#!kay! writes
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demaparbat-hp · 6 months ago
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The Perfect Prince
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tojisprettywife · 8 months ago
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{note: i rewrote this, with b.s.t (hope someone gets the reference 🧍🏻‍♀️) anyway i cried, it got deleted first. i’m sleepy, hopefully it’s okay. minors DNI.}
warnings: smut. characters! m! x f! reader. characters are aged up to 21.
inexperienced men. who for the very first time feel, what a pussy feels like. your gummy, warm walls clenching around his throbbing cock. the way he clenches his jaw and gritting his teeth, to regain composure from cumming almost immediately. “f-fuck…so tight ..”. your pulsing soft walls suck his cock in, barely holding himself up. the way his soft, silky locks fall on your chest as he’s hunched over you. only gasps, curses and more whimpers slipping out of his lips. “so.. t—tight.. shit..”. pushing his full length into, till the base, gripping the plush of your hips, a bit too hard, in meek attempts to stop himself from painting your tight walls white. after what seems like forever, he slowly moves his hips, each stroke, sending shivers down his spine. he leans down to kiss you, again in attempts to keep him from moaning loud. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, his tongue lapping yours. but soon, the kissing gets sloppy, saliva dripping down both your chins. he leans down, burying his face into the crook of your neck. his teeth grazing the base of your neck, as his hips erratically, in haste buck against yours. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, filling the room combined with his little whimpers and yours. “i-i’m cum-ming… f-fuck” he buries himself to the hilt, pushes himself even deeper, his tip bruising your cervix. his eyes squeezed shut, biting down your shoulder lightly. his cock, pumping ropes of milky, sticky cum. his cock twitching inside you, panting against your neck. just as he catches his breath, your walls convulse around his twitching cock, overstimulating. “o- fuckkk.. f..ck” barely able to form coherent sentences, slurring his words. burying his face into the pillow, beside your head, to stifle his moans. muffled moans, teary eyes as one hand gripped your waist tightly, bruising them lightly and the other hand gripping the sheets, crumpling them. his first feel of a vaginal orgasm. he presses soft kisses from your jawline to your neck, “it feels… so good.. one more time?.. please baby?..”. no longer will his hands suffice for him, as he felt what heaven feels like, you.
~ Choso Kamo, Gojo Satoru, Oikawa Toru, Nagi Seishiro, Inumaki Toge, Miya Atsumu, Yuuji Itadori, Kageyama Tobio + whoever you want 😵‍💫
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crowfaraday · 3 months ago
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she learns to walk and realises she can just Leave now
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izzyy-stuff · 5 months ago
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TXT and their smut head-canons
txt x afab!reader
word count: 400-600 for each member, 2.4k in total
warnings: use of "my girl" in yeonjun's, oral, vaginal fingering, pet names, established relationship, edging, dirty-talking, overstimulation, mirror sex, unprotected sex, plushie humping I might have missed a few things, but hopefully that's all
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SOOBIN
He gets very pussy drunk, always wanting to have his head in between your thighs.
“Pretty please,” he begged, his puppy eyes staring into your soul. “Soob, it's been a long day. I am tired,” you shook your head, sighing. “You don't have to do anything, bun. Please, I just want to make you feel good.”
And just like that, you give in again, unable to resist your pretty boyfriend as he begs to taste you. You find his head in between your thighs almost immediately, sucking on your clit lazily.
He could go on for hours, not letting you go even after you cum, keeping his tongue in your cunt as he licks every last bit of your orgasm, his nose buried in your clit. “You taste so good,” he mumbles against your pussy, kissing your inner thighs, looking up at you.
Before you two started dating, and even at the beginning of your relationship, he was shy, unsure of what he could and couldn't do. But after you two had sex for the first time, he turned out to be a big pervert.
“Soob, I am working,” you complained right after he picked up your call. “Mhm, need you here with me,” he'd only groan in response, making your eyes widen as you hear the lewd sounds. He was actually masturbating and not just texting you to tease you.
You quickly hanged up on him, making sure no one heard what you did. You looked at your phone again, going to curse him out for not warning you sooner when he sends you a message first. A video attachment. You don't need to click on the video to realize what he had sent you, turning off your phone immediately. He was an asshole for texting you those cheap things and then even sending you a video while you were working.
Just like the last one suggests, he loves teasing you over the phone and sending you nasty texts, while he sometimes can't even speak properly when you start dirty-talking to him in person.
“I thought you said you'll ruin me?” You smirked, sitting on his lap, facing him, his pretty eyes wandering all over your face. “I- mhm,” he tried to answer but shut his mouth right away, unable to say anything now that you were in front of him. “What was that?” You smiled innocently, your fingers playing with his hair as you felt his cock hardening under you.
“You said you wanted to fuck all the stress out of me. And that you would eat me out well,” you reminded him, watching as his cheeks turned red. “I still want to do that,” he nodded quietly. You chuckled, cupping his cheeks as you pressed your lips on his. “Then don't just sit here and do what you promised.”
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YEONJUN
He has a full-body mirror opposite his bed and knows damn well how to use it.
You sat on his lap, your head thrown back against his shoulder, moans escaping your lips. “What did I say, love? Eyes on the mirror,” he proclaimed while his two fingers thrusted into your pussy, that was already leaking with your cum. It didn't stop him when you finished, and you knew the “just five minutes, please. You look so good,” he said before wasn't even close to the truth. It had already been fifteen minutes, and he was nowhere close to being done.
“I can't,” you answered, your eyes closed. “You can. Come on. Look at how pretty you are with my fingers in you,” he whispered, his breath landing on your ear, sending shivers all over your body. “It's- too much,” you gasped as you felt his thumb on your clit. “Jjunie,” you moaned out, slowly opening your eyes just to see him smirking in the mirror, his eyes on your naked body. “God, I can't wait to fuck you.”
That alone was enough to make you cum on his fingers again. “Please, Jjunie,” you cried, trying to get off his lap. “What does my girl want, hm?” He asked, sucking on your neck to keep you in your place. You moaned at his touch again. “I need your dick, not fingers.”
“Say less,” he whispered against your skin, kissing you one more time before he took his fingers out. “But to get what you want, you need to listen to me too. Eyes on the mirror, baby.”
He is obsessed with the sounds you make when you're with him. All the moans, whines, and begs for him are pressure to his ears.
"Don't hold back." "Let me hear you, pretty." "God, do that sound again." Those were all words you heard that night and many nights before. Yeonjun wasn't the best at hiding what he liked. You always loved that, and you loved doing things he liked. You enjoyed dancing with him, wearing dresses that were his favorites, or listening with him to his favorite artists, but this was different.
You put a hand in front of your mouth as you felt like the pillow under you wasn't enough to muffle your sounds, doing your best to stay quiet. But Yeonjun had a different idea, thrusting into you even faster to make you moan for him. "C'mon, love, put that hand away," he groaned, his hands firmly on your ass, holding you up. "Please, pretty. I need to hear you," he begged, leaning closer and kissing your back.
"They are right next to us," you managed to answer without being too loud, pushing your head into the pillow again. His four band members were in the living room, watching some movie Kai was picking up as you two left to go to Yeonjun's room. And before you could realize it, you ended up on his bed, your ass up for him so he could fuck you. "Who cares? Let them hear how good I am in making you feel good."
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BEOMGYU
Beomgyu refuses to admit it, but he has a favorite position. He cannot get enough of you on top of him, riding him.
You noticed a long time ago that he loves being able to see your face when he fucks you, but it was only recently that you realized what his all-time favorite position was. It was obvious when you thought about it. The way he moaned your name and watched you when you rode him was something else. It was driving you crazy.
“Fuck, you're doing so good,” he praised you as he bit onto his bottom lip, watching your boobs bounce right in front of his face, your hands on his shoulders. His hands found their way to your waist, keeping your pace steady as he leaned closer to you, his lips placing wet kisses on your breast. "Gyu," you whined, your hand in his hair now. "Just hold it a bit longer," he mumbled against your boob as he sucked on your nipple, knowing you were as close to cumming as he was.
He is a menace, teasing you whenever he gets the chance. It's simply his way of showing affection. That's also why he loves it when you show him affection in the same way, teasing him.
Beomgyu sat in his gaming chair, tilting his head as he lost another game. Everything was going against him today. "Again?" Soobin asked. "Yeah, surely we are going to win this round," Beomgyu agreed before he muted himself, noticing you walk into the room. "What's up?" He wondered, glancing at his loading screen to assure himself he wasn't in the game yet. "Nothing, keep playing. I just wanted to be here." He didn't look much into it and turned his attention to his screen again, starting the game.
But before he could realize it, you were under his desk, your hands spreading his knees apart. He glanced at you, ready to tell you he wasn't in the mood, but when he saw you, your puppy eyes looking up with your lips slightly parted, he couldn't. But he also couldn't get off the game just like that.
To his luck, you didn't mind. You didn't care if Soobin heard his whines because the two of them were on a call or that he had his eyes on the screen, trying to focus. You pulled down his pants along with his boxers, his already hard cock slapping against his tummy. You scoffed at how hard he was. You saw the look he gave you. You knew he was planning to tell you to stop at first, so it made you scoff how his thoughts didn't align with his body at all.
"Keep focusing on the game, you need to win this round," you proclaimed with a smirk on your face when you felt his eyes on you again as you sucked on his tip. "And how exactly do you want me to do that?" He asked, trying not to make any unnecessary moans when Soobin could still hear him. "Fuck," he whispered, noticing his character dying as you took his whole length down your throat. "Sorry, Soobin, gotta go," he said quickly, not even waiting for his best friend to answer before he hung up on him, moving his chair slightly to the back so he could see you clearer. "You think it's fun to suck me off while I play? God, stop staring at me like that, or I'll cum."
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TAEHYUN
No matter how responsible he is, he loves fucking you raw.
"Just fuck me without one, I don't care." When he heard the words coming out of your mouth, a part of him went crazy. He stopped looking through his drawer for condoms and came back to you in no time, spreading your legs apart to take a proper look at your wet cunt. "Oh yeah? You want me to go in raw?" He teased, a smirk on his face. You glanced at him, the visible bulge in his pants making you clench around nothing but thin air. "Please," you nodded.
It took him no time to get his pants and boxers off, giving his cock a few pumps before moving closer to you, his tip teasing your entrance as he pushed your legs up to your breast. You moaned out a lot more desperately than you would want. "Tae, please," you whined, watching as his lips turned into a smirk again. "Don't cry that it's too much later. You are the one who begged for me so beautifully."
You soon find your boyfriend's cock inside of you, not giving you any time to adjust before he starts thrusting in and out of you, fast right from the start. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned out, feeling your pussy tighten around his cock even more as he spoke.
He hates when you try to tease him while giving him a blowjob, but it's a whole different story when he is the one doing it. The way you beg for him to let you cum and the way you whine under him are his favorite parts of edging you.
"Please, please," you cried, trying to close your legs. "Please, what? Hm?" Taehyun asked, not even looking up at you. His eyes were focused on your wet pussy as his fingers pushed in and out of you. "Need to cum," you managed to answer, thrusting your hips towards his fingers, but the moment you did so, he pulled them away, watching you whine again.
You tried to get your hand to your pussy and take care of it yourself, but he had a different plan, grabbing your hand right after he saw you move. Your hands were pinned above your head right away, making you whine again. "Tae, please. Need to cum," you begged him again. "Not yet, beauty. Want you to cum in my mouth."
You found your head thrown back with your hands still pinned above you as he went down on you, sucking on your clit. "Tae!" You gasped when you felt him insert his two fingers into you again while his mouth still played with your clit.
It was your last straw. You couldn't hold back anymore even if you wanted to, squirting all over his face. "Is that all you got after all this time?" He mumbled, his head still buried between your thighs, tongue-fucking you.
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HUENINGKAI
Kai has an obsession with your boobs. Whenever he sees you walking around without your bra, he gets hard, wanting nothing more than to fuck your breast.
His eyes fell on your hard nipples immediately. You had just walked out of the shower, wearing only your panties and one of his shirts. He had to gulp as he shifted in his place on your couch, unable to take his eyes away.
"Everything okay?" You asked, drying your hair with a towel. "What's on your mind?"
"You are," he proclaimed, reaching his hand out to you. You smiled at him, thinking he was in his 'sweetheart mood' like you liked to call it, but you soon noticed you were wrong. When you got closer to him, your eyes automatically fell on the bulge in his pants, making you scoff in disbelief. "Please, love, just once," he begged you quietly, his puppy eyes looking up at you. You sighed, knowing exactly what was on his mind.
You dropped to your knees, slowly taking off your - his - shirt, making him shift in his place again. "You're so-so pretty," he praised you as you held your breast in your hand, his hard cock sliding in between them immediately, his tip touching your lips. You opened your mouth, licking his tip before he started thrusting into your mouth, whining at the way you squeezed your boobs around his dick.
Whenever he feels horny while the two of you are away from each other, he humps one of your plushies, moaning out your name.
"fuck, y/n," he groaned out desperately, humping your teddy bear. It was full of your scent, and that alone was driving him crazy. "Nhm- Need you so much," he continued, his eyes closed as he imagined it was you under him, his cock sliding on your folds instead of the stupid plush toy.
His hand reached out to his nightstand, almost knocking down everything that was on it in order to get to his phone. He didn't stop his movements as he opened your and his chat, texting you to come home soon. However, the text looked a lot different than he intended to. It was just a bunch of letters when you read it, but the follow-up message made you realize what was going on. "nwwd you sm plss" was the only thing he managed to write before he threw his phone to the side, thrusting his hips against the teddy bear faster.
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after-witch · 3 months ago
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The Morning After [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]
Title: The Morning After [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]
Synopsis: You wake up in a room you’ve never been in to the sight of a man you’ve never met.
Word count: 3500ish
Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, degradation, drugging
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Memory and time and the world itself are fuzzy, gray things as you wake up. Before the abrupt, awful, heavy awakening, there was nothing--just a dull blackness where you did not exist. 
Yet there’s a dim sense as the world returns to you, as your heavy eyes struggle to open, that you are, indeed, alive. 
Alive and a person, you remember that, too. Alive and a person and... somewhere. You must exist somewhere, that is a basic tenant of existence, isn’t it? But as your eyes finally open and the world above you is stark white, too bright, you can’t quite remember where somewhere is.
Underneath your head, there is a body. That, too, feels heavy. So you flex it, or at least you try. Your fingers feel like fuzzy sticks but perhaps they are moving when you try to curl your hands. The fuzziness extends all the way through your body, like you’ve rolled around in pins and needles and have yet to shake them off.
Breathing--you’re breathing, too. That is a sign that you are alive, that you have returned to the world. Even if your mouth feels dry and sticky, and there is an awful taste in it. You open and close and it almost hurts; there’s a vaguely wet smacking sound, and the awful taste is amplified by the trace spit that registers against your tongue.
Your head hurts. Your neck, too--specifically one point. There’s an instinctive desire to reach for that point, and your arms obey, feeling like heavy lead, until your hand slaps against it. Why does it hurt like that? 
It’s a small point of pain, like someone had stuck a needle into your--
And there. There. It all comes flooding back to you. Your name, your life, your world, the moments before it all went dark. 
You worked the day it all went dark. It was an ordinary day of work, a bit stressful, with moments of reprieve. Your lunch had been soup and rice and a treat: blue raspberry soda from the vending machine. After work, you went grocery shopping--you needed something for dinner--and returned home to your apartment. You remember the sound of the key turning in the door, the surprise that there was a light on in your kitchen--hadn’t you turned it off that morning?--and then… and then…
The pain, in your neck. That small point. An awful prickling, like being stung by a bee. Only there was no time to swat it away, and you fell into darkness, the bags of groceries hitting the floor before you did.
That was… however long ago. How long had the world been gone? A few hours? A day? Days?
With the returned sense of self, your body seems to want to catch up with your mind, and the sense of buzzing heaviness fades away enough for you to push yourself up onto your elbows. The material underneath you is soft: a bed, a mattress, with plain white cotton sheets.
You’re in a bed. In a bed, in a room with plain white walls. There is sparse furniture: two wooden dressers, a table, two chairs. There looks to be a folding door--a closet?--and two more doors, besides. 
Are you in a hospital? Did you pass out, and some kindly neighbor heard the thunk-thunk-thunk of your body and bags falling to the ground, then called for emergency services? It would explain the sparse room, although there’s no IV in your arm, no machines monitoring your heart rate. 
It would explain, too, what you’re wearing.
You’re not wearing the clothes you fell down in. Instead, you’re wearing a cotton nightgown, made from a thick but relatively soft material. There is lace on the collar, which is strange (but not impossible, your mind reminds you) for a hospital. Still. It makes sense. You pry away a thin comforter with still fuzzy hands and see that your shoes are gone; your feet are clad in only soft white socks. That, too, makes sense. You wouldn’t be put in a hospital bed with work shoes. That would be silly, and silly things did not belong in hospitals--which must be where you are.
Even though there are no IVs hooked into your arm, and no machines monitoring your heart and blood pressure and many more things, besides. Even though this appears to be some private suite, and you were sure that no hospital would put someone who fainted into a fancy room like this. You weren’t wealthy or notable, just a nobody who lived in a mediocre apartment and had a mediocre job and--
The door opens, and a doctor walks in. Or he must be a doctor, because who else would walk in wearing a tailored black suit and a face mask, if you had woken up in a hospital? Which must be where you were--despite all the confusion, and the strange details, and the fact that you had neither the wealth or status to be in a private room like this.
He stops when he sees that you’re sitting up. He must be surprised to see you awake, or perhaps he’s looking you over for signs of continued injury, because the way he stares is a bit unnerving.
You want to ask where you are, and what happened, and if anyone called your emergency contact. But your head still feels heavy, a little cottony, and all that comes out is--
“Um.” The word comes out all dry and croaked, and you’re suddenly aware of your dry, parched throat.
“I’ll get you water,” the mystery doctor says. He has dark hair and his voice is low, almost neutral. Well, it would be, wouldn’t it? Doctors probably had to practice speaking like that; like nothing was wrong, even if you’d clearly had some awful medical episode that required some sort of specialized care with a private room.
