs. This room was by far your favorite in the entire house. You took Jeongin's advice and kept the instruments and decided to whip up your own little studio. You weren't quite ready to sing one your own yet. But you do know that one of Min's friends (his name was Felix or something?) was looking for a producer. You told Seungmin to invite him to the party you were holding next weekend, hoping that maybe you could pursue a job you actually liked instead of sitting in front of a computer the whole day working for a man who didn't give two shits if you was overworked or not.

“This is sick, Y/n!” Jeongin exclaimed as he looked around. The other boy had a smile on his face as well.

“Yeah. I'm going forward in the best way possible.” You smiled.

A few days later, you found yourself in the studio (you started calling the basement that), looking through the collections of CDs lining the shelves. Apart from other artists, there were a lot that looked like they were compositions of those boys from the photograph. You came across three names very frequently- CB97, SpearB and J.One, which you guessed were their names in their band called 3RACHA. You wondered where those boys were now… if they succeeded in music, if they were still friends or if they broke apart and went their separate ways.

A CD with Double Knot (Prod. CB97) written on it with permanent marker caught your eye and you decided to give it a go and listen to it and put it in the DVD player as you cleaned. The song started, a hip hop tune filling the silence of the basement. You were never really into hip hop, but you had to admit these three were talented at rapping. There was a weird scream that increased in sound playing with the rapping, which made you furrow your brows because it was playing over the rapping as the seconds went by. Maybe they were a hard rock metal band? The screaming got louder and louder, making you cover your ears until there was a flash and three boys landed in the middle of the room.

What the fuck?

You blinked.

What the actual fuck?

The boys groaned as they turned and got up. They were wearing clothes like people did in 2000's sitcoms- which was all the rage now but something told you that they weren't following the current trend in fashion.

Scary thing was… they looked strangely familiar.

You made eye contact with the one standing in the middle and with a shock, you realized who it was you screamed. And in turn, they started screaming, jumping away from where you were as the two on the side clutched onto the one in the middle. Frightened and confused, you ran past them and went upstairs.

“Okay. Maybe Min was right. I've been inhaling too much paint these days.” You panted, trying to catch my breath. “I didn't see those guys from the picture. I didn't see those guys from the picture.” You kept saying that as you walked back downstairs but you yelped when you saw them looking around the place.

One of them stepped forward, raising his hands carefully. “Okay-”

“Oh my fucking god.” You gripped onto the railing of the stairs.

“We're all a little confused here-”

“Yeah. Like for starters- what the fuck did you do to our studio?” One of the other guys interrupted. You recognized him as the guy with the small smile from the photo. This is not happening. “You made the whole room… fucking pink.” He stepped in front of the other guy who was desperately trying to hold him back. He was dressed in a hoodie and ripped jeans. A dog tag necklace hung around his neck and he had a couple of earrings on both his ears- which strangely looked very good on him. His dark hair was tousled, adding to his charm and if wasn't currently yelling at you, you would've found him cute.

“It's my house, I can do whatever I want with it.” You shot back. The confusion and fear washed away and was replaced by annoyance.

“It's not your house!-”

“Okay-” The calm guy held back the one currently accusing you of painting the room pink (it was supposed to be beige but you accidently dropped some red paint in it). “Changbin, hold onto Jisung real quick.” The last one nodded and dragged the one named Jisung further back into the room. “Sorry about that.” He let out an awkward chuckle. “You're awfully calm.”

“Why should I freak out? It's not like the three guys from the picture on the wall appeared in my basement. Nothing to freak out about there.”

He clicked his tongue. “Ah, sarcasm.” He chuckled again. You took in his appearance again. He was dressed in casual- flannel with a white t-shirt underneath and a jacket on top, a beanie on his head and small hoops adorning his ears. “But in all honesty, I have no idea what's going on either.”

“Yeah. We were having some fish cakes in the shopping center downtown.” The muscle man- Changbin you believed, spoke. “I can't believe the last thing I ate before I died was fucking eomuk.” He cursed. He was dressed in complete black- a black shirt that did nothing to hide his muscular physique loosely tucked into his black pants.

You held your breath. “So you guys are ghosts? I'm not hallucinating?”

“I think we died from food poisoning.” The one with the beanie said.

“All three of you? At the same time?”

“It was a celebratory thing. Not the food poisoning. Last night was supposed to be a really big night for us. It was supposed to change our lives.”

“Pretty sure it did.” Changbin quipped.

“Life is a dick and we just had to die two hours before the biggest performance of our entire lives.” You were beginning to think you misjudged Jisung from the photo. He was not a shy introvert.

“Last night?” Those two words caught your attention. “I bought this house a month ago and even then, it's been empty for two decades.”

A bewildered expression formed on the one in front. “A month ago? Decades? What? We were here just yesterday!”

“What do you mean?” You looked at them with a puzzled expression.

“After we floated out of the ambulance, we went to that weird dark room where Jisung cried for like an hour.”

“Did not!”

“But it was just for an hour. We just got here.”

“Okay… I don't know what's happening… but you guys died twenty years ago.” You pulled out your phone and googled their band (which you thought you should've done before instead of sitting and thinking what happened to these guys like some philosopher) and showed them the proof. “You died in 2003. It's 2023 now.”

“This is not happening.” The beanie guy said and shook his head in denial.

“So it's been twenty years.” The hot-head, Jisung, spoke. “I was crying for twenty fucking years?”

“You can get a bit emotional sometimes-” Changbin pointed out.

“Shut up!”

“Okay!” You said loudly, interrupting their bickering. “Look… I'm sorry about what happened to you guys. Truly. But this is my studio now. I spent almost my entire savings on this house. I can't…” Your voice cracked. “I'm not…” You let out a groan of frustration. “What I'm saying is, this is my home now. And I'm going to have people over this weekend and I'm not planning to scare off my friends.”

