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tropes-and-tales · 1 year ago

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Dyin' for a Taste

Day 11: Face Sitting (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Idiots in love; pining; smut (oral, f!receiving); 18+ only.

Word Count: 4096

AN: This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: When I say this is not edited, please know it is NOT EDITED. Full of typos and sloppy typing. Tropes is a fat-fingered old crone.

It starts with a joke.

The 141 is on a covert ops in the mountains. It’s cold—the sort of cold that burns, that makes the bones ache. You’re posted up in a perch, your sniper’s rifle at the ready if shit goes south. The rest of the team is in the square below, waiting for the drop.

“My bollacks are gonna freeze off,” Soap complains over the comms, and you snort at the whining tone in his soft Scottish brogue.

“Shoulda dressed for the weather,” you reply. “Ghost probably has a spare balaclava.”

“And cover this handsome face?”

“Won’t be so handsome when your nose turns black from frostbite.”

You hear the tsch noise he makes over the comms, the very Soap, very Scottish noise of dismissal.

“You’ll have to sit on my face then, hen, and warm me back up,” he says.

You’re rarely stunned into silence—you and the guys are always making off-color jokes—but when you open your mouth to reply, you only gape wordlessly. The silence over the comms grows, expands, until Gaz—fucking Gaz—chimes in.

“I think she’s into the idea, bruv.”

And you can’t respond to that fast enough either, which leaves another long beat of silence over the comms, which likely seems like enough of an answer.

-----

The mission goes smoothly. The team splits up as planned to avoid drawing attention. You don’t see Soap again until a few days later when you regroup at HQ.

You think, perhaps, that he’s forgotten. Maybe that’d be better. You and Soap get along well, and sometimes he flirts with you, but he flirts with everyone. It means nothing.

And yet…

And yet, it’s Soap. You might be able to lie to others, but you can’t lie to yourself: you’ve spent many a lonely night with your thoughts drifting to him. Turning him over and over in your mind.

Soap MacTavish. Handsome, almost unbearably so. He could be a cocky asshole, be the sort of man who knows he’s hot and be insufferable about it, but he’s gregarious. Friendly. He’s a happy-go-lucky sort of man—or as much as someone in the One-Four-One can be.

-----

“Been avoiding me.”

It’s a statement, not a question. Soap corners you in the mess hall, his blue eyes peering at you without guile. He looks almost concerned.

“I haven’t,” you reply. You try to shift past him, but he puts a hand out against the doorway, bars you with his arm.

“You have.” He peers at you closer, his blue eyes somber. “What’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

You thought, perhaps, that he’d forgotten…but those somber eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, then smooth out as he schools his expression.

“Maybe you think my offer was wrong,” he says.

“I never said that.” You duck under his arm, but he lays his hand on your shoulder and stills you again.

“You’ve never said anything about it.” You don’t look at him, but you hear his gentle snort of laughter. “Your silence is deafening.”

You feel your face start to heat up because he’s not wrong. Too much time has passed now to address that moment in the mountains. You should have said something then, spat out some rejoinder to signal that it meant nothing to you, that it was just another dumb joke between you and Soap. But something about that dumb joke conjures up the mental image of you and Soap, and your face burns in embarrassment.

So you duck from his light grip on your shoulder and it makes him laugh again, then call out to your retreating form, “the offer still stands, hen.”

-----

A month passes, then another. You get leave for a few weeks and go someplace warm, a beach with golden sand and soft breezes where you can relax and forget the horrors of what you see every day.

Then you’re back on base, then another mission. Over and over, the same routine.

Through it all: Soap MacTavish, the team’s Golden Retriever. Always with an easy grin on his handsome face, a laugh, a joke. He teases Ghost, he does a passable impression of Captain Price. He gives Gaz a hard time about their rival rugby teams, but it’s always good-natured.

He jokes with you, but that joke—the one about sitting on his face—becomes just a joke between the two of you. You don’t know if the other men have forgotten it, but Soap only brings it up when you’re alone now.

At the barracks, in the rec room, he’s sprawled out on the couch and half-dozing, half-watching a rugby match. When you walk past, he notices, sits up. Beckons you over, tells you to have a seat…then thoughtfully strokes his face with that damned smirk and comically waggling eyebrows.