He steps away from the door he entered--locks it, too, and isn’t that strange?--and walks to the only other door in your suite. When it opens, you realize it’s a bathroom. Just as white and sterile-looking as the main area. There’s a squeak of a tap being turned on, and a rush of water, and before long he walks up to you.
Your heavy hands move forward to take the glass, but he takes one look at the trembling and tsks.
“I’ll hold it,” he says. The thought makes your stomach squirm but, he would know best, wouldn’t he? 
So you don’t protest when he raises the glass lid to your lips, and tips it back so you can take a drink. He doesn’t hold it there for long. Just long enough for your throat to feel soothed and damped. Then the glass goes away, and he sets it down on the nearby table before grabbing a chair and placing it near the bed.
He sits.
You stare.
Shouldn’t he be taking your vitals, or something? The thought comes softly. He’s not like any doctor you’ve ever seen. And this is not like any hospital room you’ve ever been in; even a private suite should have… something, right? An IV bag trailing into your arm, a heart rate monitor in case something went wrong. 
The sense of wrongness hangs in the air as he begins to speak.
“I’m glad you’re awake. I had to guess at your body weight, so I wasn’t sure if I had the correct dosage.”
Your brain feels heavy as you ask--
“The correct dosage…” Dosage, of what? “You mean, medicine?”
He blinks impassively at you. Then there are wrinkles around his eyes, like he might be smiling. 
“The sedative.”
The sedative? The sedative--
Memories come back slow, unwillingly, like dragging your feet through heavy gray slush in the winter. 
When you opened your apartment door, the kitchen light was on. The kitchen light was on and when you turned, there was something; no, not something. Someone. A man with no mouth--a mask--and cold eyes and there was a glint of silver before it plunged right into your neck.
This wasn’t a hospital.
The man in front of you wasn’t a doctor.
If you had been hooked up to a heart monitor, it would have no doubt gone haywire in the next moments, as you forced your leaden body to shove back against the wall, your trembling legs getting stuck on the cotton sheets of the bed. There was nowhere to go; the bed was pushed up against the wall and he blocked the only exit.
“You--you--” The words come out stuttered and tingling, like they aren’t even coming out of your mouth. “You kidnapped me.”
He eyes your sudden skittering with nothing more than a moment of raised eyebrows.
“I acquired you,” he corrects, as if that was a correction to be made at all. “To keep you safe. To keep you away from the filth.”
His words barely register as your breathing speeds up. You’ve been kidnapped. Kidnapped and redressed and taken to some bizarre room by someone who was clearly out of his mind. So you do the only thing you can think to do in an awful situation like this: you bargain.
“Please,” you say, and the dryness in your throat comes back and makes your words crack. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. If--if it’s money you want, I don’t have much, but I can--”
He raises a gloved hand.
“Please, this has nothing to do with money. I won’t be letting you go.”
You shake your head, like that matters. 
“Who are you?” You ask, not sure if you really want to know.
The lines around his eyes crinkle again.
“Chisaki Kai. That’s what you may call me, anyway.” He sighs, a soft, almost imperceptible sound. “Very few have the privilege of doing that, you know.”
You’d rather have your freedom than this thing he calls a privilege, but you don’t have the wordpower to voice that particular thought. 
Your fingers cling to the only thing they can: the cotton sheets underneath you. Tighter and tighter, until they almost feel like they’ll cramp up.
“Why did you bring me here?” There are tears in your eyes now, and you can see his gaze begin to follow them as they trickle down your cheeks.
“To protect you,” is all he offers, before slapping his thighs and standing up. “Now, it’s time to get up.”
A million awful scenarios rush through your head at once, leaving you feeling sick. What is he going to do to you? Is he going to hurt you? Kill you? Are you just one in a long line of people he’s brought to this room, all drugged and hazy, before he kills them and does who knows what with the bodies?
You shake your head.
He tsks from behind the mask. There are no crinkles around his eyes, now.
“Get up,” he orders. Softly, yes, but there’s a finality and firmness to his tone that makes your wobbly legs push towards the end of the bed as if you were an automaton. 
“Why?” You squeak out. If he’s going to kill you, will he tell you, first?
He turns around and repositions the chair so that it’s back at the table, and pulls out the second. His hands hover around you as he guides you on jelly-like legs to sit down. 
“It’s time for breakfast.” A simple answer, like you had met him on the street and asked the time. Like he didn’t just admit to drugging you and kidnapping you. 
“I’m not hungry,” comes the automatic answer. You’re not. Your stomach feels empty, but it’s wrenched; from fear and stress and gallons of adrenaline.
“You will eat breakfast,” he says, just as automatically. “You will eat everything on your plate, as well. I’ve calculated out the perfect nutrition for your needs.” There’s a bit of a smile to his voice, even though it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes.
The wooziness in your body, the fresh horror creeping from your skull down to your toes, keeps you rooted to the chair while he briefly leaves. When he returns, he’s carrying a tray--it reminds you of a hospital tray, despite everything--with a modest amount of bland, healthy looking food on it.
Your stomach turns.
--
The rest of your day comes in awful little vignettes, all blurry black around the edges, only becoming clearer when he explains the rules to you. It’s an awful form of clarity.
He doesn’t call them “the rules,” but that’s what they’re meant to be, certainly. He lays them out so simply, almost sickly sweet. Like you’ve been brought to some boarding school and are getting shown the ropes.
The thought of ropes makes you feel sick. But he hasn’t tied you up, and that’s some small relief.
Or it would be, if it weren’t for the rest of those black-rimmed vignettes that fill up your day. 
When he picks out an outfit--a simple dress, a pair of clean underwear, and soft socks--and turns around, telling you to get changed. He won’t look, as long as you behave; as long as you don’t make a fuss.
When he shows you the dresser, the closet, the bathroom, the empty shelves. Tells you that if you behave, you’ll get rewarded; with books and paper and pencils. That the better you are, the happier you’ll be here, he says. Like you had any control over the situation at all.
When he makes you eat lunch and tells you to chew your food more slowly, more thoroughly. It helps with digestion, he says. You’ll get an upset stomach otherwise. As if you aren’t fighting the urge to gag with every bite you take--as if the reason you’re feeling queasy isn’t sitting in front of you with a mask on his face.
When you tell him, teary eyed, that you want to go home and burst into sobs but he merely waits until your hiccuping shoulders have ceased to move and tells you: “This is your home now. I’ll take care of you. Crying is only going to work you into hysterics.” 
When you refuse to eat dinner--your first act of rebellion, such as it is--and he simply sighs, leans back, and tells you that if you refuse to eat, you will go to the clinic and be fed through an IV.
“Would you like that?” Honey drips bitterly from each word.
You would, in fact, not like that. 
The spoon trembles when you lift it, but the soup goes inside your mouth, all the same.
--
“But why do you have to watch me?” The words come out dry and scratched. If you were home, you would brew yourself a cup of tea and drizzle in a modest amount of honey for good measure. You, however, are far from home.
“It’s my job to look after you.” Even if he wasn’t wearing the mask, you’d have no idea what he looks like right now, because you can only manage to stare at the tiles on the bathroom floor. Below you are your bare feet, feeling shakier than ever; above, your cheeks are burning so hot it almost hurts. 
“You don’t have to… I’ve always--what I mean is--I can do this myself,” is what you manage, fists clenching at the soft fabric of your dress. It felt flimsy enough all day--how much flimsier, then, if you were to pull it over your head and let him see you bared? 
“I’m sure you think that.” There’s something like a smile in his voice, and it’s a smile you hope to never see. “But the reason you’re here is that you can't take care of yourself. Now,” he says, with an air of finality. “Remove your clothing and step into the tub.”
There’s no room for argument. No room for pleading, no room to change his mind. There’s only one thing that you can do to end the situation, and that's to do exactly what he wants: take off your dress, your underwear, even your white padded socks, and sit in the clear water while he stares at your naked body. 
“I’ll turn around while you get undressed.”
It’s a wonder that you don’t burst out laughing. 
Instead, you fight back tears and look up, staring at the still back of the man who has turned your world into a frizzy, confusing mess in a matter of 24 hours. 
Despite the warmth of the water steaming up the room, you shiver. Your heart might as well be in your ears, for how well you can hear it pounding. That haziness from the morning returns, a sort of numbness as your fingers clench the fabric of the dress and you pull up, up, up, slipping it over your head and dropping it on the floor. 
The underwear takes longer to remove. So long that you worry he’ll turn around, and that’s what finally has you yanking the fabric down, has you stepping out of them and then--like an automaton cranked too tightly--rushing to step into the tub.
Water splashes around you as you settle, pulling your knees up to cover what you can.
He turns around and, of all things, kneels next to the tub. If he touches you--if he reaches for the sponge and tries to wash you--you think you’ll scream.
But his hands stay where they are, resting on his knee.
You look at his hands, and not his face. There’s nothing you want to see less than his eyes right now.
“Most people don’t know how to bathe properly,” he tells you, as if instructing you on something of high importance. And it probably is, to him. You can sense the beginning of some long speech, a list of things you must do in the bath, just as he gave you a list of things you must do when dressing, when eating, when everything.
“I know how to wash myself,” you mumble, feeling hot around the ears.
He doesn’t bother acknowledging you, and a further rush of shame flushes through your chest and threatens to jump out and migrate to the wobbling knees pressed against it. 
Instead, he points--you follow his hands, still unable to look anywhere else--to a line of cloths and brushes hanging from hooks on the wall of the tub. 
“They’re color-coded,” he offers, almost cheery. “Pink is for the initial scrubbing, to slough away the initial dirt and dead skin. Blue is for cleansing with antibacterial soap. Purple is for rinsing.” His fingers tap the brushes. “The same for the brushes, for your back.”
There’s a moment where you think he might actually grab the cloth and wash you, but thankfully, his hands return to their former position. 
A moment more--two or three, at least--and he clears his throat.
“Start with your legs. Most people do not scrub their legs well enough, and it leads to an excess amount of dead skin.” There’s a bit of distaste in his voice at the mention of dead skin. Your thoughts go to the gloves on his hands, the mask, the insistence on making sure you get clean enough in this tub of his.
You grab the pink cloth. Dip it in the hot water, and start scrubbing at your knee.
He clears his throat again, and your stomach drops.
“Put your legs down. Scrub under the water, so the dead skin doesn’t accumulate on the cloth.” 
No. No. No-no-no-no-no. It’s what you want to say, a simple word, a clear word.
But the word is stuck in your mouth, and you’re left with nothing to do but let your knee slide down, one, then the other.
He can see you. He can see you.
The thought makes the held-up tears finally come, bubbling out like soap. Something childish in you glances at him, then, hoping for pity--for disturbance, for him to wonder if perhaps he’s doing the right thing.
But the only thing you see in his eyes is a flash of impatience.
“If you take too long,” he says, over your sniffles, “the water will not be hot enough to disinfect. We’ll have to start over, at that point.” Start over and--would he want to take over, fed up with your clear incompetence? 
And so you get back to work, the colored-coded cloth scraping at your skin, and you can only hope you’re doing it well enough to avoid dragging out the bath any longer than possible.
“Don’t forget behind your knees,” he murmurs. Despite not looking at him, you can feel his eyes on you. Watching. Assessing. 
And that’s what he does: assess. Because the comments don’t stop, even as you move on to cleansing and rinsing and everything else he’s ordering you to do.
Wash this. Scrub that. Do it gently, do it harder. Use this soap and only one pump--don’t wash your hair like that, it causes breakage--let me test the water to make sure it’s hot enough. 
--
That night, on clean sheets, in a clean nightgown, with a clean body, you cry yourself to sleep. 
And in the morning, when you wake up, you’re still here.
And Overhaul still comes in through the door, breakfast tray in hand, a smile hidden behind his mask.
748 notes · View notes
venusbyline · 7 months ago
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tvdu men + their favorite kinks
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⚠️: Smut headcanons, female reader, BDSM themes, CNC mentioned, blood and bites mentioned, slight dark content. Damon, Elijah, Jeremy, Kai, Klaus, Kol, Silas and Sfefan headcanons included.
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Damon Salvatore
• Blood kink. Damon loves blood. He likes hurting you during sex as many ways as possible, hitting you until blood comes out, marking you, biting you... Every way he can see you writhing and asking for more, or crying in pain/pleasure and begging him to stop (but without saying your safe word, because you actually DON'T WANT him to).
• Primal kink. If you're human, Damon likes acting as you're his prey. He hunts you on a deserted road, especially giving you a little time before he starts really hunting you, like hide and seek.
Elijah Mikaelson
• Master/slave. In my opinion, Elijah's one of the most canonically sadistic characters of the show, all of it just hidden in his fake perfection's mask . The master and slave dynamic it's perfect for him. You worship him, even when he tells you to rub your slutty pussy on his social shoes while you give him a head, making you cum just like that and then demanding you bend over and lick your own juices on his shoes. You also wear white lingerie and stay with your handcuffed hands behind your back for hours, willing to do whatever he tells you to do, thanks to your limits already pre-established well in advance.
Jeremy Gilbert
• Choking (before his Hunter's Mark). Jeremy was a real soft boyfriend, so switch but more on the sub side. He loved being choked, feeling your fingers squeezing his throat as you rode him fast, his hands holding your hips but without controlling your moves, just feeling the heat of your skin.
• Spanking (after his Hunter's Mark). This Jeremy's version it's much more dominant. He's so strong and hot... He loves to lay you down on his knee and spank your ass until it's burning red. Just like he also loves hiting you with his belt if you were being too bratty before.
Kai Parker
• CNC. Wow, Kai's a "human" red flag and that's why I love him. He has such dark desires, you couldn't help but be scared the first time he told you about his CNC/rapeplay kink. It took a while for you to convince yourself, but after you exposed your limits, you knew that it could happen at any moment and you always get excited waiting for it. Your whining while he hurts you and "forces" you to do these things it's a spur to both of you. The chase, the begging, the crying, the blood...
Klaus Mikaelson
• Choking. When he's fucking you, he doesn't miss the opportunity to grab your neck tightly, watching you gasp for air as his hand cuts off your breath, fucking you harder and hearing your strangled moans.
• Degradation. He loves to humiliate you (but only during sex). Calling you degrading pet names and making you feel worthless and pathetic. When it's the aftercare time, the first things he does it's lie down next to you, hugging you and fill you with so much soft words, proving tthat everything he said before wasn't true.
Kol Mikaelson
• Daddy kink. He's not that rough on relationships, we know that (isn't that right, Davina?). But he still likes being dominating you during sex, even if in a soft way. He likes you calling him daddy and acting like his submissive little girl. He punishes you as many times as you need but always spoils you if you're a good girl to him.
Silas
• Degradation & Edging. Silas's so... Silas. So hot and sarcastic. He loves degrading you sometimes, but he's more mocking than Klaus. I guess that's why I also picture him as someone with an Edging kink. He doesn't just degrades you and treats you as someone less than him, but he also shows that by denying your orgasms for HOURS, and after he's satisfied seeing your crying and pleading, he makes you cum until you squirt and say your safe word. Just like Klaus, the moment sex it's over he treats you like his goddess.
Stefan Salvatore
• Primal kink (as Ripper). Ripper Stefan's so cruel and dark... He loves Primal Roleplay. He's addicted to chasing you as if you were his prey, as if you were just one of the stupid humans he feeds on. You play this prey role very well, even allowing him to feed on you at these times.
• Pet play. Stefan in his (considerably) normal sane state isn't as so dominant and rough, but he's yet a little kinky. You're his bunny, he wants you to play this role very well during this roleplay tok. Wearing lingerie, plugs with tails, acting slightly like a bunny...
2K notes · View notes
itsmarsss · 6 months ago
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Vulgar Display of Power [Miguel Diaz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)
You can never fucking beat him in a fight and it's getting frustrating.
Request: omg more miguel please!!! smutty if u can xx already dating if you want? Fic title comes from my (second) favorite Pantera album. Word count: 4,350 Warnings: SMUT. established relationship, theres plot but it only serves to justify the sex lol, i use present tense in this, degrading, first time sub!miguel kind of, handjob, fingering, oral sex, penetration (p in v), semi-public sex (i guess? no one's around but the location isn't exactly private), a lot of use of pet names (baby, babe, love, mi amor), so much swearing. obviously no one is a minor here I don't mention much context but can be read as hs senior year or later, doesn't really matter. if you're a minor kindly keep away from my blog and this fic please
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“Fuck!”  You yell out as Sensei Lawrence announces Miguel’s win. In turn of your frustration, Miguel sports a grin that playfully mocked you.
Now don’t get it twisted, you’re not a bad fighter. You’re not even a good one- you’re great. The best, except for…
“Diaz! Good one.” Sensei Lawrence praises.
“Nice, dude!” Hawk comes to fist bump him.
Tory comes to you. “Girl get it together! You’re better than that!”
“I’m fucking trying.”
Miguel hears the two of you talking and decides to insert himself into the conversation. “Come on, it’s not a big deal.”
“I say this with love but it is a big deal and I’m gonna find a way to beat you.”
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
[. . .]
“Hey,” you hear Miguel call from behind you, turning around for a split second to look at him before getting back to packing your stuff to leave the dojo. 
“Hey.”
“So, are we still on for tonight?”
“Yeah. I just wanna go home first and take a shower.”
He scratches the back of his neck. “Hey are you okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something seems… weird.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe,” you tell him, bringing a hand to his face and lightly tapping his cheek.
“You sure?”
“Yes! I just said it is!” You realize you blew up at him for no reason, immediately feeling bad for it and apologizing, not managing to look at him. “Sorry.”
“See? That’s what I mean!”
“I really am sorry.”
“Okay, but something’s clearly wrong.”
You stay silent, and he walks up to you, cornering you so you’d face him.
“What’s going on?”
Honestly, you don’t want to tell him. Because it would sound stupid. Because it is stupid. You don’t even exactly know why it had gotten so under your skin this time. 
“It’s fine. I’m just a bit off today.”