“L-Look. Just give us a second, yeah?” The beanie guy cleared his throat. “My name's Bang Chan… you can call me Chan, if you'd like to.” He bowed lightly in greeting.

“I'm Changbin.” The muscle guy bowed, forcing the other guy to do the same by bending his head forward. “And this menace is Jisung.”

“Y/n.” I said.

“You're not gonna kick us out-”

Before Chan could finish his sentence, the basement door flung open and down came Jeongin holding a glass dish. “You should really start locking your front door.” You froze, along with the three ghosts. What was Jeongin going to think when he saw three guys in your basement so late at night? “Who were you talking to?”

Did he not… “I was on the phone… with my coworker. I was inviting her… to the party this weekend.” You said slowly. You couldn't really tell if Jeongin truly didn't see 3RACHA or if he was thinking of a way to ask you.

“That's nice. Hyunjae asked me to drop this over here since her shift was taking too long.” He raised the dish in his hand. “It's your favorite kimchi.”

“Oh… Thank you Jeongin.”

“You sure you're alright, Y/n?”

“I'm fine.” You clambered up the stairs, pulling the boy along with me. “Long day, that's all.”

“Stressed about the party?” Jeongin asked once you were in the kitchen.

“I asked Seungmin to invite his friend… Felix.”

“Oh yeah, that guy. You plan on producing for him?”

“I would like to. He's super talented though, so I'm kind of nervous about it.” You would've focused on talking with Jeongin except for the fact that the three ghosts appeared in the living room, making you freeze in your spot. You still didn't know if you were the only person who could see them. Maybe he could hear them?

“You're underestimating yourself. You're good at this. Making music. You're going to be our producer with I convince Seungmin to finally form that duo we've been talking about for years.”

You chuckled awkwardly, your eyes darting from the ghosts to Jeongin. “I definitely will…”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Okay, I'll get out of your hair now. Don't forget to lock the door behind me. And call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Once the door was locked securely, you whipped your head around but the ghosts weren't there anymore. You found them back in the basement. Somehow, they were moving their equipment around which wasn't supposed to be possible since, well, they were ghosts.

“How are you doing that?” You asked hesitantly.

“Don't question the laws of ghostly physics.” Chan said jokingly, pointing a mic at you.

“Don't mind us. We're just going play for a little. Pick up where we left off yesterday- er, twenty years ago?- Never mind.” Changbin shook his head and continued fiddling with the DVD player. Jisung stayed quite the entire time. It was totally opposite to how he was earlier. He worked in silence, looking through the shelves as if he was checking if you threw away any part of his collection. “We're not disturbing you, right?”

“I guess not…” You swallowed. “But just keep it down. I've had a long day and I need to rest.”

“Don't worry. We won't interrupt your beauty sleep.” Jisung said snarkily.

“You could try being nice for once, you know? I met you not one hour ago and all you've done is be rude.” You said pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well sorry. You had a bad day. I had a bad twenty years.” He stepped closer until he was an inch away from your face. “I was so close to achieving the one thing I wanted to do in life and I lost it in the blink of an eye.” He looked away, clenching his jaw. “I need air.” He suddenly disappeared, making me jump back a little in surprise.

“Jisung… isn't usually like that.” Chan spoke after a moment. “He's actually pretty nice. He just needs a little time to gather his thoughts.”

“I hope so.” You nodded. “The couch isn't that comfortable to sleep in, so I'll get you something to sleep on- if- if you still do that. And you can use the bathroom upstairs, if you'd like.”

“That's really nice of you. Thank you, Y/n.” Chan smiled.

“This is… really weird.” You shook your head and went back upstairs. Maybe you'd wake up and realize it was all a really long lucid dream you had.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : yes i had to bring back the pre-debut menace sksjsks it just fit in so well with the story. let me know your thoughts in the comments <3

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

#han jisung #skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz scenarios #bang chan #changbin #han jisung fluff #bang chan fluff #changbin fluff #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #han jisung x you #han jisung scenarios #changbin imagines #changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin scenarios #seo changbin #christopher bang #julie and the phantoms #3racha #3racha x reader #( 🎤 ⸻ my works / 3racha )

[shellshocklove]

blurb: i want to forget | tom holland

pairing/AU: university AU - modern king!tom holland x female!reader

summary: your last encounter with the King has left you in quite the pickle.

warnings: swearing, mentions of vomiting, abortion, blood

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is the last post-epilogue blurb. this is their ending. it makes me really happy that people have enjoyed this story so much. like beyond happy:( i’m still open to do blurbs pre-epilogue for them, but i’ll only do them if i get a request. if not this will be the last thing i write for them. also full disclosure: i’m not british, which means idk if this is accurate portrayal of a british school. so, if it’s not, then please excuse that lmao

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You’re so fucking stupid.

So incredibly stupid.

A cold crept up your back as you leaned against the tiled wall of your bathroom. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried to stave off the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You shouldn’t have gone to the reunion. But when The Vice-Chancellor of your old university calls you personally, basically begging you to attend – what were you supposed to do? And you definitely shouldn’t have drunk so much wine, but the servers kept pouring it, and every time you’d looked at Tom, he’d looked a little rosier.

You missed him. Missed him every day. The painful look on his face as you’d left the palace, right after he became king, haunted you every day. You hated being the one to hurt him. But he hurt you, too.

Why did he have to want to see you? Make someone else beg you to be there. And why did you say yes? Why did you need to see him just as badly?

“Soo,” Tom had started, digging into his scallop entrée, “how’s life?”.

You’d giggled in response, sending him a ‘Are you serious right now?’ look, before taking a bite of your own entrée.

“What?” he’d faked innocence, “I’m only making conversation– can’t I do that?” he’d shrugged.

You’d giggled again, “No, you can”. You took another bite, buying yourself some time before you’d answered, “Life’s good, I guess? No complaints at this point in time”. Except the constant longing for someone you can’t have.