“You’re a jackass,” you call out as you leave the room, but by now, it makes you laugh…and it lightly stokes that ever-burning flame low in your belly.

-----

Another time, he sidles up to you at the range as you study your targets with their tight formation of bullet holes. He points out one shot, high in the corner of the paper, off of the concentric circles of the bullseye.

“Missed one,” he says.

You scoff. “One out of….many.”

He matches your scoff with one of his own. “Might be losing your edge.”

“I’m not.” You know he’s winding you up, but that missed shot galls you.

“Maybe you’re stressed out.”

You set the target down on the wooden railing. “Maybe you’re stressing me out, MacTavish.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His blue eyes light up in glee, and he only gets out the first part of his retort—You know what’s good for de-stressing—before you drop to one knee and start disassembling your sniper rifle, ducking your head and hiding your burning cheeks from him.

“…nothing wrong with it,” he finishes as you shut the rifle’s case, and you realize you’ve missed part of what he’s said.

“There isn’t,” you agree. You stand up and lean a bit on the courage that sees you through each mission. You look him square in the eye and add, “but you’re just flirting.”

He gazes back at you, a soft smile on his face, only a little teasing. “Not just flirting.”

“Sure.” You roll your eyes.

He makes his Soap-branded tsch sound, then he loops his arm around your shoulders to pull you in close. He smells like…well, he smells like soap, clean with a hint of something herbal. It’s nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times—in safe houses after a mission, walking out of a bar on a night out with the team—that companionable way he pulls you against him.

“It makes me sad when you don’t believe me, hen,” he chuckles, and it’s low, right by your ear, his warm breath fanning over you.

You’re not sure what spurs your next move. You’re a natural-born sniper; you take the measure of everything around you—the curve of the earth, the speed and direction of the wind—before you squeeze your trigger. You’re the same with people, cautious and feeling out every angle of their intentions before you make a move. But you know Soap, and the question around his joke is the only uncertainty.

Something makes you act without much thought. Your rifle case in your hand, your other hand tucked in your pocket, and Soap’s arm slung around your shoulders…the moment is crystalized, will be an easy memory to recall in the years to come because this is when everything between the two of you changes.

“You know what?” you ask, and you don’t allow him to hazard a guess. Instead, you gaze at him levelly, straight into those bright blue eyes of his and add, “alright, let’s do this.”

It’s comical, how the smile drops from his face, how his mouth makes a little “oh” of surprise. His eyes scan your face, quick, like he’s trying to find the joke, trying to find proof you’re just having a laugh at his expense.

“Bonnie,” he starts to say, and his voice has a rough edge to it. His voice is missing its usual teasing edge, and he pauses to study you. You don’t know if he realizes it, but the tip of his tongue darts out, licks against his lower lip, like he’s really thinking of it now that it could be a reality.

“Bonnie, are you just…are ye fer real?” His voice is lower and his accent gets thicker, and it sets a frisson of heat shimmering through your lower belly.

You refuse to blink. Refuse to look away. “I’m for real if you are.”

“I was never joking about that.”

“Then I’m not joking either.” You swing your rifle case towards the barracks, playing at bravery but willing the fluttery feeling in your stomach to calm. “So let’s go.”

Soap—gregarious, convivial Soap—says nothing else on the walk back. He keeps his arm around your shoulders, though, and his hand settles against your bicep, rubs you briskly before gently holding you there, like he’s proving to himself that you’re real, that the moment is really happening.

-----

Your nerve wobbles a little when you get back to quarters. Soap’s nerves must have a similar wobble, because he turns to you and his usual boyish grin is gone, replaced by a grave expression.

“You dinnae have to do this,” he says, “if you don’t want to.”

Part of you wants to back out, chuck him in the arm and say it was just a joke. You could still back out. Soap is flirty and gregarious, but hooking up would irrevocably change your easy relationship with him. It could change the tenor of the team. And yet…

…don’t you both face death every day? Don’t you see the absolute worst of humanity? Don’t your bodies bear the scars of your hard, unrelenting lives—countless scars, visible and invisible both? Don’t you all operate in your own bubbles of loneliness, sleeping alone night after night but crowded out by the ghosts you all haul around?

Is it too much to ask for even a moment of connection, of not feeling alone?