“You don’t have to talk about it, but you don't have to lie either.”
“Fine. You wanna know what’s wrong? I’m frustrated because you keep beating me.”
“What?”
“Every single time we’re picked to fight I just can’t fucking beat you. And yes, I’m glad you don’t go easy on me, cause that would be like a million times worse, but I'm frustrated with myself. You’re the only one I've never fully beat in a match. The closest I’ve ever gotten to that was a tie.”
“Well most of the time it ends up in a tie.” 
“Yeah but none of the time did it end with me winning.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”
“Of course you don’t. I just feel like if I still can’t beat you then have I really been getting better?”
“What? That’s nonsense, babe. You know that, right? Of course you’ve been getting better. We all have.”
“See I told you it would be stupid. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way.”
“That’s okay. We can just sort that out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll ask sensei for the keys.”
“What?”
“We’re gonna stay here and fight and we’re not gonna leave until you win.”
“That’s really not what I was trying to get from this-”
“What, are you scared?” He knew just how to tug on your strings. 
“Oh fuck no.”
“Then we’re doing this.”
“But what about the date?”
“We can go tomorrow. If you need my help today, I'll help you today.”
“Okay.”
[. . .]
“Alright, ready?”
You only nod your head yes, too focused to even speak.
“Okay. Round one.”
You get a couple punches in, but he’s faster than most of your hits. He wins..
You huff, annoyed. “Again.”
“Again.”
“Again.”
“Again.”
“Again.”
“Okay that’s it. Again.”
This time, determination runs through your veins, as tired as you were. Every single moment of feeling weak or inferior or as though you were seen by others as basically the female equivalent of Miguel, and not yourself, not someone capable of being better than him in any way, channeled into this round. 
And you won. This time, you fucking won. 
“Wait that’s three,” you realize.
“Yeah! You won!” Miguel celebrates.
“What?”
“You won, babe!”
“Oh my God. Holy fucking shit. I won?!”
He laughs, coming up to you. “You did.” He places a quick kiss on your lips, but you’re taken over by the adrenaline, pulling him back to you by the collar of his shirt when he went to pull away, tangling him into another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time around. “That was hot,” he comments, as you finally did let him part ways with you to breathe, your bodies still flushed together. 
You feel your cheeks burn at his comment. “I just kicked your ass,” you joke.
He doesn’t even seem fazed by the comment. “Yeah you did,” he grins.
“I did not expect that to unlock some sort of loser kink in you.”
“Hey! That’s not what this is!”
You lift an eyebrow, amused. 
“What, you’re telling me it’s a crime if my insanely hot girlfriend looks insanely hot while kicking my ass?”
“Should I kick your ass more often then?”
“You’re welcome to.”
“You’re so weird.”
“Shut up,” he retorts, finally having enough of the playful bantering, unable to wait a second longer to have your lips on his again. 
Miguel pulls you even closer to him- if that were even possible- by pulling on your waist, not wasting a second more before diving in again, pulling you into a kiss that is much more feral this time around. His actions scream that he wants you, and the high from having reached your goal and beat him in the last round mixed with the lust forming in you from seeing him so affected, so attracted to this, it feels good.
You suppose some people would maybe come into an issue if they found themselves in your place. Men aren’t exactly known for being great at dealing with women being better than them in… well, anything. But Miguel acted genuinely proud of you. Hell, he’d canceled your date night to help you with this because he realized it was important to you. And more than being supportive, he was turned on by your display of power. 
His kisses start trailing out of your lips, to your jaw, to the space below your ear. “You did so well, love. You should get something in turn, huh?”
Your mind was getting a bit foggy. Still, you join in playing his game. “I suppose I should. What are you gonna do?”
“Whatever you want me to,” he breathes out. Oh. That was definitely new. 
“Whatever I want?” He only nods, looking up at you, waiting to be told what to do. Holy shit, that was hot. “That sounds good.”
“Just tell me, please, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise,” he pleads. It was almost pathetic. You decide you’d never get enough of hearing him plead like that. You loved the times in which he was more dominant, but you could definitely get behind this too, no issues whatsoever.
You pretend to think. “I don’t think I will.”
“What? Why not?”
“I want you to guess.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I- Uh- Ih-” he takes a deep breath. He liked that. You smiled. “I can do that.”
“Good boy,” you try, hoping he didn’t find it weird. 
Apparently, he didn’t. “Fuck. Fuck,” he lets out in almost strangled sounds, wordlessly dropping himself to the floor. He looks up at you with doe eyes, as if pleading for permission. You smile at him, signaling everything was okay. You cage his jaw with both your hands, and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting you play with his hair.
“You look so pretty like this,” you coo, and he feels it down his spine, his eyes fluttering open. 
“Sit.”
“What?”
“Sit,” he repeats himself, but it isn’t demanding. Not this time. 
“I heard you.”
“Sit, please, baby.”
You grin. You didn’t know you’d like this this much. “Of course, baby.” You sit down on the bench, legs closed. He parts them confidently, eyes not leaving yours as he does so slowly, positioning his body between them. With his face mere inches from yours, he looks up at you again. 
“Do you want me to kiss you?” He guesses. His cheeks red, he clearly looks embarrassed. It turned him on and it turned you on too. 
You nod eagerly, signaling he’d guessed right. He smiles and closes the distance between you, pulling you down and attaching his lips to yours. It starts out slow, tender, experimental- testing the waters. He grows eager pretty fast, though, kissing you harder, his hands traveling to either of your thighs and planting themselves there firmly, squeezing in a way that makes you gasp slightly in surprise. 
He pulls away just to tease you about it. That’s the kind of little shit he is.
“What was that for?”
“Nothing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” 
“Not this then?”
He squeezes your thigh again and you try to act unbothered.” He notices though, pleased with himself.
“Oh shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He pulls you into a kiss again with no warning, more feral than before, his hand traveling upwards, inside the legs of the shorts you were wearing. 
“Take it off,” you pant out, a stern tone overtaking your words, and he complies without questioning. You smile, pleased with that. You lift your hips slightly for him and he throws the shorts somewhere on the floor behind you. 
He stares at your underwear for a few moments, as if lost in a trance. You laugh. “Hello? You here?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”
“Used to what?” You move a hand to caress his face. 
“The fact that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”
“Aw, do you like that, baby? Does it turn you on?” You ask, your tone almost mocking him.
He only nods his head yes, looking embarrassed.
“That’s good.” You make a show to slowly take off your shirt, a sudden surge of confidence running through your veins at his words, discarding it along with the shorts behind you.  His eyes widen and he mumbles a few words, the volume of his words so low you couldn’t make it out for the life of you, before he just surges forward again, not aiming for your lips this time, but for your jaw. 
“What was that?” You manage to breathe out as he continues his trail of kisses along your jaw.
“What?”
“If you’re gonna talk you’re gonna let me hear it. Got it?”
“Oh-okay.” He continues to place quick, slight pecks along your jawline, but you know exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re not distracting me from that. I wanna know what you said, baby. Wanna hear you.”
“I said- I said uh-“ he gulps. “It’s dumb.”
“That’s okay.”
“I just said ‘fuck me’.”
You let out a small laugh. “Oh. It was dumb,” you mock him again, and you can see he didn’t expect that.
“What?”
“I though you wanted to fuck me,” you joke.
 He doesn’t take it as a joke. “I do. I do I just meant- it was just-“ oh. This was for real. 
“I know, love. I was just teasing you. Okay? You’re being so good to me.”
His eyes almost sparkle at the praise. 
“You know I think I changed my mind.”
“What?” 
“Maybe I should fuck you.”
“What do you mean?”
You look down on him and smile, a genuine sweet smile. “Get up.”
“But-“
“I thought you said you’d do whatever i wanted you to,” you fake-pout. 
He doesn’t say a word before standing back up. You do the same, keeping your body flushed to his. You slowly turn the two of you around, cornering him until the back of his knees hit the bench and pushing him to sit down on it. 
Standing in front of him, you tilt your head to the side as you take in the view. He looked disheveled as ever. You loved it. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.
“I- I can take it off.”
“Yeah I think you should.”
“What… what do you want me to take off?”
“Let’s go with the shirt first, baby. How about that?”
He nods furiously. “Yeah I can do that,” he takes his shirt off in a millisecond, throwing it with your clothes on the floor. 
“Oh, you look so pretty,” you coo, stepping closer to him and lifting his chin up to look at you. You make your way around the bench to be behind him, and you can see him gulp in anticipation. Fuck, you were loving this a little too much. You trace his biceps with your finger. “Your arms, I love your arms, you know that? So big and strong,” you exaggerate, and he quirks an eyebrow at the suspicious comment. This doesn’t sound like it was getting to a nice praising place. “And your body, I mean your abs. Your thighs, your thighs are so pretty, baby,” you crouch a bit, still behind him, wrapping yourself around his back so you could snake your arms to his thighs, still only tracing them with a single finger. “So how come you lost to me like a bitch?”
That seems to remind him very well of what was happening.
“It- it was one time.”
“One time you lost to me. But you’ve barely ever won, have you?”
He stays quiet. 
“Come on, baby, talk to me…” you pout, snaking your arms around his torso and kissing his neck.
“N-no.”
“Did you like that you lost to me baby?”
Quiet again.
“Did it turn you on?” You whisper in his ear and you can feel him take in big a breath. .
He couldn’t even look at you .
“Oh, pretty boy, I wanna hear your voice!”
He gulps again. “It- it turned me on,” he confesses. 
“I never knew you were into this sort of thing.”
“Me- me neither.”
“Do you like it when I’m stronger than you? When I tell you what to do?”
You remove yourself from his body entirely, and he whips his head at record speed to look at you, desperate for your touch again. You circle the bench once again, standing in front of him. You grab his jaw and lifts his head up to look at you, your other hand messing with his hair. “So pathetic. I’ve barely done anything to you and you’re this hard.”
You finally sit yourself down on his thighs, legs on either side of his torso, and he immediately and instinctively grabs your ass ‘for support’ as he’s always insisted with a grin. 
“You’re so fucking pathetic you’ll do anything I tell you to. Won’t you?” You pout, tilting your head.
“I’ll- I’ll do anything you want.” 
“That’s a good boy,” you mess with and pet his hair again. You loved it when it was just long enough for his curls to appear. 
He shivers. “Can you say it again?”
“Oh, no can do, baby. You’ll have to keep being a good boy to earn it.”
“I’ll- I’ll be a good boy, okay?”
You nod silently, your arms draped around his neck, and you pull yourself closer to get access to his face. You kiss along his jawline slowly, paying extra attention to the spots just under his ears, which made him shiver like crazy. When you find it sufficient, you move down to his neck, and he lets you, tilting his head to the side. You kiss down his neck, trying your best to not leave any marks. He’s still shivering now, and you know him well enough to know he’s okay, but can’t resist teasing him a bit more. 
“Oh no, baby, you’re trembling! Is everything okay?” You feign ignorance.  He doesn’t reply. “Aw are you too horny to speak to me? Is that the issue?” You mock.
He lifts his hips for some friction, an involuntary tell that he was enjoying this too. “Aw, do you like it when I’m mean to you? Huh?” You lift his chin again. He begrudgingly nods his head yes. You smile and move your hand from his chin to his cheeks, squeezing both off them. “Does my baby like it when I’m in control? When I handle you like this? When I call you names?” 
He tries to reply, but can’t really with you squeezing his face like that. 
“Oh I can’t hear you baby!” You let go of his face. “You’re gonna have to say it again.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I- I like it when you’re mean to me.” 
“I know, baby boy. I can feel it.” With no other warning, you palm him through his shorts. He was impossibly hard. Knowing he was liking this was for sure improving your confidence. The moment your hand meets his crotch his breathing becomes unsteady and he thrusts his hips up again, wanting more. You start kissing along his neck as you keep feeling him up through the shorts, and then he is gone. He lets himself let out delicious moans you would play on repeat if you could, tilting his head back to grant you better access to his neck. He wants more, and you know he does. But you want to hear him say it. 
After a few minutes, he does. 
“Please take it off.”
You press a gentle kiss to his neck, containing a grin. “What are you talking about, babe?”
“My shorts, take them off, please. Please, take them off.”
You press a quick peck on his lips this time. “You beg so pretty, baby. I think I’ll need more of that.”
He looks confused.
“Anything I tell you, right?” 
He nods. 
“Good. Eat me out.”
His eyes widen at the bluntness of it all. And then he realizes what you meant by needing more of his begging: you weren’t going to solve his little problem all that soon. 
“I- yes. Yeah.” 
You pull yourself off of him and he stands up as quickly as humanly possible, grabbing your hand and yanking you to Sensei’s office, rushing to move everything that was on his desk. You catch his drift and pull yourself up to sit on it. You’re so enthralled you don’t even really have the time to rethink what you’re doing and where you are. Miguel gets himself on his knees, and the sight of it from above is breathtaking. 
“Are you sure you wanna be on your knees? They’re gonna hurt.” You ask him, seriously this time.
“I don’t care,” is all he says, dismissing the thought. He pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, and you let yourself lean back on your elbows. He brings a hand up your thigh and takes off your underwear, you lift your hips up to help. 
He brings both his hands to your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, opening your legs. 
He wastes no time before diving in, startling you when, in a second, his head is between your thighs while his hands squeeze them hard and his mouth is suddenly on you. 
He moves his tongue up and down your clit, occasionally circling around it. Now and then he takes a long lick, from your hole to your clit, letting out a moan from time to time as he tastes you, and he picks up on the shaky breaths and loud moans you let out at that (and the way your hands fly to his hair, slightly pulling it.) 
He moves his tongue to your hole, licking and kissing around it before getting it inside.
It makes you almost want to scream out his name. 
“Oh my god. You’re being so good to me, baby. Please don’t stop-” 
You can feel his smile. 
He takes one of his hands off of your thigh and moves it to thumb at your clit as he keeps fucking you with his tongue. The feeling is heavenly, but you can’t help but want more. 
“Your fingers.” Is all you say, and he gets it.
Normally in a situation like this he’d be teasing you in some way, but right now just the thought of upsetting you with that and having you leaving him to finish himself off, or something down that lane, got him quiet. 
He changes what he’s doing, going back to flicking your clit with his tongue, and slowly inserting one of his fingers. You decide you want to tease a bit more. “That all you got?” You challenge him, knowing exactly what you’re doing. He inserts another finger, not taking the care to do it slowly this time, and he pushes them deep inside you, curling them upwards to make sure you felt it.
You let out a moan that’s so pornographic you’re almost embarrassed at it, but you can feel him grin at it, pleased with the reaction. He keeps on, but at a slow pace. In other instances, you didn’t mind some slow, passionate sex. You loved it, even. But right now you wanted to be fucked.
“Harder.”
He pulls his head up to kiss you. You let him. As you make out, your taste still on his tongue, his fingers thrust harder, deeper inside you, making you moan into his mouth, which Miguel seemed to enjoy a little too much.
You can feel yourself brimming an orgasm, and your words become nonsense as he keeps on, your noises becoming so higher-pitched you can barely register you’re the one making them. 
“Fuck I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy fucking-“
It hits you suddenly, killing your train of thought. Your body trembles as he keeps thrusting his fingers into you, letting you ride out your high. He laps it all up gladly, but you pull him away, your clit oversensitive. 
That doesn’t mean you didn’t want more.
“Everything okay?” 
“Yes, baby. You were such a good boy. But I want you to fuck me now.” 
Miguel was still not used to you being this blunt. And honestly neither were you, for the matter. The words just kept coming out. 
“What- what do you want me to do?” 
You get close to his ear and whisper. “Whatever you want, baby.”
His eyes widen. Whatever he wants. 
 He pulls you off the desk and wordlessly takes you back to the locker room. He leaves you for a second to retrieve a condom from his bag. A prepared man, you’d say.
You manage to take a better look at him and laugh. He furrows his eyebrows together. “What?”
“You look so fucked out right now.”
He rolls his eyes at you and takes off his shorts, kicking them away. He goes to pull his boxers down but you stop him, stroking him in an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a groan. “Please stop, I’m not gonna last.”
“Oh poor you.” You yank his boxers down. His dick is so hard it must be painful. And all from losing a fight and being called mean names. He walks the two of you backwards until your back is against a wall. He puts the condom on and looks at you for a green light. 
“Go on, baby.” 
He nods, pressing his cock into your hole slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion.
“Fuck.” You breathe out.
“Was that a good fuck or a bad fuck? Does it hurt?”
“I’m alright. It was a good fuck.”
“Okay.” He hikes up one of your legs to his waist, and you think he’ll be content with that position, but he hikes up your other leg too, pressing your back even more firmly to the wall and supporting your weight by holding firmly onto the back of your thighs. 
“Woah what are you doing?”
He doesn’t bother responding, thrusting into you experimentally. 
“Holy shit.”
That is enough for him. His thrusts become harder, deeper, faster. He hadn’t realized just how desperate he was until now. 
Hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars with every thrust, it doesn’t take long for his breath to quicken and his thrusts to become sloppier. “I’m gonna- can I-“
Was he trying to ask for permission to cum? Holy fucking shit, that was hot.
“Shh, it’s okay baby. You’ve been so good. You can cum.”
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he chanted.
 You laugh as his desperation, but it quickly turns into a moan, with Miguel eager to cum and fucking you so hard now you can’t even understand how he could still hold up your weight while doing that. Bless you universe for giving you a strong, strong boyfriend. But all of that didn’t matter now, because he was fucking you so good you could feel the familiar sensation of an orgasm building again.
“Please don’t stop.” That was the first time you begged him for something the whole time.
“I won’t, mi amor.” Oh, that broke you. That one pet name didn’t come out all that frequently, so when it did, you felt giddy on the inside. 
With a few more thrusts, both of you reach your high, and at that point Miguel did have to pull you down, although your legs currently trembled so hard it was a little difficult to stand, but he helps you out after tying the condom up and throwing it away.
“Holy shit,” you finally let out. 
“Holy shit,” he agrees. 
“What were you saying about your loser kink again?”