“At this point in time? So… there was a time where you had complaints?” he’d queried, with a worried kink in his eyebrow.

“Don’t we all have difficult periods in our life?” you’d mused, trying to keep your face from revealing too much. He didn’t need to know how heartbroken you’d been after his wedding. He’d moved on… and so should you.

“Yeah…” he’d agreed, eyes drilling into his plate, “we do”.

You’d felt your body fall at his tone. He’d given you a rare peek into his psyche. A look into a beaten king.

“What about you?” you’d asked softly, “You doing okay?”. You’d wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort him, but you didn’t.

A weak smile spread across his face before he’d nodded, “Yeah… I’m fine” he’d said unconvincingly. Then he’d cleared his throat changing the topic before the conversation got too personal,

“Are you still working at that primary school?”.

“No,” you’d shook your head, “I teach sixth form now– history A-levels”.

“Really?” he’d perked up, a smile ghosting over his face.

“Yeah,” you’d chuckled, “shaping the future or whatever”.

“Good for you, darling!” he’d smiled with moony eyes, “Do you like it?”.

“I actually do– teenagers can be…” you’d given him a look which made him laugh, “but the pay is better, and maybe it’s silly, but I really feel like I’m making a difference!”.

“It’s not silly– you’re not silly” he’d reassured you.

You’d felt your heart swell in your chest and grow two sizes. He had to stop doing that to you. You shouldn’t be pining for a married man.

“Well…” you’d started, tongue kissing your teeth, “We can’t all be kings and run multiple charities” you’d shrugged, teasing.

Your words made him giggle, before he’d shot you a teasing side eye.

You hated how easy you’d gotten swept up in conversation with Tom. How easy it was to forget everything around you. The world blurring at the edges like a vignette, as Tom took centrefold in your life again.

It had felt like it did all those years ago. An ease between you, one you’ve never felt with anyone else. He pulled away all your restraints – and you let him. How could you not? When his touch felt like buzzing electricity against your skin. And his kiss burned your lips with longing. Everything felt right with him. Every worry, and all guilt went quiet.

And you hated yourself for it. It was eating away at you. Growing inside of you alongside something else.

Two lines. Pregnant.

You couldn’t even look at the test. It only made you want to cry. You were pregnant with the King of England’s baby. How could you be so stupid?

You couldn’t stop the scenarios from flashing behind your eyes. Tom standing over a crib, a loving smile on his face as he watched over your sleeping baby. Or Tom with his hands reaching out to your toddler taking their first wobbling steps towards him. Birthday parties and first days of school. Holidays and road trips. Fights, and first loves and first heartbreaks. Growing your family and growing old together.

Wrapping your hands around your stomach you allowed a sob to escape you, echoing against the tiles.

“Love? You feeling okay? You look a little green” Mr. Khan asked you as he plopped down beside you in the corner sofa of the teacher’s lounge.

“I feel a little green” you admitted and sunk deeper into the pillows.

Morning sickness, you’d realised, had been wrongly named. It should’ve just been called sickness because that’s how you felt all the time. Sick. Morning, day, and night.

If your calculations were right, you were only about two months along. To have it confirmed, you had a doctor’s appointment later, after your last class of the day. You didn’t look forward to it. You obviously needed an abortion, sooner rather than later, but it was an awfully hard decision to make.

Maybe it serves you right to suffer. This was the consequences of your actions. Of being the other woman.

In a way, you wanted and didn’t want Tom to know. He should know about his baby, his child – it’s only right he knows. But… how would he react? Would he be happy? Sad? Angry? Would he blame you for being irresponsible? Would he blame himself? Your head and heart hurt thinking about it. But the choice was taken from you, and from him. You had no way of contacting him. No phone number, no email, nothing.

“Want me to get you anything?” Rhys asked, rubbing a friendly hand on your shoulder, “I could get you a Coke from the machine?”.

“That would be great– thank you Rhys!” you smiled weakly.

Mr. Rhys Khan, maths teacher, and probably your best friend at work (or maybe just your only friend. You didn’t go out much). He was only two years older than you, which made him easy for you to gravitate too when you’d started working here a year ago. The rest of the staff was pushing fifty, and sometimes it was nice to speak to someone who wasn’t a moody teenager, or a middle-aged man educating you on proper lawn maintenance. You didn’t even own a house. Only renting a shitty flat, in what would probably be classified as a not so good neighbourhood. Rhys was a welcomed sight, and it didn’t hurt that he was funny, and kind, and… good looking.

“Here you go M'lady” he cracked open the can for you, “One of our finest Cokes straight from our cellar”.

You didn’t think you had it in you to laugh in your state, but you did. He handed you the can and sat down beside you again. He watched you as you took a small sip.

“Better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“After one sip?”

“Yeah! I cast a spell over it on my way back– it’s supposed to make you feel better in an instant” he said.

“Thank you, Rhys!” you gave him a meek, but grateful smile before taking another sip. His hand came down to rub at your shoulder again.

“Are you sure you’re okay though? As beautiful as you are, you really don’t look well” he said, concern coating his words.

You didn’t have time to answer – your words cut off by the headmaster, Mr. White, entering the teacher’s lounge with a booming voice.

“Thank you all for coming to this lunch meeting!” he clapped his hands, making sure to get everybody’s attention. “I’m gonna keep it short and sweet, ok guys!? I know we all have lunches to eat, and emails to reply to, and classes to prepare.”.

This man was too enthusiastic for his own good.

“I have an announcement!” he said solemnly. Pressing his lips together you didn’t know if he wanted to create suspense – he didn’t – or if he was psyching himself up to deliver bad news.

“I’ve called this meeting to inform you all that next week we’ll be visited by the King and Queen!”

The news sunk like a stone in water. You were gonna be sick. Nervously you shifted forward in your seat. A hand wrapping around your waist, as the other held your Coke can in a shaky grip.

“They’re here with their charity– who we all know contributes funds to our school. There will be press, and the royal couple wants to visit every class– so let’s all make sure that we’ve prepared our pupils for the visit, before then. I will be sending out an email with more information, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions! That was it guys! Let’s get back to our lunch!”.

You flinched as Mr. White clapped his hands again – signalling all his staff to get back to work. Rhys rubbed your back soothingly. Unaware of your panicked heart.

You were definitely going to be sick.

“Good morning, everybody!” your voice cut through the steady hum of conversation filling the classroom.

You got a few ‘good morning’s back from your pupils, which you honestly looked at as a win. Some days you didn’t even get a ‘hello’. But it was early, and they were teenagers – when you looked back at yourself at seventeen – you were glad you’d never be seventeen again. So, you gave them a pass.

As your pupils settled in their seats you got your computer ready with today’s PowerPoint.

“As you all know,” you started, taking a deep breath, “We have some very special guests coming later. A royal visit. That means that the rest of the day will be a little different, and after lunch you’re all free to go home”.

The promise of school being out, got a few cheers. It made you chuckle before you clicked to the next slide on your presentation, showing the plan for the day.

“We started working through our curriculum on the British monarchy a few weeks ago, you guys remember we talked about Queen Victoria last week?” you got a few nods.

“Anyone remember how long her reign was?” you asked, looking at your half-asleep pupils.

In the front, a hand shot up in the air. It was Louis. He was kind of a history nerd, and your most devoted pupil. He got picked on by the others a lot and you tried your best to look out for him a little extra.

“Yes, Louis?”

“Sixty-three years, seven months and two days” he answered dutifully.

In the back of the classroom, you heard a snicker. You decided to ignore it for now.

“That’s right, Louis! And her reign is known as the Victorian era. She became queen when she was very young! She was only eighteen years old– can you guys imagine that? She was only a year older than you are now. She has that in common with our king– King Thomas. He was only twenty-four when he became king” you tried to keep your face neutral when you talked about him, but it was hard. It felt weird talking about him like you didn’t know him, not when you were carrying his baby in your belly.

“Ms. y/l/n” a hand shot up in the back. It was Fatima.

“Yes, Fatima?”

“Why do we need to be visited by the king and queen? They’re colonisers and I don’t understand why we’re celebrating them!?” she said.

“That’s very true, Fatima! Great point– and we’ll be talking more about this topic next week…” you paused for a second before you continued, “To be completely honest with you– the reason they’re here today is because one of their charities supports our school. It’s because of money, like so much else in this world. I understand your concern– I really do, but there’s nothing I can do about it unfortunately”.

“So, even if we don’t want to meet them– we have to?” she countered.

You stepped around your desk to lean against it. “I’m not gonna force you to do anything– I completely understand wanting to not meet them” you understood more than anything actually, “but I can’t promise the same from Mr. White” you gave her a beaten smile.

“That is such bullshit!” she said.

You stepped back behind your desk, “That is very true, Fatima!”.

You continued going through the plan for the day, trying your best to tie what you’d already talked about, about the British monarchy, into Tom and the modern monarchy. You quickly went through the etiquette of meeting a member of the royal family (this was extremely important that you go through, according to Mr. White).

“The King and Queen will be arriving soon,” you glanced quickly at the clock over the door, “then we’ll all gather in the auditorium where the King will be holding a speech, and then after that we’ll all go back here, and they’ll visit each class. I’m not sure what they’ll do– but I’m guessing they’ll greet you all, and ask you guys a few questions, and maybe answer some if you have them. After that you can all go home for the day. That sound alright?” you finished.

You got a few nods.

“Okay, then– let’s clean up in here and walk together to the auditorium”

Leaning back against the wall, standing on the stairs of your school’s auditorium, reality hit you.

Your stomach actually hurt. Nerves travelled through you like electricity all the way to your fingertips. You were sure that if you were unlucky enough, you’d meet the eyes of Queen Genevieve, and she’d know what you’d done. Scared you’d look like a guilty puppy after being caught making a mess.

“You excited?” Mr. Khan said over your shoulder, startling you. He stood on the step above you with a wide grin, teeth bared, as you turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“Would it be treason to say no?” you whispered in his ear.

He laughed, barely noticeable over the high-volumed conversation, “Probably!”.

“What did you say your dad called the monarchy again?” he asked, leaning back against the wall like you did.

“A fascist regime” you recalled, “After the Sex–”.

He cut you off, remembering with a nod, “After the Sex Pistols song”.

“God,” he started, “I would’ve loved to see King Thomas’ face if you told him that” he laughed.

You felt your body freeze to ice at his words. “Wh–What do you mean?” you stuttered out.

“Later, when they’re visiting our classrooms– how do you think he’d react if you told him that” he continued laughing.

Letting out a nervous chuckle, you said “Oh… I don’t know– maybe he’d find it refreshing to hear?”.

A memory flicked before your eyes for a second. You and Tom in your room – when he’d visited your flat for the first time. The night you had your first kiss. You knew for a fact he found it refreshing. It was the reason he’d kissed you. You didn’t dare linger on that memory too long. It made your stomach hurt even more. A sharp stabbing pain, moving from your front to your lower back.

It made you wince, and Rhys noticed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern coating his tongue.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I–I just have a stomach ache” you explained.

“Again? You need to get that checked out, love!”.

You gave him a meek smile. Maybe you should tell him you were pregnant. It wouldn’t matter either way if he knew – you had the date for your abortion scheduled already.

“Settle down, settle down– LIAM! SIT DOWN!” you heard the voice of one of your colleagues. You pushed yourself off the wall, sending Rhys a sorry smile for having your conversation cut short before you joined your colleagues in quieting down your pupils.