“Will you shut up about that?” He smiles.
“Was I too mean to you? I might’ve gotten a little carried away."
He looks down to the floor in embarrassment as if he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion. “I liked it.”
“That’s good baby. So, shower?”
“Yeah you stink,” he makes a disgusted face, plugging his nose and everything just to irritate you. 
You roll your eyes at him. 
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A/N: pls be kind to me and cut me some slack i've never posted smut before 😭 i promise ive had sex before 😭 fighting for my life lmao
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idliketobeatree · 8 months ago
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listening to Too Sweet for the first time and, damn, Crowley never got his flat back, did he? can't believe he's been crashing on Hozier's couch all this time drinking booze and waxing lamentations about his angel. strange world we live in
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blackknight-kai · 2 months ago
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Had one of those thoughts today about Wukong (Destined One too).
You’d be all over him right? Not meaning sexually, but you’d be sooooo happy to know how soft his fur feels and how freaking warm he is and nice it is to be cuddled in his arms and rub your cheek on his furry self. He’s just so NICE to touch.
At first he’d be a bit difficult about it as much as it boosts his ego, because he wouldn’t be used to it. But then he slowly falls in love with it and is addicted to having you close to him and petting through his fur or scratching him a little as you guys fall asleep or are resting.
But you’ve made a fatal mistake. As the nights get warmer and don’t cool off you’re now plastered to a fucking living furnace and you’re sweating and his fur is sticking to you uncomfortably. Sleep is NOT coming easy to you.
So you roll out of his arms or push him away because ugh it’s too damn hot! And you’re irritable because you feel sticky and gross.
He’d be so fucking offended.
Guarantee his first thought is “Excuse the fuck out of me? What do you think you’re doing?”
Because he is a KING! And you have shown him the best most addicting thing on this planet and you’re just taking it away from him? Absolutely not.
Be prepared for struggle cuddles.
Destined One would be similar but less vocal about it. I feel like he’d glower at you from the spot you’d left him before huffing petulantly and just dragging you back, locking his arms, legs, and tail around you like a VICE. You aren’t going anywhere.
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stellewriites · 28 days ago
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PART ONE
summary: by chance you and your emotionally unavailable husband meet a friendly couple that invite you stay at their farmhouse in scotland. however the time spent there with johnny & kyle has you questioning if there's a dark side to them you didn't see before.
a speak no evil au - masterlist
notes: manipulative johnny & kyle, piv, noncon, somno, never explicitly acknowledged abusive relationship between reader and her husband (financial, physical, emotional, coercive control), drinking, murder, it's dead dove horror people!! heed the warnings
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you picked at the buttery croissant on the plate in front of you, trying your best to block out the sound of your husband’s voice as it grew more frustrated by the minute. you pitied the poor soul he was berating on the other end of the line, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad enough to try and stop him, to turn his ire against you instead.
he wouldn’t listen to you anyway, hadn’t the first few times you’d asked when you’d first arrived on your honeymoon.
you scoffed quietly and shoved a bite into your mouth, chewing obstinately. two years late, but sure. your honeymoon.
elliot sighed heavily, and threw his phone down onto the table, rattling your coffee and gaining the attention of nearby hotel staff. “i work with fucking idiots, christ. how hard is it to follow instructions?”
“it’s why they keep you around, smartest one on your team,” you said appeasingly, the same rote answer you always gave him when he got in his moods.
“smartest one at the whole fucking firm more like,” he scoffed. you cringed at the scornful looks sent your way from the other couples on the retreat. “useless. the lot of them.”
the french riviera had been a dream destination for you for years, one elliot had known about from early in your dating days. the holiday he’d booked was all inclusive; tailored to honeymooners specifically with romantic activities on and off site and transport easily accessible in order to explore the area.
you felt as though you should’ve been having the time of your life as you sat eating breakfast looking over the beautiful beach view, but you’d never felt emptier. the sight of happy couples around you day after day had only highlighted your husband’s distance.
elliot had promised this trip would change things for you both, for your relationship, but the last six days had proven the opposite. if he wasn’t busy and distracted on his phone, elliot was complaining about the quality of the food, the amenities, even the bloody people.
it was too much and just the morning before you’d been tempted to ask him to cut the fortnight away short when he’d gotten an urgent email and then a frantic call from his boss.
you’d sighed in relief when he’d left you to wander the local area by yourself for the day; happy to escape his negativity for an hour even as you felt guilty for thinking so. you knew he worked hard, you knew his job was important, and his work meant you could afford your luxury apartment in London and be able to take trips like this one without stressing over the cost.
you’d taken the time to go to the market you’d read about on the plane, the place des lices, and tried every free sample of cheese that had been waved your way once you’d gotten there. but you hadn’t been the only one from your hotel to take advantage of the famous food stalls as you recognised the deep scottish brogue of one half of the couple that were staying in the room next to yours; it rose even above the busy hum of french chatter easily.
you’d turned your head and smiled when you caught his pretty husband’s eyes before turning back to the stall merchant and buying a chunk of fresh camembert for elliot to try. you’d been eyeing up the fruit stall further down and were debating the brie too if you spotted some good cranberry jam.
“you’re from the hotel, right?” you suddenly heard from your left. you turned to find the couple a lot closer than before, apparently taking your polite smile as invitation to join you. “i’ve seen you at the pool before. I’m kyle, this is my husband, johnny.”
“nice t’meet ye.”
you’d introduced yourself and shook their hands once your cheese was carefully packed into your tote bag.
“where’s yer chatty husband?” johnny asked, eyes scanning the crowd.
you flushed, a creeping sense of embarrassment rising as you thought of elliot back at the hotel shooing you off before you’d even sat for breakfast.
“oh he had some emergency at work he had to deal with,” you excused. “didn’t need me hanging around distracting him, so i went for a walk.”
“you’re on your own?” kyle asked with a concerned frown.
“yeah, but i don’t mind. i travelled alone a lot before we were together. i’m used to my own company,” you said with a soft laugh.
the pair swapped a silent look before focusing back on you. “well, we’d be happy to have ye if you’re feeling lonely, bonnie,” johnny offered. “we were thinkin’ of goin’ wine tasting after this now that we’ve got our snacks, if you’d like to join.”
you chuckled as johnny raised their bag and wiggled his eyebrows.
“i wouldn’t want to intrude.” you shook your head.
“it beats heading back to the hotel,” kyle cajoled. “unless you had other plans?”
you pursed your lips before letting a small, shy smile grow. “ok. wine tasting sounds fun.”
you had spent the afternoon laughing and eating the cheese, bread and fruits you’d bought at the market over glasses of wine with johnny and kyle, a wide smile never leaving your lips even as the three of you stumbled back up the steps to the hotel.
your phone had stayed silent the entire day and it wasn’t until you were waving goodbye to your new friends and opening the door to your hotel room that you wondered if elliot would be annoyed at you for staying out so long without contacting him.
you smiled a little shakily as you caught him leaving the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips. “good day?”
“fixed their mess if that’s what you mean,” elliot huffed, but he turned to you with a satisfied smile and nodded. he dipped his head down and kissed you sweetly. “what about you? good day?”
“mhm,” you hummed, your smile settling more firmly on your face at his easy mood. “i went wine tasting.”
“oh?” elliot grinned, looking at you a little closer and taking in the signs of your slight inebriation, the way you swayed slightly on your feet and the almost sleepy glaze over your eyes.
“met a few new friends,” you said. “johnny and kyle.”
elliot stiffened for a moment before smiling again, less genuine and with a sharper edge this time. “oh? that’s nice. i’ll be free to spend the day doing whatever you’d like tomorrow, darling. no need for friends on our honeymoon.”
“you will?” you asked as you started to undress, surprised he wasn’t asking for an extra day to check everything with work had settled. you didn’t look the gift horse in the mouth however. “there’s a great market i saw today we could go to. i wouldn’t mind going twice, the cheese is amazing—“
“sure, sure. fine. let’s just sleep now, yeah? i’m exhausted after today,” elliot interrupted as he dried himself off before climbing into bed.
“of course, yeah. we can figure it out over breakfast.”
which brought you back to now, with your croissant and your husband and your beach view and the ever growing pit of disappointment.
you skimmed your eyes over the other couples sat on the veranda with you and felt jealousy bubble and spit in your stomach. it was the small things you longed for, the easy affection you craved; legs hooked together under the table, feeding each other, shy smiles shared behind mugs, little jokes whispered on the breeze.
you felt tears prickle at your eyes unexpectedly and wiped at them hastily before elliot could notice.
“bonnie?” your head whipped up at the familiar voice and you smiled automatically at johnny and kyle as they made their way over. johnny was in a pair of shorts, and you saw a knee brace peek out from the hem.
“mind if we join you?” kyle asked, already pulling out a chair at your eager nod, ignoring the deep frown on elliot’s face.
“and you are?” elliot asked rudely, looking between the two men.
“this is johnny and kyle, the couple i told you about last night.” you laid a gentle hand on elliot’s forearm.
“oh, the wine tasters. right.”
“heard you were busy saving yer boss’ arse yesterday,” johnny said with a pinched smile. “yer bonnie wife didnae mention what ye did though?”
“i work for a powerful man looking after his money,” elliot explained vaguely, with an air of condescension.
you noticed kyle wave over a waitress and quietly order for both him and johnny, his palm settled firmly on johnny’s thigh beneath the table.
“oh aye? tha’s a lotta responsibility then. no wonder yer always looking so stressed on yer phone,” johnny laughed.
“oi, be nice, john,” kyle scolded, but the smile teasing the corner of his lips took away any bite the reprimand held.
“sorry, uh, emmet, was it?”
“elliot,” you corrected quickly.
johnny snapped his fingers and nodded. “right, right. sorry, my memory’s not what it used to be.” he waved at a rough scar at the side of his head.
“so how long have you two been together?” kyle asked as their drinks arrived. you saw elliot sniff at the vast amount of sugar kyle poured into his tea.
“five years,” you answered at the same time elliot answered, four years. you turned to him with a frown. “we’ve been married for two. we met before your promotion, remember?”
“are you sure, darling?” elliot asked.
“yes, elliot. i’m sure.”
kyle and johnny watched silently, eyebrows raised until you turned back to your croissant with a tense jaw.
“time flies ‘n all that,” johnny said, hoping to ease your tension.
“right.” you nodded. “what about you guys? been together long?”
“been stuck with him for a decade now,” kyle huffed, patting his hand on johnny’s leg.
“been blessed by me, more like, cheeky sod,” johnny muttered.
you laughed as kyle leant in to kiss his cheek obnoxiously. “met in the forces, just clicked.”
“been together ever since i caught him starin’ in the showers,” johnny boasted with a grin.
elliot shifted uncomfortably in his chair and johnny’s grin dropped minisculely and his eyes hardened.
“what’re yer plans today then, bonnie?”
“oh, uhm, we’re not quite sure yet,” you said looking to elliot. “maybe the market since elliot missed it yesterday?”
“you should join us on our cruise along the coast,” kyle said. “just us and the captain, and a fair bit of booze; views are meant to be unmissable.”
“sounds better than a market,” elliot chuffed before shrugging. “sure, why not?”
“really?” you were more than surprised elliot was willingly agreeing to spend more time with kyle and johnny given how on edge he’d been just sat with them the last ten minutes.
“what d’ye say, bon?” johnny leant over the small table with a smile, taking up enough space for you to feel surprisingly cornered.
“pretty hard to say no to ‘unmissable’,” you said and forced a laugh.
“great,” kyle said and johnny slumped back into his seat, throwing an arm around the back of kyle chair. “we’ve got an hour before we’re meant to be there so eat up, love.”
elliot bristled at their familiarity with you and wrapped his own arm around the back of your chair, his hand curling around your shoulder and squeezing just a tad too tight. “she’s already eaten.”
“what, that little pastry?” johnny laughed. “you’ll need yer energy for what we’ve got planned, hen.” johnny winked.
you felt yourself flush involuntarily, your heart thumped and your eyes widened at the accidental insinuation and you knew elliot had heard it the same way going by the agitated tap of his leg beneath the table.
“i’ll probably just have another coffee,” you said placating, and smiled thinly when elliot kissed your temple. “i can grab something for on the boat or afterwards maybe.”
“that’s my girl,” elliot spoke into your hair.
---
while kyle and johnny finished up their breakfast, you nipped back into your room to change into your swimwear underneath your dress and met them along with elliot at the steps leading down to the beach.
once you’d left the dock and were deep enough in the water that it became a mesmerising dark blue, it didn’t take much convincing to have you jump in the water with johnny as the boat idled in place. elliot had waved you off with a dismissive glance at his phone when you asked if he’d join and kyle had promised to have the towels ready when you’d both ran out of energy.
“not joining them?” elliot asked, sparing a quick glance at kyle as he sat down next to your husband.
“figured i’d keep you company ‘til johnny climbs back on board. we’re temporary neighbours after all, yeah?” kyle said. he looked over the side of the boat and shook his head at his husband splashing you despite your giggly squeals of outrage. “married for two years?” he asked out of the blue and waited for elliot to hum his agreement. “what you doing on a honeymoon trip then, if you don’t mind me asking?”
elliot sighed frustratedly as he locked his phone and put it down beside him, knowing he was going to get nothing done with kyle yammering by his side. “we’re busy people, only just found the time together to go.”
kyle raised his eyebrows in shock. “busy indeed.” he looked to elliot’s phone. “got any photos of the wedding?”
elliot nodded once, and not enthusiastically enough for kyle’s liking, as he pulled up the photo folder you’d made on his phone titled ‘happily ever after 🩷’ before handing it to kyle to flip through.
the younger man whistled lowly, eyes glued to the screen as he pinched and moved the photos to zoom in. elliot noticed how he paused on the photos of you, but flicked through the others quickly, not bothering to stop quick enough to take in your bridesmaids’ dresses or the expensive tiered cake or elliot’s flash suit.
he snatched his phone back when kyle licked his lips at a photo of you dancing with your friends.
“lovely gown,” kyle said with a smirk as he watched elliot seethe. “you really got lucky, eh? punching up like that.”
elliot’s eyes squinted in a glare. “excuse me?”
“come on, mate. you can be honest, it’s why you worry about the job, right? you want to keep that going for you so she doesn’t leave you in the dust,” kyle continued to goad him.
“it’s not me that needs to worry about being left behind,” elliot spat. he rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw to hide his burgeoning smug look, but kyle saw it in his eyes, the self-satisfaction. “i’ve got options. plenty at that.”
kyle stared at him with a blank face. “oh yeah?”
elliot laughed meanly and dropped his hand. “oh yeah.” he tapped his phone against his palm for a moment, seemingly debating something before freezing as he heard you and johnny climb the short ladder back up to the deck, laughing all the while.
“done in already?” kyle asked, his mood already lighter.
“johnny’s knee is aching, thought he could rest it and we’d get a quick drink,” you answered with a wide smile, reaching for one of the beers stored in the boats built-in cooler and handing one to johnny.
“bonnie was jus’ telling me how she used to live in a much smaller area when she was younger,” johnny said as you both sat down opposite to your partners. “but you live in london now?”
“what is it with you two? always asking bloody questions,” elliot complained, hiding his unease behind a laugh.
“just making conversation, mate,” kyle said tersely.
you felt the air grow awkward and jumped in before your husband could make it worse.
“we moved to london for elliot’s work,” you said.
“and you like it?” kyle’s inquisitive, dark eyes had you willing to be more truthful than you would usually be, especially with near strangers.
“i have to admit… i’d always thought we’d be somewhere further from the city; its what i’d always wanted and elliot said he’d liked the idea of somewhere quieter. we met in my home town after all.” you caught elliot’s scornful eye and ducked your head. “but it just didn’t go that way in the end. and london is lovely, the apartment is— lovely.”
“you ever been to scotland?” johnny asked. “the countryside is like nothin’ you’ve ever seen up there.”
kyle nodded. “we’ve lived on the edge of falkland for a few years now; feels like the middle of nowhere sometimes. doesn’t get much better, i haven’t missed the city for years.”
“one of the best decisions we ever made,” johnny agreed, leaning over to kiss gaz softly.
you sighed wistfully.
“don’t think the hills would agree with my dear wife, but maybe we’ll take a trip up there some time,” elliot said unconvincingly. you swallowed thickly at his thinly veiled dig.
“when you’re not so busy, yeah?” kyle said staring your husband down.
elliot’s lips thinned. “yeah.”
“so how’re you finding france so far?” johnny asked. “enjoying yer stay?”
elliot sniffed. “could be better. from how this one went on about the place i was expecting a hell of a lot more,” he said snidely, gesturing to you flippantly. “i’d have picked bali personally.”
your shoulders hunched even as you felt indignation and anger burn the back of your throat. it wasn’t your fault elliot wasn’t taking advantage of the holiday, the lush area and the activities that promised to be unforgettable if given the chance. you knew you’d remember going in the sea with johnny for years to come, but you doubted you’d remember the boring dinners you’d been having with elliot in a month’s time, or at least not so fondly.
“think i’d have put the trip off for longer if i knew what this place was going to be like,” elliot laughed. “in fact—“
“why don’t you shut the fuck up fer once and let yer pretty wife speak, eh?” johnny cut him off with a sarcastic smile.
elliot was shocked into silence and you found yourself stuttering as kyle and johnny focused on you.
“what do you do when you’re not on a late honeymoon, love?” kyle asked.
“uhm, i don’t actually work currently,” you admitted sheepishly, your eyes darted to your husband as he grew redder in the face. “elliot makes enough to cover us financially and finding something in london was harder than expected after i had to suddenly quit my previous job when we moved.”
kyle and johnny cooed sympathetically.
“i’ve picked up painting recently though, which has been different. not necessarily any good at it, but i like it,” you said.
“an artist? yer after my heart, hen. i sketch a little myself,” johnny said. “now ye’ll have to come visit us just so you can paint the views.”
kyle was quick to pull out his phone to share some photos. he stopped on one of johnny on the top of a steep, grassy hill; his arms thrown up the air, backpack on the ground next to him and a wide grin stretched across his face, his mohawk a little longer than it was now and a mess in the wind.