A moment later, your heart stopped as you watched him walk through the auditorium door, with his wife on his arm. Beside them, they were escorted by the headmaster Mr. White. The room went quiet immediately.

You leaned back against the wall again beside Rhys, trying to steady yourself. Tom looked as handsome as ever, and you ached. That wound in your heart ripped open again. Instinctively, a hand came down to rest over your belly, soothing both yourself and your baby.

Dragging your eyes away from him, they landed on his wife, Queen Genevieve. She looked stunning. Her hair was perfectly curled, bouncing with every step she took. Her make-up was smooth and spotless. She was wearing the most beautiful dress that fit her perfectly. You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d ever seen in you. He’s married to the most perfect woman in the world. Her smile shone like diamonds as she waved to the pupils.

Mr. White escorted them to the front row, where two seats had been picked out just for them. Carefully, Tom helped Queen Genevieve sit. He treated her like she was made of glass, asking her if she was okay, if you read his lips correctly. After her affirmative nod, he stood up straighter and gave a wave to the audience before Mr. White led him up the stairs to the stage.

He waved again as he walked with sure steps to the middle of the stage. He was clad in a light grey suit, still clinging to the end of summer. Slipping a hand inside his jacket, he fished out a stack of cards. He looked happy. His smile pearly white, eyes crinkling.

Another sharp pain stabbed you.

You couldn’t look at him as he started his speech. His voice echoed through the room, but you felt so far away. You pressed your hand a little harder to your belly. You couldn’t hear a single word he said, just his familiar voice. It used to be calming, and it still was. But now guilt bit its sharp teeth in you.

Another sharp pain knifed your lower half, twisting its way to your lower back. Involuntarily, you hunched forward, clinging to yourself.

“y/n? Love?” Rhys whispered beside you, a comforting hand coming down to rest against your back, “What’s going on?”.

He sounded worried – which made you worried.

The pain came with quicker intervals, and you started to find it hard to breathe. Panic washed over you. Hand tightening around yourself, both trying to keep yourself standing upright, but also helping you cling to the reality of the situation.

A tear rolled down your cheek, but not from the pain.

Gathering all your strength you turned your head to look at Tom. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe, somehow, he understood what was happening. His eyes locked with yours in that exact moment.

He stumbled over his words. A mixture of happy recognition, and sadness flicking over his face, which then turned to concern. You shook your head. You don’t know at what. To tell him you’re okay, and not to worry? To tell him that it was over? To tell him your baby is dead?

“y/n!” it was Rhys in your ear, his voice erratic, “You have blood coming down your legs”.

“I–I think I’m having a miscarriage” you stuttered.

He looked at you like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Then he started nodding. Like he was coming up with a plan in his head. He didn’t say a word, only wrapped an arm around you to help you down the stairs. One step at a time.

You felt Tom’s eyes on you, as he struggled through the rest of his speech. Thankfully the lights were dimmed enough to make your shaky exit nothing but an annoying stain in the audience’s side vision.

That was the worst day of your life. And the last time you saw Tom in person. Rhys took you to the emergency room where they confirmed your suspicions. You were having a miscarriage. The rest of the day was like a black hole in your memory, and you were glad. You wanted to forget. The only thing you remembered was Rhys. He never left your side – not even once.

You managed to get the rest of the week off work, both to recover and to mourn. It was strange. Mourning someone you’d already decided not to have.

On the day you’d had your abortion scheduled, flowers got delivered to your flat. It was a big bouquet of white roses. It came with a card. Only two words were spelled out in a handwriting you recognized right away.

“I’m sorry

- T”

You didn’t know what he was apologising for, at the time. For falling in love with you? For getting you pregnant? For your loss? But how could he even know about your loss, and his.

Your answer came a couple of weeks later. A simple news push-notification on your phone.

“ROYAL BABY!” it read.

previous: the reunion |

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb #prince!tom holland #royal au #uni au #college au #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction

[satocidal]

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ Unfortunately, Yours

↳ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Episode 2:-

||Masterlist||Taglist Form||Previous Chapter (one)—Next chapter(three)||

Synopsis: It is when the birth right is snatched from your hands that your eyes truly ever open—especially when it’s always been there, right in your grasp. The Throne was yours, that was the truth promised and yet- yet your fate lay sealed with a certain Gojo. With an arranged marriage set in plan, alongs sets the plan of murder—within a wife who wants the throne and a husband who wants nothing but power, but suffers with them the present and the future of other two—especially when the lies of the past start surfacing.

— Word count: 3.5k

— A/n: First things first, I’m so glad you guys like the first one because ajahkahaka the comments? So lovely. Second, this chapter is ig has…more depth? Idk lmao and and I’m kind of confused to as how you guys would like the fic—Royal and 18th century based? Or Royal and 21st century based?

— Warnings: Gojo shames reader for being virgin; mentions of cameras; illegal filming; reader is naked and gojo is partially naked; just gojo being a jerk here tbh<3

The ride back home was quiet- slow, heavy.

Two ends of the car, the two doors you two sat by- separated in between with all that was to be offered. Fingers played with the hem of your gown- you hadn’t shed a single tear, all spent already—while your sister let out a few, your mother none and your maids all too many.

The music your driver played was slow, a decent hum you supposed- he seemed a talkative man at that too-“I must say, M’lady, if allowed,” he paused and you eyed him, “It’s a blessing to have you as our bride,”

Our.

The word somehow found its way around you all the time—‘our daughter’, your family had said- ‘and now ours’, the Gojos had responded.

A gift passed hand to hand.

You smiled, “The pleasure’s all mine sir,” you smiled kindly—hands grip tightening on the bouquet beside you.

The rest of the ride was no more a blur than your wedding, it was late—exhausting.

Your eyes zoomed past the many trees, the road- a hefty conversation about taxes the driver initiated with Satoru—you couldn’t care less.

But you did care about him.

A certain charm he’d carried, a certain flair to it—just something and a lot of it too. You very wary, yes, Father had taught you better than this- he wasn’t honest. And you guessed, never would be, not for the longest time at least.

But you couldn’t help it- a moth to a flame and yet you watched as the wax that tipped away.

You were however sure of one thing, your plan- the perfect little plan crafted along the counts of the gazillion stars- he wouldn’t let it be that simple.

But enough we’re the thoughts of a man that wasn’t to be yours, enough thoughts of a man you weren’t supposed to know much of—enough to let your eyes wander back at the white haired man—your husband.

The car halted just then- you were there, the Gojo Mansion—your home- no, your house.

Shy glances spared, a lick of the lips- you could taste your sister’s lip gloss still, strawberry —you weren’t sure what it was called- you never cared enough.

Satoru stepped out himself—you paused, not sure if he’d open the door for you—Father always did.

You waited and waited, his silhouette never moved so the Driver did—a kind man, you presumed him to be. With the gown a heavy set and shoes that bled your ankles anyways you stepped into the chilly night—the mansion, a dream, a ghost.

It was dark, the mansion built secluded- garden, large; a fountain resided in it too- unnecessary, you mused—a fence and a couple 100 guards— white, marble, orthodox. Your eyes narrowed- the moon was bright that night- the mansion reflected it beautifully. You despised it.

Yours was the last to arrive, the other cars parked outside- of course, formalities and lies, smiles and frowns- weddings.

Your mother-in-law, she rode the blue—The Gojo colour the tabloids had called it- now yours too.

Suguru rode in black- it was his, always. Up until your wedding, Satoru rode it too but as traditions went, Satoru’s new colour was White.

Yours and his.

Reflective, pensive, beautiful and pure.

“Come,” he ushered you inside finally- but you were already there, no? In there house- a month ago itself.

He was never around when you dropped by, calculated of course- shy smiles and elegant touches, you’d never gotten so close as to see his room- you were grateful but mothers, his and yours, they were persuasive enough.

You walked quietly beside him, equals, the law had defined you now. Equal footing.

Satoru Gojo didn’t bother much, or at all and you realised the first night of your wedding, none of the Gojos did. The first step inside was hollow, quiet, empty. The living room a dark hall and the pictures- a display of what these people could be in front of cameras.

His footsteps were heavy, your gown heavier, and your heart.

A thud you heard behind you- Suguru came to your vision, his smile first.

“Suguru,” you murmured, eyes seeking after Satoru instantly, you felt lost.

“M’lady,” he grinned, chills danced along your spine—“Satoru,” he nodded towards his best friend—“Glad to see you’ve reached safely- I’d be worried had something happened to either of you,” only the faint light in the corner lit up the room- cynical- your eyes narrowed.

“I’d have hoped it would,” exhausted was he? Perhaps, you supposed for he didn’t even care enough to hide his desperation, his frustration of the wedding- your eyes narrowed further.

“Why Suguru,” you reciprocated his gaunt smile, “We have your blessings on us, and the family’s right? Nothing could ever…” you let your words trail away, you stood vulnerable—not a single weapon in hand, you’d felt naked all night.

“Nothing of course,” he nodded, reassuringly- reassuring himself.

A cough- sudden, Satoru’s—“Come,” he repeated, leading the way this time, finally to his room—and just something in you hardened; nervous, you followed him.

-

You stood there, quiet in his room—unsure.

A month had gone in the preparation—the wedding, your stances, your elegance, your beauty. A month to perfect your youth and yet not a single person crept in to tell you of what was, perhaps, the most important part, at least it seemed to be.

Your husband was gone a decent 15 minutes, you stood there blankly—would he do it? Your heart raced.

Has he done it before? Why, of course he must have. But pity befell you all together, a life time spent in living after your father’s potential, all that was yours was gone. Privacy and curiosity of self—gone.

The bathroom door snapped open, sudden, your eyes rushed on to it—hands clammy and beats, faster—his brows raised.

“What are you doing?”

You didn’t know.

Silence you offered him—a hand raking through his wet hair he responded with—a bathe, you realised he’d taken.

But evident it was, with his black sweatpants and dark blue shirt, oversized even for him—the one Suguru had gifted him years ago draped over his body, a towel resting upon his shoulders.

“Sorry,” you muttered quietly, “the luggage confused me,” you lied through your teeth—embarrassing was the fact you’d stood all straight, unmoving in his thoughts and yours.

He hummed—“Strip,” his voice a command, your eyes watched him slowly.

“What,” you mumbled—not believing him—not wanting to believe him.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t act like you’ve never…” he paused, a brow raising, “Have you ever?”

You found yourself shaking your head—face warming up and embarrassment flooding you.

You weren’t truly sure what you’d have expected of him—not compassion, no—but then… a chuckle was not quite it.

“You’ve never had sex?” And all too suddenly, his voice sounded ten times louder—and an immeasurable times cockier—“A prude, aren’t ya? Bet you are,” he grinned- your heart sank.

You bit your lip, the gown and it’s accessories digging into your plush skin—uncomfortable you stood your ground.

“Kissed? You must’ve kissed someone?” You felt your voice get shaky even when you hadn’t spoken a word- your silence, he presumed to be denial.

Another chuckle—your eyes were moist.

“Oh bless my heart,” he chuckled, “I scored myself a virgin Hm?” Amused- he found you amusing, a toy.

You wanted to fight back- you wanted to shout, scream but when tears streaked your face, because you knew they would, you were unsure to how serious he’d deem you.

A silence enveloped the two of you as he let himself get comfortable on his bed- his- “Tell me darling,” he purred, “Ever touch yourself? Or waited your Daddy to teach you that too?”

Your face downturned- it didn’t show him your baffled expression- you were hurt, raged, saddened, a mess.