“wow, it’s gorgeous there,” you gushed, trying not to focus on johnny’s strong stance highlighted by the rising sun behind him.
“that’s the view just behind our house,” kyle grinned. “forty minute hike to get there, at most.”
you gawped. “no way.”
johnny nodded.
“think you’re maybe overestimating her painting skills there, boys,” elliot snickered as he looked at the photo. “if you saw what she’s done so far you’d realise it’s definitely just a new hobby.”
“show us,” kyle suggested kindly, not bothering to look at elliot.
you hesitated before reaching for your bag and pulling out your phone. you handed it over with a shy smile.
“oi, these are good, bonnie,” johnny said immediately, stood looking over kyle’s shoulder. his brow was pulled into a frown as he concentrated.
“i’d buy ‘em,” kyle added, looking up at you to smile.
“ha! right, yeah,” you laughed, thinking he was teasing. you put down your beer and took your phone back, dropping it into your bag. you leant in to kiss elliot’s cheek and stood. “who’s going to join me in the water? elliot?”
“i don’t think so, darling. maybe another time,” he said.
“i will.” kyle stood. “did johnny show you how to dive off the front?”
your eyes widened in excitement as you shook your head and followed him, waving at the captain sat at the helm of the small boat as you passed.
johnny watched the pair of you go before turning to glare at elliot silently, not breaking eye contact even as your husband frowned and shifted uneasily, eventually looking down at his phone to avoid johnny’s unwavering, cold gaze.
---
“i don’t like them,” elliot said once you were back in your hotel that evening.
“who? johnny and kyle?”
“who else?” elliot scoffed. “they’re too familiar with you, they— they fawn over you. flirt relentlessly, in front of me—“
“oh come on,” you laughed, unable to stop yourself even as elliot grew angrier at your casual dismissal. “they’re married, don’t be bloody daft.”
“don’t call me stupid.” elliot warned.
“i’m not, i just—“
“whether they’re actually interested in you or not isn’t the point,” elliot seethed. “they’re doing it to wind me up. to get away with humiliating me and you encourage them.”
“i— what? we were just having fun,” you said.
“oh i know, i saw how you clung to them in the water when you thought i wasn’t looking. fucking slut.”
you gaped at elliot, taken aback by his harsh words and sharp tone. you took in a deep breath and tried to level your own voice.
“they’re just friendly.” you bit your cheek. “if anything, you’re just jealous i’m getting more attention than you for once.”
“what was that?” elliot whipped around to face you and you felt your blood run cold even before he took a step towards you. he gripped you roughly by the back of your neck and tugged you forward so his lips rested at your temple and you followed limply, keeping your hands by your sides. “you better not play up tomorrow, darling. whatever they offer, we’re busy. this our honeymoon, not a fucking jolly for you to try and meet other men.”
you seethed in his hold, furious at his accusations and the irony of his ill-placed jealousy. but all the same you nodded gently. “ok, elliot.”
“good.” he kissed your round cheek with a loud, sarcastic smack before turning towards the bathroom. he shed his clothes as he walked, leaving them in a trail you knew he expected you to pick up and closed the door behind him, leaving you stood motionless in the centre of the hotel room.
---
you dodged johnny’s bright grin and kyle’s sweet invites to hang out over the last week of your holiday with a pained grimace.
after the first few mornings of suddenly stilted conversation over breakfast, they stopped joining you and elliot and you were happy they were able to continue enjoying their honeymoon even if you weren’t.
elliot didn’t say in so many words, but he didn’t trust you not to gallivant off if left alone like before, so you were stuck waiting in the admittedly lavish hotel room on the days elliot got pulled back into work over the phone and on his laptop. too important to leave until later, he’d said. but he’d promised each time to take you out for a dinner that had continued to be forgotten about.
with only a few days left you were stuck waiting by the road, the little moped you’d rented for the day parked and so far unused while elliot nipped back up to the hotel to grab his sunglasses. it’d been twenty minutes already and part of you wondered if he’d gotten lost. you wished he’d left the keys with you instead of pocketing them so you could keep yourself entertained with a quick ride around the block, get used to the feel of the bike before joining onto the main road.
a squeaky horn, two beeps in quick succession, had you flinching from your moody thoughts and looking up as kyle and johnny pulled to a stop in front of you.
“long time no see, love,” kyle said. he nodded down at the bike with a grin. “where you off to?”
“and can we join?” johnny asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.
you snorted. “nowhere. not until elliot comes back at least.” you shrugged. “he’s got the keys,” you explained.
“how about we take you for a quick ride then,” johnny offered and kyle immediately started getting off from behind him.
“no, no i couldn’t. thank you. elliot will be back any second, im sure,” you said quickly, worried elliot would grow mad if he saw you sat behind johnny on the bike.
“ok, love,” kyle placated. “how about we swap numbers then, in case we don’t get to see you before your trip is up? i want to see more of your paintings.”
“we’re off home in about two days or so, figured yours would be about the same,” johnny said.
“what about email?” you suggested instead. your couples therapist had suggested regularly reading each others texts to try and gain back trust between the pair of you. the irony that it was now you trying to hide a conversation in your phone wasn’t lost on you, but you knew elliot wouldn’t want you talking to them after this trip. “i can get pretty chatty in a text, so email might be better,” you lied flimsily.
“sure,” johnny nodded along, clearly not believing you. “whatever you’d like.”
“you can have john’s email,” kyle said with a smirk, the expression growing when the scot sighed and swatted at kyle’s thigh behind him.
you watched them with confused amusement until johnny read out his email.
“wow. that’s very myspace of you,” you laughed even as johnny rolled his eyes.
“soap’s an old nickname, you’ll probably hear me call him gaz sometimes too. old habits,” johnny explained.
“from the military?” you confirmed and they nodded.
“i say it when i want him to listen. gets him standing to attention when i call him soap,” kyle said teased.
“anything you do gets me standing to attention, handsome,” johnny said, sultry and playful.
“oh piss off,” kyle laughed as he pushed johnny’s face away, pretending to groan in disgust when johnny caught his wrist and messily kissed his palm. you felt your stomach clench at the brief sight of his tongue poking between kyle’s fingers, lapping at the webbing before he let him go.
his tongue there and gone again in a second. you’d almost think you’d imagined it if you didn’t see the spit glisten in the sun before kyle wiped it on his shorts.
you blinked to clear your head and turned away even as the thought of johnny’s mouth around kyle’s fingers replayed over and over in your head.
turning away meant you caught sight of elliot making his way back. it had your thoughts sobering and you looked back to the couple with an apologetic smile. “i’ll see you guys later hopefully, but if not i hope you enjoy the rest of your honeymoon guys.”
“ye trying to get rid o’ us?” johnny pouted, mischief clear in his eyes.
“no, but I know elliot will want to set off straight away so—“
“we know when we’re not wanted, love,” kyle sighed, winking at you to soften the words and let you know they weren’t offended, just pulling your pigtails. “take a hint, johnny, let’s go check out the beach.”
“aye aye, sir,” johnny saluted lazily before revving the moped back to life and waving at you over his shoulder.
“ready to go?” you jumped slightly at elliot’s voice behind you, you hadn’t realised he was so close already and when you turned around you could see he was tense.
“ready when you are,” you said and moved out of the way of the bike.
elliot didn’t mention johnny or kyle and you were thankful; the day had barely begun, you didn’t need an argument to ruin it already.
you swung your leg over the bike behind him and cuddled close, smiling when elliot rubbed a warm palm over your bare knee next to his thigh. today could be good if you just let it, you reminded yourself as elliot set off clumsily.
you lifted your head from his back once he’d managed to get the hang of controlling the moped a little better, becoming confident on the roads after a few minutes, but you wished you hadn’t.
his collar was rustling in the wind and had slipped loose around his shoulder, revealing a smudged lipstick mark previously hidden by his button up overshirt. you felt your breath hitch, unable to look away even as your eyes started to burn.
your gut clenched and rolled unpleasantly, like you could throw up any moment but your jaw was firmly clenched closed. your hands shook where they were holding elliot at the waist and you finally clenched your eyes closed.
with trembling lips, you held back a sob.
today could be good if you let it, you repeated. so let it.
---
you didn’t see kyle or johnny before you left and you didn’t mention what you saw to elliot either.
instead you went back to london, to the dreary rain and the empty flat and the weekly couples’ appointments.
you lied when your therapist asked how your honeymoon went. you grinned and turned to elliot with wide sparkling eyes and reach for his hand to hold between yours as you simpered, “simply perfect.”
but it wasn’t and elliot new it.
the breaking point was when johnny sent your throw-away email account a message one afternoon with a photo attached at the bottom. you grinned when it loaded on your laptop and you zoomed in to see your smiling face, then kyle’s, then johnnys.
it had been taken on the boat on your way back to the dock after a long day swimming and drinking and laughing. elliot had kept to himself for most of the trip unless spoken to, but after an hour you’d managed to ignore him well enough. it wasn’t until kyle pulled him up on your way back, slapped his phone into elliot’s hand and asked him to take a photo of the three of you with the water and island in the background that you remembered he was there.
“elliot, be a good lad and take the photo for us won’t ya?”
“why not ask the captain—“
“he’s done enough dealing with us fer the day, aye? oh— wait, did ye want tae be in it with us?”
“no. thank you.”
they’d thrown their arms around you, pushing and pulling you to their liking until you were stood by the edge of the boat, and smiled. your shoulders were sensitive where johnny’s arm laid over the top - sunburnt you thought at the time - and your hair was still wet from your last dip, but your smile was wide and glowing even as elliot had gritted his teeth.
despite his grumbles he’d done as asked and you’d been dying to see the photo ever since when johnny cooed, “aw, lovely photo to remember ya by.”
now you felt your cheeks heat as you saw how your swim shorts had rucked up high on your thighs, damp and clinging, showing off more skin than you’d realised. your swimsuit at least covered your stomach and cleavage well enough, though johnny’s hand on your shoulder held one of the thick strings of your suit where it had tied at the back of your neck. he was in the middle of playing with it, tugging it so it was taut but not enough to loosen the bow. you don’t remember feeling him pull at the string holding your suit up over your breasts, though you were distracted by the tight hold gaz had on your waist, the handful he’d grabbed as he knocked your hips together.
god no wonder elliot had gotten mad that evening. if you hadn’t known the two were married, you’d have assumed they were trying to get between your legs by this photo alone.
you read the message johnny had sent along with it.
missin you and yer sweet laugh, bonnie!
forgot to send the photo earlier, i think the three of us look well fit, we’ll have to go swimming gain sometime. gaz suggested leucate plage if yer still in love wih france, but im sure there’s a few different au naturel beaches we could try ;)
you sputtered a laugh at that, scoffing at the idea of going to a nude beach especially with those two. bloody hell, elliot would have a fit, you thought gleefully.
but for now we thought you could come visit us like we’d said before? the countryside could be good for you and the ol’ ball n chain. we’d be happy t have ye both for the week, we’ve got the room. just let us know, yeah?
yer handsome pal,
johnny
you shook your head at his theatrics. emailing johnny felt like having a slightly unhinged penpal and reading his emails never failed to brighten up your day, you could hear him in the way he typed. you also loved when you assumed gaz would steal the phone to use his account to talk to you, the lack of scots and shorthand was always a dead giveaway between the two.
you bit your lip and found some of the photos he’d sent previously of their home and garden. it was gorgeous simply put and although the anxiety of admitting to elliot that you’d kept in contact with them had your palms sweating, the deep urge to go visit them ultimately won out.
you bit the bullet over dinner that same night. steak, specially made to soften elliot’s mood.
not that it helped much.
“what?” he dropped his cutlery and pushed back from his seat, needing distance from you as he processed you’d been lying to him. “why would you do that?”
you didn’t have an answer. or not one that elliot would like, so you felt yourself begin to shrug before you thought back to your last session.
“our therapist said it could be good for the relationship if i made some friends separate to yours,” you said.
“she also said you needed to focus trying more with my friends,” elliot reminded.
“but your friends aren’t offering to stay with us for a week in the highlands, elliot. if they were then i’d be all for it!”
“so if i tell my friends that we’ll spend christmas at the ski lodge with them this year, you won’t whine about wanting to be at home together, this time,” he challenged.
you swallowed. he knew you hated skiing and his bitchy judgmental rich friends. it wasn’t even as though it was his easy going friends that liked to go, it was the worst of the bunch that purposely left you out or talked down to you, made it impossible to try without embarrassing yourself.
but fine. you could deal with that this year if it meant your friendship with kyle and johnny was allowed to grow.
“sure,” you said with an obviously fake casual shrug. “so we can go?”
elliot huffed. you sprung out your next argument.
“our therapist also said it was important to let me take the lead a few times. in order to let me regai—“
“regain some power in the relationship, yeah, i know. i was there.” elliot nodded. he seemed to think it over. “this will help you trust me again?”
you reached across the table and held his hand, smiling at him hopefully when he looked back at you. you tried not to think of the lipstick stain in france, tried not to let the hurt cloud you eyes. “yes.” you stood and walked to stand by his chair, chest warming when he wrapped an arm around your waist. “the honeymoon felt forced,” you admitted, making sure to keep eye contact even as he stiffened. “we both felt it, you can admit it, i’m not mad. but this would be new and an adventure. like old times, elliot.”
he nodded a little less resignedly. “sure, old times. ok.”
you smiled, dipped down to kiss him deeply, rubbing his clean shaven cheek with your thumb.
“thank you. this will be fun, i promise. we’ll get to relax and just spend some time together, yeah? no pressure of what we should be doing as a couple or at work or— or—“
elliot softened as he looked at you stutter to find another reason. “yes, darling. it’ll be good.”
you stepped out of his grasp.
“i’ll let them know we can go, what date do you think would be best?”
---
“fucking hell, you had one job. look out for the stupid carved owl in the tree and that’s when we know to turn left,” elliot seethed as he drove, the sun growing dimmer by the minute. you’d spent the entire day driving up north using the directions, had set off that saturday morning in hopes that the traffic wouldn’t be as busy as midweek. “so where are we now? you insisted on following their directions instead of using the satnav, so where the hell does it mention this endless fucking shitty, unpaved road? eh?”
you hunched down in your seat next to him and reread the instructions from soap, hoping to find a clue as to where you were on the, admittedly adorable yet detailed, map he’d drawn. you’d found it endearing when you’d first saw it but now you were thinking it was more of a necessity.
elliot snatched your phone from your hand and split his focus between the dark road and your phone, scrolling erratically to find the directions in the email he wanted. your hand hovered between you, eager to take your phone back but hesitant to foul his mood further.
your eyes caught on movement on the road and you quickly gripped the wheel to swerve and avoid hitting a deer that had wandered out from the trees. “fuck, elliot, watch out!”
he slammed on the breaks and dropped your phone into your footwell as he automatically gripped the wheel to take over from you.
you both sat still, panting; anxiety and adrenaline pumping through your body as you tried to tell it and brain that you were fine, it could calm down, you were ok. you rubbed at your shoulder where your seatbelt had dug in.
elliot started up the car again, silent, and went slower down the road until the headlights caught on a misshapen tree. you squinted before pointing it out. “here, look. i think that’s the owl, go left.”
it only took a few minutes before you could see the lights from kyle and johnny’s farmhouse. the shape of their barn and surrounding smaller outbuildings stark against the natural curves of the hills and trees they were settled amongst.
“we’re here,” you said excitedly. “they said to pull around the side of the barn to the garage they have at the side. their house should be riiight there.” you grinned as you parked directly in front of it on the gravel next to their truck.
“great,” elliot said sarcastically. you didn’t mention his tone knowing that having to drive all day, several hours longer than you’d both expected, would have rankled anyone’s mood.
you climbed out without a word and got your bags out of the back of the car. when you rounded back to the front you found johnny and kyle walking to meet you already, their front door left open behind them.
“bonnie! ye made it,” johnny said as he jogged over to you excitedly. you let go of your suitcase as he pulled you into a hug as soon as you were close enough, scuffing his stubble against your neck in his excitement.
“down, boy,” kyle laughed, nudging johnny out of the way to give you his own hug. once he pulled back he nodded to elliot and smirked. “thought you’d maybe gotten lost, we were ready to start a search party.”
elliot bristled but johnny spoke up before he could defend himself.
“aye, but tea is still warm and ready to be served, an’ ahm fucking starving so let’s get inside yeah?” johnny slapped elliot’s shoulder before leading you all to the house. “done a big roasty fer the pair a’ye, so i hope yer hungry.”
the heat encompassed you as soon as you stepped inside, led through to the kitchen-stroke-dining room. the food smelled divine and the warmth accumulated from the oven and the fireplace had your shoulders relaxing instantly.
the house was far from modern with its mismatched old wooden chairs around the handmade table and the well-loved couch you could spot through in the next room, nothing like your lifeless flat in london. but the farmhouse was still stylish in its own way, in the colour of the cabinets, the throw on couch, the wallpaper leading up the stairs. though more importantly, it was homely. lived in.
“i can imagine the drive wasnae easy for first timers, so sit yerselves down and i’ll plate the food, gaz’ll get the wine,” johnny said.
you pulled out the chair next to elliot, leaving the two opposite you empty.
johnny clapped his hands as if to say voilà when he put down your heaped plates a minute later.
“this looks amazing, johnny, you cooked this?” you asked, eyes round and barely stopping yourself from digging in to be polite.
“have a great sous chef,” he said and patted kyle’s arse when he passed by with the wine. kyle smirked.
“how did you find the drive up, seriously?” kyle asked as he poured your drinks. he took a seat with johnny and gestured for you to start eating; now with permission, you didn’t hesitate.
“it was fine. might’ve been easier if we were given an address instead, satnav might’ve made it quicker,” elliot said as he pushed around some of the steamed vegetables on his plate.