“Shut it,” you whispered- he laughed.

“You really were daddy’s princess Hm?” He’d gotten up now, so did his impeding pace- “So, gonna strip for me now darlin’?”

Only your disgusted eyes met him- “you’re pathetic,” you rasped- feet worked fast to move away- your night suit grabbed, the new one, the one your mother packed forcefully and how wished she’d have helped you through this too—your door locked.

The light in the dressing was low—it could’ve been better, you made a mental note to have it changed too, your hefty hands craft fully took off your gown- heart aching, mind a mess and gasping for space.

Your fingers slowly took off everything, everything but the ring remained — vouched at least to not be throw away on the night of your union; a steady rhythm of “don’t cry” repeating in your mind.

You sighed- eyes not daring to look at yourself once in the mirror—ashamed you continued, exhausted limbs slowly carried upon your form the silk suit. Your eyes landed upon your makeup, your hair—you weren’t very sure on the process of getting it off, you tried your best.

The hair was left as is, too afraid you were to tangle it and the make up drained by the clog as you washed your face twice, any and every sign of your tears gone—you finally stepped out—Satoru was awake, hands that typed fast on his phone came to a halt.

The smirk, the boyish kind adorned him again—“Thought I told ya’ to strip princess,”

You didn’t reply, you didn’t want to- mayhaps you couldn’t.

You frowned shortly—“Wouldn’t want a manwhore like you to touch me,”

Voice all the more cocky, “You should feel blessed darlin’”

His grin—his empty attempt of saving his reputation at your words was nothing short of unnerving- your jaw clenched.

You moved slowly towards his bed—about to climb in when—“What are you doing?”

You didn’t know. Was it some tradition you didn’t know- your mind ran fast—“wouldn’t wanna sleep with a man-whore either right?”

Silence—you licked your lips.

“But I’m generous sweety,” he chuckled, “the floor must be as comfortable as ever,” with that he nodded, lights switched off all too soon—indication of the end of the conversation.

And when all was said and done, your body found itself pressed on the hard ground — back aching, mind more so —heart broken already. Never expected your marriage to be great, you hadn’t but this certainly was not it.

A tear fell down your eye, this time a loud sob too- you weren’t ashamed anymore, not in the presence of man you didn’t care about you whatsoever. Eyes red and pillow wet by them too—you slowly drifted to slumber unwanted.

In moments such for you guessed there were more to come, you hated him.

The morning was bleak, the morning was shy.

“Morning,” a voice chirped- your fingers moved to grab your blade- none to be found, in fact now that your consciousness lay awake , you realised you weren’t laying on the ground you slept on.

A duvet wound around you and a pillow under your head—tears dry and measly.

“Morning,” you rasped—mind instantly drifting onto him—your plan—the mansion—“Sato’s practicing out there with Master Gojo,”

Eyes narrowed at her words—Sato?

Presumed to be her personal assistant, you looked up—mid 50s you assumed her age to be, short, rounded and pretty.

Humming to her words, you slowly got up—all too aware of her wandering eyes to your white bed sheets—meant to be painted red last night.

“How was the night?” Voice sweet, she chuckled quick—“Fine,” you replied and perhaps it was just fine in some sense of it.

She grinned at your words—brows you raised with an element of surprise when she handed you warm water, “For your throat baby,”

You nodded.

Your eyes followed her quietly as she shuffled around the room, working quick to gather Satoru’s daily attire—“He’s a good kid,” she said softly, “A little rough on the edge but you’ll be soon a part of him,” her smile was nice—you didn’t favour much, that which was considered nice.

You walked slowly around the bed—“You’ll go to meet him right?” An internal groan let out—you didn’t want to meet anyone, let alone him of all—mind too preoccupied with other thoughts as is.

“I’m not…” you paused, the excuse on the tip of your tongue, “uh- not freshened up,” a wholesome chuckle left her- you couldn’t help smile at her smile too.

“It’s not the fifties sweety,” she grinned, “I’m sure your husband can handle you in the morning after a decent night,” your face felt hot—your husband—his wife.

You nodded, a lick of the lips—“I’ll be there soon,”

She nodded now—“you know the way sweetcheeks?” Your heart warmed at her constant nicknames, “Yes…” your voice faltered, embarrassed slightly to not know the kind woman—“Kanao,” she smiled.

You smiled back.

-

Footsteps were oh so light as you walked, hair matted- shame left in that room as you walked- the simple art of walking, Father called it.

Walk along the hundred servants you did- half didn’t acknowledge you, half didn’t know you—and so you walked. The kitchen and then the garden—little cameras you’d planted everywhere, you smiled.

Intact.

A month since you’d begun your little charade—harmless really, in a way for you’d never release these videos—not unless it was necessary of course—it was self defence really.

5 in the kitchen and you had full knowledge of every cabinet and the rat poison’s the Gojos stored, the sharpness of each knife memorised; 3 in Kana Gojo’s bedroom—blackmail after all was taught to you hefty—your heart jumped at the letters she’d bring in the room, intel of yours knew the contents of all.

But only you did—not your father here nor your sister; this was your fight.

You’d checked every room you’d planted those cameras in—grateful to every lesson your Father implanted in your head—two room remained.

The dining and Your Father-in-law, Ginji’s—hand grasped onto the handle, you turned it—“M’lady?” You’d have jumped if not for a childhood spent in training your nerves—you smiled politely, confusion masking your expressions.

“Suguru,” you exclaimed—“This is the recreation room, yes?” Lies fell from your tongue sharp, easy.

His brows furrowed, “No?”

“No?” You mirrored his expressions—Father used to call you the perfect mime.

His brows raised—“That’s…Master Gojo’s Room?” Your pretence would’ve caught most, not him, but he smiled all the more—“Satoru’s down, here, let me take you,”

You knew he knew and you smiled just the same—“Yes please,”

Hands held behind his back, he walked swift—eyes downcast, whispers in his shadows—loud.

Suguru Geto, the assassin, some called him, the generous one—the others.

Neither shared a word until he finally halted, “Here it is,” door opened ajar—a slight scent of musk prevalent.

You peeked in—men and women alike—practicing all the same—no classes held, no power.

Sheer strength and agility.

Your eyes were quick to find him, towering most he stood—your eyes widened still, bare chested.

You’d seen men such all the time- Father trained you well after all, but those men weren’t supposed to be your husband- those men were different. Suguru seemed to have caught that still, a smirk plastered on his lips- “Most his girls have that reaction,”

Words mistaken, he realised quick, “My apologies M’lady,” eyes not daring to meet your amused expression- you chuckled, “I’m sure you have the same effect Suguru.” With that, you left him standing back, a smile on his face too.

Seduction lay at your finger tips—ironic was the fact; mastered weaponry in your other hand—result of nights and days spent crying in pain.

“Y/n,” a voice boomed loud—your father-in-law, you grinned, “Father,” you called him—as you had been for a month now.

“Here to watch the loser?” He laughed- always the chummy kind he was, “kind of here for the star of the show,” you wink at him, “Which is you of course,”

It was light hearted banter- a here and there which never mattered, he was different, far too different from your father.

“Why of course, but pray tell- is it today I get to set my eyes on your skills? I’ve heard much too praise to believe it,”

No.

Your smiled pursed—“If the King so orders My Lord,” you bowed your head slightly—words charming enough, “I’ve seen your mind Y/n,” he mused, “It’s beautiful,” no, it was dangerous- it was brilliant, you knew that.

“But the old heart craves to see the spin of your hand, the control on your swords—vicious, don’t they call you?”

A flick of the dagger embedded into your slip on gown—the one you’d hid quick from Suguru, the one you’d had crafted just for yourself, the one which was yours—a single swish and the King would be dead.

“My lord,” you bit your lips, “Are you sure the word was for your sweet daughter-in-law?” His laugh boomed again—“Humble Hm?”

You scoffed—“Dad,” face whipped to come to contact with Satoru, you looked away instantly, “You’ve got her blushing already kid?”

Lips bit you turned away slightly, fingers curled hard—“Wouldn’t want her showing you nothing today dad,” Satoru grinned as he sat down, a short breath exhaled as he sipped water, “Too sore after last night,” your face heated up at his comments- widening eyes stared at his hair.

Ginji merely chuckled away, leaving you two behind—“Loser,” Suguru mumbled, smacking his head—“Have some shame,” Suguru didn’t meet your eyes.

Interesting a man, you deemed him.

“My wife, my rules yeah?” Satoru stared at your feet—your eyes trained on his sweat lined shirt—riveting an action, he tickled your mind just a certain way.

-

You sat in his bed, it was tall- long- meant to suit his size, you felt small. Hands clasped onto your bath gown you waited for Satoru to get back, “Stay in the room,” his words seemed a warning then.

Satoru didn’t bother being nice anymore, he hadn’t at all even in the beginning but the facade was dropped all too soon as he pushed you into the room.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” His voice a whisper, sharp—“Why did you go out there?”

No issues traced your mind to your stepping outside—his tone enraging you all the more—never one to take unnecessary issues at hand, your forehead ticked, “I don’t see the issue dear husband,”

“Blinded by your own stupidity?” A smirk rested on his face quick- peculiar was the sudden change, “Alright whatever,” he scoffed, “Breakfat is a certain time,” —8:35 a.m., you had the time memorised—“they’ll expect you at the table by then,”

Eyes drifted to the clock, both of yours—it was 8:05 a.m.

“Let me go first,” not a request, more so a command.

He snorted—“Alright, here’s rule no. 1: never tell me what to do because I do not listen to the likes of you,”

Your jaw clenched— before you could add your own insult, he grinned—“Should’ve never stepped out of the room, should you baby? Tried at being a good little bride and actually done your job—prodding little bitch aren’t ya?”

Blood boiled inside you, hands curled into fists, tempted all too much to land a punch—“get out off my way,” through gritted teeth your words fell—never so patient with your own family.

A shake off his head had you regretting your own patience—“Two options,” he mused and turned around- entering the bathroom, ushering you outside still.

“Either you wait, have your privacy and ruin your first breakfast here or,” he eyed you softly, “bathe beside me. I won’t join you but you’ll have to do it within my presence,” all too sure if the fact that you’d never choose the later, he cackled.

The door almost locked at your face when you dropped your gown—naked you stood, his brows raised.

Fighting all urges to be embarrassed you stepped into the shower- eyes down cast, not a single attempt to hide your form—we are married now, you reminded yourself, we are one.

Satoru watched you amused for a second too long- eyes lingering and then swept away as if you didn’t matter, as if he didn’t care—your heart ached at the ignorance.

Shy hands lathered your own body, eyes drifting to his torso—your scars complimented his, you hated yours but his seemed so gorgeous.

Everything but his torso covered, yours naked—your eyes danced along his form, his never at you. The power play was simple.

Swift hands pulled the razor—he shaved quick, you washed your body faster, biting your lips when he didn’t spare a single glance back. You didn’t crave validation from most, Father was enough but these were matters beyond that- not a little girl you remained, someone’s wife. Heart raced at the thought of your naked form in front of him—in front of anyone for that matter.

A first for you, nth for him—you didn’t matter, your heart had presumed—never be pretty enough for him, you consoled. A heart begged for some recognition and you got none, a towel wrapped around you as you stepped outside—glad you were that hiding tears in the shower was easy a feat enough.

Satoru stood in—finally allowing himself to shower, the room scented of your perfume, your maids worked quick on your make up- your eyes laying bare, a new topic for their idle gossip.

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