“the views made taking our time worth it though, the valleys we passed were gorgeous,” you gushed. “i didn’t realise there were so many small lakes too.”
elliot sniffed irritably, but you didn’t notice. in fact you’d barely noticed how he played with his food more than ate it as you were too busy chatting and eating. you were going crazy for the hearty roast dinner, you could see in the colour and in the bursting taste of the veg just how fresh it all was; nothing like the store bought stuff you usually got at home.
you hadn’t had anything home cooked in so long that you hadn’t made yourself, and when you told kyle and johnny so they both reared back as though slapped.
“oh love, you’re missing out, that’s not right. don’t worry we’ll take care of you while you’re here,” kyle promised.
elliot cleared his throat. “got any salt?”
johnny’s eyes flickered tersely from elliot to the roast beef he was poking on his plate and back up again. “sure. let me just grab it for ye.”
“cheers,” elliot smiled thinly.
“top up?” kyle asked and gestured to your wine glass. you nodded before turning to elliot, but he wasn’t looking your way so you held your glass out.
“thanks. god, after this and the long drive i think i’ll be ready for bed; sorry excuse for company on the first night,” you apologised.
“we’re just happy to have you here,” kyle assured you as johnny sat back down. your husband doused his food in salt before making a better dent in it, downing his wine quickly afterwards with a wince.
“yeah, i think it’ll be an early one for us tonight, won’t it, darling?” elliot said and started to stand, rudely pushing his unfinished plate away. “in fact, i think i’m pretty tired now.”
you looked down at the last few bites of your meal and the full glass of wine forlornly but stood alongside elliot.
“it really was a fantastic meal, thank you so much, johnny,” you said.
“anytime for you, hen,” he said. “here, let us show you to your room.”
“i’ll grab the dishes while you take them up, johnny. you cooked so i’ll clean,” kyle said, hooking a finger in johnny’s jeans to catch his attention when he stood up. you felt a sharp pang at their easy domesticity. sure they’d said they’d known each other, been together, for a decade, but it still ached that you and elliot where struggling so obviously in comparison despite your sixth anniversary nearing on the horizon.
you gave kyle a fragile smile as you followed johnny upstairs with your bags to your room for the week.
“i’ll leave you to it, see ye in the morning,” johnny said as you settled into your room.
“this is amazing,” you said with a small laugh, disbelief and joy mixing into something like hope as you started to get undressed. the view out of your bedroom looked over the front garden and you felt giddy at the idea of staying with your new friends for the next few days and exploring the area further.
“it’s… quaint,” elliot said.
you turned to him, your mouth pulled tight. “please don’t start.”
“what? it’s just… smaller than what we’re used to,” he said with a shrug, starting to laugh as he gestured at the room. “i mean look at this place, and the bed.”
“keep your voice down at least, elliot,” you hissed, eyes sharp on the closed door of your bedroom.
“darling, you know i get overheated easily, and by the looks of it we’re going to be pressed side by side all night. and i doubt they have a/c,” elliot huffed. he sat down on the bed and rolled his eyes when it squeaked. “oh, come on.”
“we could open the window,” you said stubbornly, ignoring elliot as he shifted to make the bed squeak again.
“and let in the smell of sheep shit? not your brightest idea,” he scoffed. “christ and never mind the bloody noise on top of that. good thing i brought my ear plugs or i’d never get any sleep.”
you bit your tongue when you thought of the constant traffic noises that flooded into your apartment at all times of the day and night, the light pollution that did its best to creep past your blackout curtains.
“i’m sure you’ll get used to it after the first couple of nights,” you said instead and moved to join him in bed. you reached for his hand and squeezed it, leaning in for a kiss, teasing your tongue at his lips for a split second before pulling back. “just… please be nice?”
he sighed.
“fine,” he conceded. “i was just expecting something a little nicer considering the price of the trip we met them on.”
you scowled at him and let go of his hand. “you’re being rude.”
you leant over to turn off your lamp and laid down facing away from him. neither of you noticed the shadows shift under your door, the light footsteps heading away from your room.
---
you woke up the next morning to find elliot already in the shower, you could hear the pipes from the bathroom next door and noticed his suitcase had been half unpacked.
you were grateful he’d let you sleep, you’d gone to bed frustrated and you didn’t want to carry it on this morning. it was a new day and you were eager to have fun.
you walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. as you gazed out your eyes naturally drifted to johnny, stood near the barn you’d passed on your way in. he was small given the distance but you couldn’t help but stare as he rhythmically chopped logs into smaller, more manageable pieces.
he was sweating, the repetitive action of driving the axe up and then through the thick wood obviously tiring, and you felt water pool in your mouth as you looked on gormlessly.
the sleeves of his thick checked shirt were rolled up his forearms and part of you wished he’d decided to chop the wood in the driveway so you’d have a clearer view of his muscles at work. he wiped his face on his bicep and suddenly turned to the house, to your window.
you ducked away before he could catch you and started to get dressed out of the line of sight the windows may provide. with your face aflame and anxious butterflies rampant in your stomach, you needed to get your head on straight and decidedly not ogle your new friends.
with one last stern word to yourself you headed downstairs back to the kitchen and found gaz pottering around.
“ah morning, love. coffee?” he offered, holding out a cup. you took it gratefully with a small thank you and sat at the table again. there was a plate of toast in the middle, enough slices freshly made made for the four of you, and you reached forward for one. “i was thinking me and soap could show you a hiking trail nearby, make a day of it.”
“the one you showed me on your phone?” you asked, nodding enthusiastically regardless of his answer.
“this one’s even better,” gaz said, smiling fondly. “just might take longer.”
“coffee? thank you, darling,” elliot mumbled as he swiped your coffee from your hands without asking and distracting you from answering gaz. you’d barely had a sip before elliot was finishing the drink off in one go. “mm, bit too milky for my liking,” he told you and sucked his teeth.
“probably because it wasn’t for you,” kyle said flatly. “we’re going on a hike today, care to join or has work called you in already?”
“i’d love a hike,” elliot said brightly. johnny walked in through the front door as elliot continued to talk about the hikes he’d been on before, heading to the sink to wash his hands and leaning up to kiss kyle as he passed. “work can wait for the great outdoors. my wife here knows how much i love going on— on uh, on hikes and finding new trails and mapping them out.” elliot stumbled over his words for a second, taken back by the kiss.
johnny’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh and he turned and winked at you as he opened up a cupboard door that hid his face from your husband.
“oh, so you two go together?” kyle asked.
“no, no,” elliot laughed like the thought was ridiculous. “i go with my mates. not really her thing.”
you pursed your lips; you hated it when elliot answered for you, especially when he was wrong. which was often. instead of fussing though, you focused your ire on another slice of toast from the centre of the table.
“right.” kyle stood from his chair and went to lean next to johnny on one of the kitchen counters. “we’ll pack a bag full of snacks and drinks and then we can be off. give us fifteen minutes?”
you nodded, thankful for the excuse to leave elliot at the table, and went to grab your walking boots before coming back to wait with elliot near the door.
“quicker to get there from the back,” johnny said and led you through the rest of the downstairs out into the back garden.
it looked like it could spread for acres if not for the looming trees of the forest fencing it in.
to the left was their chicken coop and a small locked shed. if you turned around you’d see your cars parked, the garage and then the barn further up.
the chicken coop was on solid muddy ground, closer to the gravel front, whereas the shed was further up on the flat grassy area that began to rise into a small hill further back and closer to the trees; there was a small iron table sat with four chairs closer to the house and you couldn’t wait to use it, imagining sitting out there for lunch or breakfast.
to your right you took in their allotment, the large raised beds full of blooming vegetables; tall beans climbing the trellis arches from one side to another. you saw noticed the glint of a greenhouse hidden behind it all. everything was encouraged to grow to its fullest and you bet the food they’d served the night before had been grown by their very own hands.
“we’ve got strawberries if ye’d like tae pick some over the next few days,” johnny said as he walked you down to the end of the garden, catching the way your eyes were glued to the allotment.
“i’d love that, i haven’t been strawberry picking since i was little,” you said.
johnny nodded. “settled then.”
---
the hike wasn’t difficult, but living down south in a very flat city hadn’t built up your cardio for the steep hills and climbs at all.
“this is a good place to stop for lunch,” johnny said, apropos to nothing.
he squeezed your arm as he wandered off the path towards the edge of the hill. you were halfway there to the top, but already you were loving the views.
“knee bothering you, johnny?” kyle asked as he pulled out a rainproof sheet from his bag and started placing the food out in the tupperware boxes.
“something like that,” he said.
you laughed when you saw johnny pull out a bottle of wine from his.
“just tryin’ tae make use of all the wine we bought on holiday, hen,” he snickered.
you sat down and helped them spread the food out while your husband paced from the ledge to the path and then to the blanket, only to start again.
“have a seat elliot,” you said encouragingly, patting the space you’d left purposely empty next to you.
he slumped down with a huff and kyle side-eyed him.
“how was your night? sleep well?”
“hope the room wasnae too small,” johnny added, biting into a cheese cracker as he looked to your husband.
you felt your stomach drop and your face heat up. “no, not at all—“
“i think i’m just used to the finer things,” elliot said, picking up one of the packed travel cups pointedly and pouring himself some wine.
“we slept fine,” you said firmly as you frowned at elliot. “it’s perfect.”
“ah, we’re just joking around, hen, no need to fash,” johnny teased. “you pack yer paints?”
“shit.” your face dropped as you looked at him. “i completely forgot when i was packing, i was too excited.”
johnny grinned. “you can borrow mine, it’s alright.”
“if they’re not dried up that is,” kyle said with a laugh. “i’ve not seen you touch paints in years, johnny.”
“they’re water paints, gaz, they’re meant tae be dry,” johnny said with a roll of his eyes. he looked to you and covered the side of his mouth. “yer a breath o’fresh air, ye have no idea. i love him but he doesnae have the eye fer it, you know?”
“im right bloody here,” kyle said exasperatedly, making you laugh.
“fucking hell,” your husband muttered under his breath before standing. “i think i’m gonna go ahead and have a look at the trail, get a lay of the land. i’ll turn around in ten and meet you back here.”
“are you sure?” you asked at the same time johnny warned him, “don’t go off the path.”
“why not?” elliot asked, taking it as a challenge despite johnny’s grave tone.
“go straight so you don’t get lost,” johnny repeated seriously. “it’s a tricky place, these woods. one wrong turn and you’ll ne’er be found.”
elliot stayed silent for a moment, left off kilter by johnny’s intense eyes, before laughing, waving him of with a scoff. “sure thing, johnny.”
you watch your husband walk off with an uneasy feeling before kyle and johnny’s easy going nature distracted you once more.
before you knew it it’d been twenty minutes, but you were too busy talking about how they’d ended up moving out so far away from their original shared home, that you hadn’t noticed elliot wasn’t back yet.
“it’s great here, but it can feel… lonely sometimes, just the two of us,” johnny admitted as he looked to kyle. the handsome man nodded and knocked their knees together.
“i know how that feels,” you said, three cups of wine having loosened your lips.
“yeah?” kyle asked softly, tilting his head to meet your downcast eyes.
you opened and closed your mouth a few times before taking a deep breath.
“i want a baby,” you said weakly, sadly. you were quiet as though hoping not to be overheard. “elliot doesn’t think it’s the right time, but im starting to doubt it’d ever be the right time if it were up to him.”
you blink at the anger that had seeped into your last words and gasped as you realised that you’d actually finally said them out loud. not even your therapist had gotten you to admit this.
“oh god, please forget i said that,” you begged them suddenly, wide eyed and pleading. “please. don’t say anything to elliot about it. i— i think i’ve just drank a little too much,” you tried to excuse yourself.
“hey, it’s ok,” johnny said with a concerned frown.
“i didn’t mean it,” you rushed out.
kyle moved to elliot’s previous spot and pulled you in for a warm hug, calming you down.
“it’s normal to want things and to be disappointed when the person that promised you them can’t deliver,” he whispered. you sniffled and slowly wrapped your arms back around him with a nod, tears building behind yojr closed eyelids. you slumped into his hold further when johnny’s large hand rubbed soothingly across your back below kyle’s arms.
it was nice. simply being between them and being comforted by them was nice.
you leaned back and wiped at your eyes with a sniffly laugh.
“thank you, guys, i— thank you.”
gaz squeezed your shoulder for a moment before finally letting you go.
you felt fidgety, needing to do something with your hands and to keep them from staring at your red rimmed eyed, so you reached for a handful of grapes when it suddenly occurred to you that elliot wasn’t back. you looked at your watch and swore.
“elliot’s not here yet, shit what if he’s lost?”
“he won’t be,” johnny reassured you, standing alongside you and grabbing your shoulders. “he’s an experienced hiker, right? he probably lost track a’time like we did.”
“let’s get this packed away and we’ll go catch up to him,” kyle suggested. you nodded, easily calmed once given easy orders to occupy your busy mind
---
“elliot?” you called out as you walked, johnny and kyle on either side of you, looking out into the trees in case he’d gone off track. “you there? elliot?”
“stop shouting, christ, i’m here,” elliot complained further up the trail. he was slouched against a tree. “took you all long enough.”
“oh my god, what happened,” you said as you crouched next to him, looking at the sorry swollen state of his ankle.
“twisted it looks like, worst-case it could be a sprain,” kyle said from over your shoulder. “should be fine, we can get home with him leaning on our shoulders, right, soap?”
johnny tutted in disappointment as he stared down the path instead of at your injured husband.
“the waterfall was only five minutes away as well,” johnny said to no one in particular. he crouched next to elliot. “c’mon then, let’s get you back.”
your husband bristled. he looked longingly down the trail johnny had gestured to just a moment before.
“we should still go, i’ll be fine,” he insisted. “we should go to the waterfall.”
gaz raised his eyebrows incredulously as he helped elliot stand, but he stayed silent.
“you want to lean on me or johnny?” he asked.
“whoever gets us there quicker,” elliot said, face pinched.
kyle rolled his eyes and set off walking, leaving elliot to wince until he matched kyle’s stride. luckily the walk wasn’t long before the four of you cut off the trail and found yourselves stood at the bottom of the waterfall, a light mist of water splashing at your bare skin from where you stood.
“holy shit.”
johnny nudged your shoulders together with a laugh.
“impressive, right?”
“to say the least,” you huffed.
kyle had helped elliot sit down by the edge of the plunge pool with his leg stretched out as you’d taken in the view with johnny, though you soon took a seat next to elliot when you noticed he was situated as comfortable as could be. you pulled off your shoes and socks and shuffled forwards a little to dip your feet in the water, kicking lightly and grinning even with how the cold bit at your toes.
elliot stayed stern faced even as he looked at the impressive feature, but kyle and johnny took no notice.
they started to undress, throwing their clothes down haphazardly by their bags.
“you coming in?” kyle asked you cheekily.
“we go in every time we’re here, tradition now,” johnny explained once he was stood in his underwear.
“i don’t have my swimsuit,” you said hesitantly.
“jus’ go in yer kegs like us,” johnny dismissed the worry.
“it’s probably for the best she’s said no,” elliot said meanly, one eyebrow raised as he looked over your relaxed form, your stomach rolls obvious and plush under the afternoon sun and your thighs spread thick where they pressed against the edge of the natural pool. you suddenly felt the need to layer up in your baggiest clothes. “she’s happy enough sat with me. isn’t that right, darling?”
you felt embarrassment, hot and sharp, flood from your face to your toes as you stared at him. this was your husband. a man that took delight in belittling you.
“oi,” johnny warned from where he stood waist deep in the water.
you ignored them both and stood suddenly, shucking off your clothes with tight angry movements, a smile only eventually pulling at your lips when kyle wolf whistled playfully.
johnny joined in jeering and clapped as you stepped carefully closer to the edge before jumping in. once you resurfaced, you resolutely faced away from the scowl you knew would be on your husband’s face. you were past caring.
the cold of the water had you sucking in thinner breaths until you acclimatised, and you were grateful it was deep enough to brush your collarbones as you could tell your nipples were babbling from the chill.
“be careful, love, there are fish in here,” gaz said as he drifted closer to your front. his smile was bordering on mischievous but it eased your slight reservations of being in the water. “but don’t worry they don’t bite.”
you felt a sudden pinch on your buttcheek and you squealed before johnny’s laugh and warm chest at your back registered. you flushed hot and dug your elbow back into his ribs as they laughed, both barely giving you space to float alone.
they guided you closer to the waterfall with easy going smiles and it wasn’t until you felt their capable hands on your hips and tummy to keep you from being dragged under as you held your hands under the heavy pour that you looked back guiltily at your husband. you pushed off and away from them but continued to swim a little while longer until elliot kicked up a fuss, bored.
“are we done now? it’s getting dark, we should be heading back,” he spoke up when it looked like the three of you weren’t tiring any time soon. “and then there’s dinner to think of.”
“you offering to cook, elliot?” kyle said as he climbed out of the water.
elliot scoffed. “not likely. with the ankle and all,” he said patronisingly.
gaz smiled thinly. “of course.”
the three of you dried off as best you could before dressing and heading back to the farmhouse with elliot leant between johnny and kyle.
even as your clothes chafed against your damp skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret swimming. thought the cold was biting even through your coat, and a warm shower was calling for you back at the farmhouse.
---
once you were back you showered quickly and then ran a bath for elliot. you helped ease him in so he didn’t slip and further injure himself.
“put on a real fucking show today,” he grumbled once he was laid back. you cupped the water over his hair carefully.
“what do you mean?” you grabbed the shampoo and began lathering it.
“don’t play dumb,” he hissed. “acting like that, like a whore, with them. again.”
“i wasn’t—“
“you’re a fucking hypocrite,” he said harshly. “punishing me for one little mistake but now you get to act like this with other men?”
you let your hands hang over the edge of the tub in shock. “you cheated on me. more than once, elliot. that’s not a little mistake.”
“we’re past this,” he said tiredly with a shake of his head, rubbing his hand over his forehead to wipe away the dripping shampoo.
“then why did you bring it up?”
he turned to look at you, disgust clear on his face.
“you’re ugly when you get like this,” he said simply. “leave me to it, i’ll call you in when i need a hand getting out.”
your lip trembled as you stood and went back to your room. as you closed the door behind you, you heard elliot mutter to himself, “he’s an absolute idiot thinking this was only a twisted ankle, clearly not a doctor. the swelling has hardly gone down.”
you didn’t react, heading to the room next door with watery eyes. as you were tidying up your clothes, sniffling back angry and hurt tears, there was a knock on the doorframe. your turned to see johnny with a plate in his hand.
“thought i’d make things easier and bring his tea up fer him,” he said and put it on the bedside table. “do you want me to bring up yours too or will you be joining us?”
“oh, i’m not hungry, thank you johnny,” you said with a watery smile. the food looked delicious but elliot’s words had soured your appetite. “i think i’m just going to go to bed as soon as elliot’s alright.”
“ye sure?”
“mhm.” you nodded.
johnny nodded, said a soft, “let me know if ye change your mind.” he pulled out a pack of pain tablets from his pocket with a little wave and dropped them on the bed and then left.
you waited for elliot’s shout before you went to help him out of the bath and back through to your room. you left him to dry and dress himself and once he was sat on the bed with his food, you turned your back to him and willed yourself to fall asleep quickly.
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part two
want to email johnny? click here!
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achilles-rage · 5 months ago
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"slut hours!!" i whisper to myself at 1am as i write smut for fictional characters alone in my room, severely touch starved
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tojisprettywife · 8 months ago
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{note: yk the drill 😞 unedited, not proof read, i wrote this in a hurry. this particular scene was in head for so long. had to get it out. husband! toji yet again, i’m so down bad for him.}
warnings: ? zero. fluff. husband! toji, wife! reader.
« @enouche ,i hope you like it 😭»
no matter what others say, toji loves being babied. he, himself would deny this. he considers himself a stoic man. but this completely changes after meeting you.
one lazy afternoon, you and him are in bed, toji wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your chest. he grabs your wrist and places your hand on his head. you look at him, and take a minute to understand what he’s doing. he wants head scratches.you smile down at him and run your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp lightly. “mmmh” he hums softly, nuzzling further into your chest, a small smile on his face. around 5 minutes later, you tilt your head to see if he’s asleep. his eyes are closed and seems to be asleep already so you slowly remove your hand from his scalp. “tch” he clicks his tongue.his eyes brows knit, he grabs your wrist again, and places your hand on his head again. you giggle softly, kissing his forehead. again a small smile creeps up his lips . you suddenly feel so giddy and happy, you squeeze him tightly, peppering and showering him with kisses. he smiles widely, his eyes still shut, feeling your soft lips pressing against all over his face. “my baby” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him, patting and rubbing his back. he’d definitely want to say “i’m not a baby” but he chose to savor this moment. deep down he knows, he loves it all, way too much. he just wants to be loved.
(any sort of interaction is very much appreciated!!)
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velvrei · 5 months ago
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Hi I’m always interested in a good sub Robby one shot if that in any way inspires you. Maybe reader just beat him in sparring?
yk how to speak my language by requesting sub robby…
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you couldn’t even make it home.
there you sat, in the parking lot, of the closed dojo. it was dark, after hours, sensei gave you the keys. you and robby spent your evening sparring in the closed venue, practicing while nobody else was.
and you beat him. he didn’t let you win either. you really beat him for the first time and the cockiness was getting to your head. it was so bad, so bad that now you were sat in the passenger seat of his car, both hands pumping his cock as his hips squirmed, thighs thudding against the steering wheel.
“mm,” was all he could let out, and you laughed, watching his face contort into full pleasure.
“i bet you feel so pathetic because i won.” he moaned at your words, loving the feeling of being belittled, “god, my handsome pathetic boy. letting his lover take care of him after she won.”
he had came once before, and he was already close to his second orgasm, he looked over at you, reaching out to grab any part of you. desperate to feel you beneath his fingertips.
his hand trailed your thigh, and you laughed. “so desperate to touch me, huh?” you called him out, and he moaned.
“god,” he whispered, his head fell back and pushed against the seat. “love when you talk to me like that,” he whispered, trying not to be shy. you told him before that when he responded to your words it made you want to say them more.
so here he was, trying to slur whatever came to mind just so he could hear your filthy talk again.
and he would do it, again, and again, until he pleased you.
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kisses4kaia · 6 months ago
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And if request Art and Patrick threesome during a camping trip then i’m the issue
anon!! how dare you ?!??!! unacceptable—thank u for 1.7k🫂. (fwb!patrick, fwb!art, handjob, etc. mdni.)
summer was always a haze with the three of you. spending each night in a stuffy motel as you traveled vast distances for tournaments, leisure, or whatever needed tending to, got tiring—fast.
with school out of the way, you made the most of your free hours with your two best friends. but now, after two months of back-to-back games on a multitude of continents, you were all in need of a break. and according to patrick, a forest camping trip was as good as any—sexier, too, whatever that meant.
the roadtrip was an endeavor of its own, patrick’s jeep he’d gotten for his 17th birthday 3 years ago transporting the trio of you out of the suburbs of town into the outskirted woods.
and well, you may or may not have been intentional when letting them make out with you, grope, pet, and bite the whole way to the wooded mountains outside of town. however, their greedy hands were always stopped just above the golden crest of your belt. annoyingly, you’d push them off of you and hop into the passenger seat, leaving them hard and frustrated. “c’mon,” patrick groaned your name. “what’s going on, man?” he’d beg, but you’d only shrug. “just not feeling it right now, that’s all.”
but finally, when the sky was making its daily transition from enlightened to dusk, the jeep was parked in a clearing within the forest and the back was opened up. the seats were pushed down to allow for all of your car-camping gear to be set up: a thin mattress laying down the floor, pillows, throw blankets, chargers and other necessities all strewn about the stuffy car.
and after dinner (leftover wingstop from the drive), the three of you retired to your pillows, the boys’ bodies on either side of you, legs tangled in with yours.
finding serenity in the warmth of the blankets and pillows and man-sized cuddles sandwiching you, plus the owl’s call and nearly audible twinkling of the stars in un-light-polluted night sky, you found yourself latching onto a dream of a US open trophy. but, all your hopes were cut short by a soft pair of lips sticking onto your neck, sucking on your jugular.
another mouth found its way onto your wrist, kissing up your arm til it found your shoulder, at which it then moved from the blade to your shut eyelids, finally to nipping at your earlobe. you knew that had to be patrick, him never being one to stay put in one place for long.
art was needier, kisses on your neck intensifying as his middle grinded up against your thigh, whimpers leaking through desperate nips and wet pecks. “please, can you touch me?” art whispered in your ear, and you found your hand gravitating towards his waistband. “‘course, baby.”
“thank you, thanks so much,” art muttered as he felt your hand wrap around the base of his cock, starting slow as you began to pump and then sliding up to circle your thumb around the achy weep of his tip. patrick whined, feeling slightly neglected as he indulged in the lovely sounds you were pulling from his blonde friend. you were quick to move your hand from art’s hair to patrick’s need, sliding past the confines of his sweats and boxers.
you stroked them both with equal vigor, speeding up and slowing down at the same time for both boys. you knew what you were doing, and so did they. somehow, the synchrony, the knowing that the two best friends were feeling equally as good together, everything, made it so much hotter, and that much more erotic.
the best friends locked eyes with each other, nodding with that look in their eye. there was a mutual understanding between the two mindless, whimpering, males, and all it took was an unspoken three, two, one… and they were spilling their loads into their boxers and onto your hands with obscenely loud, lost in the night moans.
pulling both your arms out of the pants of your best friends, you licked both clean before sliding under the thin fleece throw blanket barely covering half of each of the boys’s bodies. “night night.” you bid sweetly, as if you hadn’t just given the pair the strongest orgasm they’d experienced in a long time.
“yeah, night, baby.” “goodnight.”
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izzyy-stuff · 5 months ago
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𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔
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bsf!beomgyu x fem!reader
in which your roommate keeps going through your packages, so you decide your next order will get delivered to your best friend's place instead.
wc 3.9k
warnings pet names, best friends to ???, sex toy, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral, unprotected sex + creampie, overstimulation I might have forgotten some
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You were lying in your bed, your back against the wall, and a book in your hands. After spending the whole day at your job, a calm evening with your favorite book was something you needed.
You looked up at the sound of something falling coming from the hallway. Your roommate, you assumed. 
“Are you okay there?” You called, carefully listening to see if she would answer. But instead, you saw the door of your room open in one swift motion, making your eyes widen. “I am stealing these two,” she proclaimed, holding up two red tops. Clothes you ordered, you realized. “No, you’re not,” you answered calmly, closing your book and putting it on your side. “Those are things I paid for.” 
“But they would look so cute on me!” She protested, putting one in front of her shirt to show you. “See? It fits me perfectly!” 
“Put it back into the box.” 
You saw her pout as she turned around, murmuring something you couldn’t hear. You shook your head in disbelief, reaching for your book again. “And stop going through my packages!” You yelled after her, only being met by a simple “Yeah” from her. 
You sighed, knowing you couldn’t count much on what she said. She would open your next package again, no matter what it was or if you told her not to. You didn’t know why she did that, but it had been months since she started, and you had no idea what to do with it. 
That was why you were at your best friend's apartment now, complaining about it while he sat in his gaming chair, only partly listening to what you were saying as he had his left earbud in his ear to hear the game on his screen, too. 
“I don’t know, just order it to my place,” he proclaimed, unbothered. You knew he didn't care about your rant at the moment. He was too focused on his game. “Nice!” He yelled as he killed another enemy. You flinched, unprepared for the scream. “Can’t you turn the game off for a minute and actually listen to me?” You mumbled, becoming annoyed at how you always had to compete with some computer game for his attention. 
“Sweetheart, this is League we are talking about. No, I cannot turn it off,” he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe you seriously asked him that. “I just need to finish this fight, and then you’ll have my full attention. Give me ten minutes, yeah?” 
“Sure, Gyu,” you mumbled back, looking down into your lap.
Beomgyu, your best friend, has been in your life since high school. You two grew to be inseparable over the years, going through thick and thin together, but there was still something you couldn’t get used to, no matter what. He loved calling you nicknames as if the two of you were dating. Things like sweetheart, love, and angel were something you heard almost every day, but it still got you flustered each time. 
“Okay, I am all yours now, angel,” Beomgyu turned around on his chair, taking out his earbud to prove his point. You glanced at his monitor, noticing he had won the game. You smiled slightly, your eyes falling on your best friend right after. “So as I was saying,” you started again. “She still keeps going through all my stuff. She is home more often than I am, so she always gets to it first, and then the next thing I know, my package is opened, and half my clothes are missing,” you huffed, fixing your hair so it wouldn’t get in front of your face. 
“Like I said, just get it shipped here. I don’t care as long as you will come to pick it up, and I don’t have to get it to you,” Beomgyu shrugged, his eyes following every movement of your hand as you tugged your hair behind your ears. “You wouldn’t mind? I swear I will try not to order that many things.” 
“Anything for you. You know that,” Beomgyu nodded, catching the redness in your cheeks as the words left his mouth. His lips formed a smirk, but he kept quiet. He knew the memory of you blushing at what he said wouldn't leave his mind anytime soon, though. 
And just like that, you started putting his address under all your orders. It didn't matter if you ordered new clothes, lingerie, or books, you always shipped it to his house because you knew he wouldn’t open it. No matter how much of a tease and asshole he was sometimes, he still had some respect for you. 
♡⸝⸝
You whined as you opened your eyes at the sound of new messages on your phone. Ready to curse out whoever was texting you, you grabbed your phone from under your pillow, closing your eyes again when the screen light almost blinded you. 
Beomgyu has sent you a voicemail. You read from your phone, scoffing. Of course, it was Beomgyu. Who else would bother you so early? You tiredly clicked the play button, putting your phone down next to you and closing your eyes again, deciding to go back to sleep right after listening to it. 
“So, first of all, good morning, angel,” he proclaimed, his raspy morning voice echoing through your room. You weren’t ready for that. Nothing could prepare you for how close he sounded. It felt as if he was lying right beside you, whispering those words in your ear. You found yourself whisper-moaning, his voice sending shivers all over your body. You were fucked. Or more like - you needed to be fucked. 
“Second of all, I just got one of your packages. It’s light, so I assume it’s some clothes? I know I usually let it be as it is until you decide to pick it up, but I will be close to your apartment later so I can drop it off,” he informed you, but if you were honest, you weren’t even listening to what he was saying. All you could think about now was how the word Angel rolled on his tongue and how you needed him to call you that in his morning voice again. 
“That’s all I need. Sorry if I woke you up. Just let me know if I should bring it or not, alright? Okay, I need to get ready. I’ll talk to you later, sweetheart.” 
You breathed out as the voicemail finished, your thighs rubbing together without you even noticing at first. It’s been a long time since you last had good sex. That must be why you were behaving like this. It had nothing to do with your best friend's voice and his habit of calling you nicknames. Definitely not. 
“Oh, for fucks sake, Beomgyu,” you whined, your eyes now opened as you reached into your top drawer. You hesitated as you grabbed your vibrator, glancing at your phone again. It was wrong. You knew you shouldn’t be horny from your best friend’s voice, but you couldn’t help it. 
You pressed play once again, your hand slowly sliding into your pajama shorts as he greeted you good morning. You were wet already, and it was all thanks to his stupid hot voice. You whined as your finger carefully thrusted into your cunt, trying to turn on the vibrator with your other hand but failing miserably. “Fuck, what now?” You grunted, glancing at the toy. “No, no, no, do not die on me now,” you cried, seeing as it refused to turn on. It wasn’t that long since you charged it, so you knew there wasn’t a problem with that. 
You threw it aside, giving up on trying to figure it out as the voicemail came to an end again. It was too short. Not only Beomgyu's voice note but also your fingers. You needed something more. 
An hour later, you were back in your bed. After finally managing to finish on your fingers, you went to take a shower before you ran off to your room, taking your laptop. You scrolled for a little longer than you had expected you would before you finally found a new sex toy you liked. You knew you needed to buy the rose toy right after stumbling upon it. 
You hesitated as you started filling out the shipping address, biting your bottom lip. You knew you couldn’t have it delivered to your apartment. It would be a disaster if your roommate got to the package before you, but sending it to Beomgyu didn’t sound much better. After everything that happened in the morning, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea to ship it to his place. 
Still, you wrote down his address. In the worst-case scenario, you would blush as he handed you the package. There was nothing worse that could happen.
Or so you thought. 
“Yes, angel?” Your best friend asked immediately as he picked up your call. You cleared your throat, almost forgetting everything you wanted to say the moment he spoke. “Uhm, about the clothes. You don’t have to get it to me today,” you proclaimed, glancing at your laptop. “I just ordered another thing, so I’ll pick it up on Friday.” 
“Are you sure? I don’t mind taking it to you, really.” 
“It’s fine, Gyu,” you shook your head. “I’ll come get it on Friday.” 
“Okay,” he nodded, deciding it wasn’t worth it to convince you. “We can do our movie night then too, what do you think? Instead of Saturday if you’re already going to be here,” Beomgyu suggested. 
“Why not?” You agreed, smiling when he started telling you about a movie he already had in mind. This was how you two were supposed to be. Friends who talk about unimportant things on a call. Not lovers or anything similar. That was the last time you got off to his voice. You told yourself confidently. You had to get rid of whatever weird crush on your best friend you were getting. 
♡⸝⸝
Beomgyu groaned as he saw his character die, his head hitting the back of his chair. Nothing was going his way today. It was already the third game he lost, and Soobin’s laugh wasn’t helping much. “Man, you suck today.” Beomgyu rolled his eyes at him, about to press ready again when his doorbell rang. “Well, good thing I am ending for today then.” 
“Hey, don’t get pouty now. Let’s keep playing,” Soobin tried to stop him from leaving, but the next thing he knew, Beomgyu was already off the game. “You’re not seriously pissed, are you?” 
“No,” Beomgyu shook his head, disconnecting his headphones and taking his phone with Soobin still on the call to the door. “But someone is at the door, and my girl is coming later, remember?” 
“She is not your girl,” Soobin reminded him. “She basically is,” the younger male argued immediately. “Anyways, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” 
“Yeah, yeah,” Soobin shook his head at him. “At least make a move on her if you want to call her your girl.” With a quick “Mhm,” Beomgyu hung up the call, putting his phone into his pocket as he opened the front door, being met by the delivery guy. 
“Y/n y/l?” The older male asked, looking up from the package at the boy. “That’s my girlfriend,” Beomgyu proclaimed, reaching his hand towards the package. “Do you need me to sign anything?” 
“No, no need,” the delivery guy shook his head, tilting his head as he looked at Beomgyu. “I guess not all young guys can fulfill their girlfriend’s needs,” he laughed, handing him the box. 
Beomgyu stared at him confusedly, not saying anything as the older male left. He had to blink a few times to get back to reality, closing the front door again. He looked down at the box in his hands, and then, it hit him. He noticed the shop’s name written right above his address, scoffing. You were unbelievable, sending sex toys to his house as if it was nothing. He was sure you were crazy. 
He sat on the couch in his living room, putting his phone on a speaker and placing it next to him so he would have his hands empty. You picked up almost immediately, creating a smirk on his face as he tore open the box. 
“Is this what’s popular now?” He wondered, the sound catching your attention immediately. “A rose toy? Is that what you’re into?” He continued, making your eyes widen. “Beomgyu, what are you doing?” You asked, a wave of anxiety rushing through your whole body. “Calling you, what else,” Beomgyu answered, and you swore you could see the smirk on his face. “We agreed I would call you when your package arrives so you can come over. So I am calling.” 
“You should come fast. I am curious how this one works,” Beomgyu mumbled, hanging up on you before you could say anything else. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hid your head in your hands. Why did he have to open that box from all the possible ones you had sent to his house?? You whined, having no idea what to expect from him. He always made fun of you. That was somehow his love language, so surely he didn’t mean he was curious for real, right? You’d like to believe that was the case. 
♡⸝⸝
You swallowed the lump in your throat as you knocked on the familiar door, more nervous than when you came to his place for the first time. It didn’t take much longer for your best friend to open the door for you, a grin on his face. 
“Do not look at me like that,” you warned him, feeling hotter the more you looked at him, his dark eyes staring into yours. “I am not looking at you anyhow, sweetheart,” he grinned even more, making you scoff as you walked past him inside. You were too nervous to look at him any longer. 
“Whatever, I am just going to get my stuff and leave,” you mumbled, noticing your box with clothes next to his couch. “Where’s…” You started, sighing. “The other thing?” You turned around to face him, your eyes widening when you saw him holding up your new sex toy. “Fuck, Beomgyu, give it to me,” you tried to take it away from him immediately, but he only raised his hand higher, taking advantage of the fact that he was taller than you. “Wish you said that in a different context,” he leaned down to your ear, sending shivers all over your body. 
“Shut up,” you blurted out, knowing your face was red like a tomato. “Make me,” Beomgyu smirked, not taking his eyes off you. “You’re crazy,” you mumbled, stepping back so you wouldn’t be as close to him anymore. “I am crazy? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted when you sent a sex toy to me?” 
“N-No!” You stuttered, suddenly questioning what was going through your mind when you ordered it. He was right. You were the crazy one here. “I just didn’t want my roommate to open it because it would be embarrassing!” 
“But I opened it instead.” 
“And you’re an ass for that,” you stated, taking a step forward again when you saw his hand slowly falling down at your words. However, when he registered your movement, his hand was in the air again, only causing you to jump at him. “Maybe I am,” he nodded, his empty hand wrapping around your waist and bringing you even closer to himself so your bodies were now touching. “But it’s your fault.” 
“I didn’t do anything,” you protested. “Actually, it’s your fault. You are the reason why I had to order it,” you proclaimed, poking Beomgyu in his chest. “If it wasn’t for your stupid voice and-” you closed your mouth again, swallowing everything you wanted to say next when you saw his eyes. You realized he wasn’t joking when he said he was curious how the toy worked. His eyes had written all over them that he wanted to fuck you. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he breathed out, and the next thing you knew, his lips were pressed on yours, his grip on your waist tightening to make sure you wouldn’t run away. 
You froze for a second, trying to figure out what was happening, before your hand found its way to the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as you kissed him back. You started moving to the back, keeping his lips on yours. You quickly pulled away, glancing behind yourself to find the couch with your eyes before you kissed him again. “Mhm, bed,” he mumbled against your lips when he noticed you were trying to walk to the sofa. “Please,” he added. 
“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this for,” Beomgyu whispered, now hovering over you on his bed, his lips unable to leave yours. Your sex toy was placed on his desk right after you went into his room, long forgotten by now. Or you thought it was. “The toy, love, please,” he begged as his lips moved to your neck. “Show me how you use it,” he said, making you moan as he sucked on your sensitive spot. “Need to see you.” 
His hands slowly moved under your shirt, getting to your back so he could unbutton your bra. You quickly caught up on his actions, pulling up your shirt and throwing it somewhere on the floor. Beomgyu took down his shirt right after you, your eyes falling on his torso. “Like what you see?” He chuckled, his eyes landing on your chest as you took down your bra. “I could ask you the same,” you smirked. “God, I absolutely do,” he nodded. 
You hesitated, biting your bottom lip as you looked at him. “You want me to show you the rose?” You finally asked, as if you didn’t already know his answer. You saw his eyes lit up as he got off the bed, rushing to his table to grab the sex toy again. “More than anything,” he answered as he returned to you. 
You sat up, your back against his wall now. “Okay,” you nodded after giving it another thought. “I wanna see you too, though.” 
“See what?” 
“How you masturbate,” you piped quietly, immediately regretting it when you saw the smirk on his face. “Your wish is my command,” he smiled, sitting down on the other side of the bed so he would be facing you. 
“Fuck, Gyu,” you moaned out, your legs now stretched apart as you held the rose vibrator on your clit, your head thrown back from all the pressure. “Mhm, angel, just a little bit more,” Beomgyu groaned, his cock in his hands as he kept his eyes on you and your cunt. “I’ll make you feel even better,” he proclaimed, making you clench around nothing. 
“Gyu, need you right now,” you cried, making him chuckle as he sped up his hand movement, getting closer to finishing. “Almost there,” he groaned. Beomgyu needed to be inside you probably even more than you needed him, but he said he would show you how he masturbates, so he needed to finish what he started first. 
You heard him moan your name and knew that was his end. As if it was a signal for you, you came at the same time Beomgyu did, catching your breath as you threw the toy on the other side of the bed, knowing there was something even better coming your way now.  
“Beomgyu, please,” you begged him, not caring that your legs were already shaking. You just needed him. “I am here, angel,” he assured you, placing his lips on yours again. You whined when he pulled away, his hands grabbing onto your knees as he opened your legs properly. 
Before you could even register his movements, his head was facing your pussy, his fingers sliding between your folds. You gasped when you felt him thrust two fingers into you, his tongue on your clit right away, sucking on it as if his life depended on it. Your lewd sounds filled the room soon after, his head buried in your cunt as he ate you out, making you cum for the second time. 
“Beom- ah,” you moaned again, drunk on the pleasure you were feeling thanks to him. You wanted to pull away from him, unable to continue for much longer, but he held onto your waist, pulling you back to him when you tried to run away, keeping his nose in your wetness as he kept tongue-fucking you. “God, do that sound again,” he groaned into your pussy. “It’s- It’s too much,” you cried. 
“I need your cock inside, Gyu,” you moaned when nothing else seemed to work on him. He refused to pull away from your cunt, no matter how much you already squirted. Finally, he looked up at you, catching his breath. “I don’t think I have any condoms. Let me do this for you instead,” he mumbled, his head between your thighs before you could even say anything. “Fuck,” you groaned. “Go raw.” 
And suddenly, he was up again, his eyes sparkling. “Are you sure?” 
“Yes,” you nodded. “Just please, fuck me already.” 
Beomgyu held onto your ankles, pulling you down so you would be lying down instead of sitting, hovering over you, just admiring your body before his lips found their way to yours again while he gave his cock a few pumps, getting himself ready. “Hold them up, yeah?” He said, pushing your knees to your chest. 
He aligned his tip with your hole, his precum leaking down your cunt onto the bed sheets. “I am going in,” he stated, making sure you were ready as he thrust his hips towards you. You moaned out immediately, not expecting him to push in his whole length. “Beomgyu!” You gasped as he sped up his thrusts, your eyes rolling back. You were right before. Your fingers were definitely little compared to his cock. 
“Fuck, you feel so tight,” he groaned, his hips slapping against your ass. Your mouth was wide open now, your sounds filling the room again. Your pussy clenched around the cock inside you, feeling every vein of his. “Need to fill you up already.” 
“Fuck, Gyu. I am going to cum.” Beomgyu’s grip on your waist became tighter as he kept you in your place. “I am almost there, too,” he said, his moans mixing with yours as he felt your cum on his cock. It took him a few more thrusts as he chased his orgasm before releasing inside you, his cum mixing with yours. 
You whined as he pulled out of you, letting go of your knees. Your legs fell on the bed immediately, shaking as the mixture of your and Beomgyu’s cum leaked out of your hole. “That was…” you breathed out. 
“Amazing,” he finished instead of you, making you nod. 
“Are you staying for the night?” Your best friend asked, lying down next to you, still naked, as he stared at the ceiling. You turned your head towards him, your eyes carefully observing every part of his face. “If you want,” you mumbled, making him turn his head towards you, too. 
For a moment there, when his eyes gazed into yours, a quiet “please” escaping his lips, you caught yourself wanting more than just a friendship from him. You needed him. On a whole different level than what a best friend could give you.
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⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie ✶⋆
↪ Izzy speaks… it's 5 minutes before midnight right now, and I only proofread vaguely, but when I already finished it, I wanted to publish it too, so here it is
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after-witch · 3 months ago
Text
To a Mouse [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]
Title: To a Mouse [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]
Synopsis: The best laid escape plans of mice and men often go awry. 
Word Count: 2200ish
notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, abusive behavior, drugging
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You’ve been planning. Bad, bad thing that you are--not that Overhaul knows about the planning. Not that he knows you call him Overhaul, in your head, all the while “Kai” bubbles from your lips like sweet candy.
Not that he knows that while you obey and nod and pretend to go along with it, you’re screaming, plotting, fervently dreaming about the day that you’ll get away from him.
That day is today, in fact.
All thanks to two things: your penchant for drawing, and his penchant for closing his eyes while you change into your nightgowns.
The drawing is what earned you the box of pencils. They’re nice pencils, middle-of-the-road when it comes to quality. Better than the cheap pencils schoolchildren get, but a seasoned artist might not work with them. You, though, are no seasoned artist. You’re simply a kidnapping victim who liked to draw in their spare time before all this, and after weeks of behaving, he let you have a box of pencils and paper to keep in your room when he wasn’t there.
Because you were good. Because he trusted you.
His mistake.
That pencil is sharpened now, razor sharp or something close to it; it won’t kill him, you’re not that naive. But you’re sure that you can jab it into his flesh enough to hurt, enough to send him to his knees long enough for you to rush into his office and get one of the knives he keeps in his desk. And that’s what will kill him. That’s what will secure his death--and your freedom.
It’s his mistake, too, that he gives you a hint of privacy now and then. When you get dressed, especially. In the morning, when you change; in the evening, when you shower, then again when you change into your nightgown.
The pencil would be useless, without that hint of privacy. Because it had given you the opportunity to slip the pencil from your shirt sleeve and, quick as a bird, slide it underneath the comforter before he took you to the bathroom to shower.
And here you were, sitting in bed with a hand tucked under the comforter and holding onto that pencil; skin scrubbed raw and smelling of sterile soap. Clean. Fresh. Ready.
He’s still turned around, and you put an earnest smile into your voice.
“I’m dressed, Kai.” Dressed and ready to never call him Kai again. Dressed and trembling,  fingers tight around the pencil, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
The perfect time comes when he turns around, eyes crinkled in what must be a smile behind his mask, and approaches to tuck your blanket over you. It’s a soft think--pink and sweet, like he wants you to be.
His fingers are smoothing out the blanket, his words forming some sort of soothing goodnight message, when your arm whips around and you stab the pencil straight into his neck.
The pencil makes contact, you think. But it doesn’t plunge into his flesh the way you imagined it would. It scratches--leaving a jagged quickly -reddening gash--and Overhaul falls to one knee, giving you only a second to scamper off the bed and flee through the doorway connecting your room to his office.
He’s not down for the count, you can hear his steps, hear him shouting something--your thoughts are all jumbled and when your trembling hands grip the handle of his desk and yank at the drawer, it doesn’t budge. He locked it, today. Or maybe it was always locked and you were too stupid to realize it.
There’s no time to kill him, no time to attack--you can only run. So you do, socked feet scampering towards the door of his office, hoping it led to some sort of escape route. 
The door doesn’t budge, and you stupidly shove yourself against it, feeling hot, useless tears streaming down your face. Everything happens too fast and too slow all at the same time. It didn’t work, none of it worked, and you’re left pressing your back against the door and watching as an extremely pissed off Kai Chisaki stalks towards you.
You’ve never seen him like this--hives breaking out on his skin, one hand clutching his neck, eyes practically bulging out in anger and betrayal.
A gloved hand reaches down to grip your wrist, yanking you upward with an uncharacteristic force. You were delicate, a doll; an ornament to be cared for and cleaned. Or so he said, with words and actions. Which is why the tight grip, so harsh you wonder if your bones might snap, comes at you like a bucket of ice water.
“There will be consequences.”
The words are spit out, and your mind supplements the image of wispy saliva hitting the inside of his mask, a bitter poison. No sooner than he warns you, he grabs your arm, gloves slipping on your skin as he tightens his grip and yanks you upward.
Instinct tells you what he’s going to do, and your body tries to turn to lead, but there’s no escaping his grip in the moment. He drags you over to his desk and you see the inside of the drawer he pulls open--all manner of syringes and bottles and you already imagine a needle sliding into your skin, turning you to jelly.
It’s not the needle he grabs, but the handcuffs. And that makes your stomach twist worse.
The moment when you’re dragged back into your bedroom and tossed harshly onto your bed blurs over the next few hours. You will remember the feeling of hitting the mattress, the awkward way your arm bent as he held it down and snapped the cuff over your wrist and then over the pole of the bed. You will remember your heart pounding like a rabbit.
But you’re not sure exactly what Overhaul said--or if he said anything at all--or if you did anything but cry. Did you beg him not to hurt you? Did you tell him to fuck off? Did he tell you to go to sleep, or was it an implied command? 
It’s hard to say.
You’re not even sure if the later sound of hot steaming water from his office bathroom, the image of him scrubbing his skin where the pencil scraped it, is real or imagined. 
Sleep does not come for hours and when it does, you have a horrid nightmare of a large, unfathomable monster sitting on your arms, keeping you immobile. 
--
“You’ve lost the right to move without permission.”
There are many things you imagined Overhaul might do to you. You thought he would toss you back into that horrid room with its white walls and stripped toilet; or cut your meal to miniscule rations, to teach you to be grateful. Or make you sit in the damned clinic of his while he tested your blood to find some practical reason for your rebellion.
You didn’t imagine he would cuff your hands behind your back, and keep you on a chain that kept you leashed to the bed. It wasn’t even long enough to walk around the room, not that there was much to do anymore; when you woke up the morning after, your books, papers, pencils, had all been stripped away. 
It was a wonder he didn’t take the shelf with them.
“They will come off,” he says, gesturing with his hand towards the chain and cuffs, “only if I permit it. At meal times.” He pauses. “And bath time.” 
What relief might have come with the thought of being alone in the bath--those sweet moments of privacy--dissipates a few minutes afterward, when he leads you, hands uncuffed and sore, into the bathroom.
Only he doesn’t, as usual, usher you inside and give you privacy to change and wash yourself. He doesn’t even turn around. He simply stares at you, until anxiety forces you to speak, your voice a squeaky whisper.
“Aren’t you going to…” The full sentence doesn’t come. Aren’t you going to leave? Let me get undressed? Look away? 
He only blinks at you. 
“No.” The word is short and clipped and awful in its simplicity.  “You might try something. You’ve lost the right to privacy.”
Heat rises to your cheek and awful bile claws up your throat with it. He can’t--he wouldn’t look; that is one thing he never did, despite all his hovering and controlling. 
He must catch your thoughts, because from behind the mask comes an almost throaty murmur. “I’m not base. I’m only watching to make sure you don’t do something dangerous to yourself or others.” He swallows, his throat bobbing. “Don’t trouble yourself about that.”
Oh, but you do trouble yourself. Your hands shake as you pull off your nightgown, smelling of sweat from last night’s activities, and fold it carefully on the countertop. Shame crawls inside your stomach and you cover yourself as best you can, shifting positions as you step into the tub. 
Your hands reach instinctively to draw the curtain behind you, only to realize that the curtain that you usually pull for your showers is gone. 
“Take a bath,” he says, simply. “Until you’ve earned the curtain back.”
Something low rumbles in your stomach and you know it’s not hunger. Slowly, you lower yourself down into the tub, pulling your knees to your chest to cover as much as possible. Because he’s still just--staring at you.
He stares even as you turn on the water and begin to fill the tub and wash yourself, quickly as can be, with hot water and soap. Showering usually felt good; it was like taking away a layer of invisible grime that built up around him. But with his eyes on you the entire time, it’s like the grime sticks to your skin, no matter how much you scrub. 
The lack of commentary on your nakedness is somehow just as worse than his gaze upon it.
--
Life, such as it was, quickly turns to shit. 
Overhaul keeps you chained to the bed unless he’s in the room. And even then, there are times where he insists you stay cuffed or leashed to the bed like a wayward dog. 
“You can’t be trusted on your own,” is all he says, if you ask him about it. 
He doesn’t look away when you get dressed. When you bathe. Even when you go to the bathroom.
When you protest too much, when you squirm and kick at the chain and pull your hands harshly against the cuffs, he merely threatens to gag you; to tighten the chain; to leave you cuffed when you bathe and eat, which means he’ll be the one doing the scrubbing and the feeding.
You stop fighting, after that. The threat hits your chest hard and you’re forced to accept the new routine.
That’s what it is, after all. A routine. 
You accept it for what it is--life, now. A new reality.
It’s your new reality that you sleep in soft nightgowns with a cold chain around your ankle and a cuff on your wrist. It’s your new reality that Overhaul stands and stares while you bathe, taking in your body and occasionally critiquing your washing technique. 
It’s your new reality that you have no such thing as privacy, no such thing as softness or entertainment or the quiet enjoyment that comes (however unbidden) from reading your books in the afternoon or drawing on a fresh sheet of paper. 
Now, you have only yourself and Overhaul and the basic functions of life. 
--
“You’ve been behaving,” he remarks one day. A simple compliment for the simple act of no longer fighting against the cuffs, no longer tugging at the chain around your ankle. 
It’s true, though. You haven’t fought. Or argued about the new rules. And you haven’t so much as thought about another escape attempt. The last one was so futile, and look where it got you? Chained and stared at, like an animal in a zoo; hardly worth the effort.
But–but, but, but. When you go into the bathroom that morning, the shower curtain is back.
He doesn’t turn around when you change, and it doesn’t bother you because, after all---it’s a start.
And that night--
“The handcuffs will stay off,” he tells you mildly, locking the chain around your ankle, “if you continue to behave.”
You do behave.
The next week, it is the chain that will stay off--if you continue to behave. And you strive to behave, because the thrill of being able to properly toss and turn and curl up in bed is worth it. And it’s not as if misbehaving got you anywhere before, did it? 
And one blissful morning, you wake up to find your books returned. Your papers. And--not pencils, no. Large crayons, the kind you give to children. Still, still, it’s something.
You swear you can see his smile from behind the mask as you marvel at them, thinking of the ways you’ll be able to occupy yourself with the bright, waxy colors. 
“These will remain,” he says, “if you continue to behave.”
And you do--
You do behave.
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