You gaze back at him. Sweet Johnny MacTavish. Handsome but not vain, smart but not aloof, funny without being cruel about his teasing. Is there anyone you’d rather be with?

“I want to do this,” you tell him, and there’s no hesitation in your tone. “If you do. If you really were just joking around, then no harm, Johnny.”

His somber gaze softens at your use of his real name. “Wasn’t joking at all.” Then he opens the door to his quarters and turns to you, invites you in with a sweep of his hand, and when you walk past him, he lays his palm on your lower back to guide you.

-----

In truth, you’ve never actually sat on anyone’s face. It’s one of those funny sex acts that you joke around about but have never gotten around to, like sixty-nine (always seemed more complicated than necessary) or food-play (always seemed too messy).

Soap, it turns out, has never actually had his face sat on.

And it’s adorable, how he sheepishly runs his hand through the longer stripe of his short-shorn hair and admits as much.

“Figured it cannae be that complicated though,” he says. He huffs out a breath, and you realize how nervous he must be, and it gives you courage to take charge.

“Kiss me first. Then we can figure it out from there.”

The tame command makes his face light up and he murmurs, “yes, ma’am” in his brogue, and then he does as you say.

If Soap MacTavish is generally the team’s Golden Retriever, bouncing around with a wagging tail, he kisses with far more finesse. He cups your face gently, reverently and leans forward, brushes the lightest of kisses against your lips like he’s testing the waters. Like he’s waiting for you to pull away, and when you don’t, he kisses you again.

It’s awkward at first, but only because you’re both so tentative. It’s uncharted territory. He must be aware that you’re crossing a line in doing this, you think, and he must not care either. But the awkwardness melts away quickly because Soap is a damned good kisser, skilled in how he moves his mouth against yours, his tongue against yours. One of his hands stays on your face, cupping you gently and steering you, but the other hand touches your waist, your hip, slides around to squeeze your ass gently before returning to the dip of your waist.

He tastes like something warm and spicy, like cinnamon or nutmeg. Everything about him is warm, really: the way he cups your face but runs his thumb over your cheekbone, the way his other hand holds you steady as he kisses you. And the way he looks at you when he breaks the kiss, the almost-shy way he tugs at the hem of your shirt and asks if he can take it off.

He’s warm too—his body, his skin as you bare it with each article of clothing shed. You strip each other in tandem, and the sight of him leaves you breathless. He’s like something carved by a Renaissance sculptor, but when you smooth your palms over the dips and swells of his muscles, you find that he’s warm to the touch, wonderfully so, and a wave of lust almost takes you out at the knees by how much you want to feel his body against yours, under you or on top of you, every inch of you pressed against him.

Soap must feel the same way about you—he touches you just as gently as before, almost reverent, but his goddamned eyes practically shine when he looks at you, then groans out, “fuck, but you’re stunning, hen.”

He maneuvers you both towards the bed, and then he stretches out across it, and this is precisely why your sexual repertoire has always been lacking: when a brutally handsome man is stretched out in front of you like a damned buffet, your mind singularly focuses on one thing, and you rarely remember that there’s other, more adventuresome things you could do.

You’re already turned on. Ever since the two of you walked back from the range, you’ve been on a low simmer of lust, and the desire has ratcheted up with each kiss, with each little grumbling groan of Soap’s, with each sweep of his big warm hands along your body.

So you’re already turned on, so why sit on his face when his beautiful cock—perfectly sized for you, the ruddy tip already leaking precum—is also an option?

And Soap is no dummy. He must guess at your internal battle because he says your name softly, pulls your gaze back to his face where he smiles that brilliant Soap-smile at you.

“Alright then?” he asks. He pats his upper chest. “You can sit right here, to start.”

It hits you all at once how intimate this is. Fucking, hooking up—that’s one thing. But sitting on your teammate’s face feels like you’re taking a further step into the unknown. Oral sex, to you, is already more intimate than regular ol’ intercourse, but sitting on his face feels…even more intimate. There’s a lot of trust on both ends: he has to trust you not to hurt him, not to put too much weight or force on his face or neck. And you have to trust him too, since you’re basically smothering him you with your pussy, and many men are precious little babies about eating pussy.

“I could just…” You trail off and gesture vaguely at where his erection strains and bobs against his belly, and Soap snorts before he replies, “we could do both, hen.”

When you don’t say anything, when you don’t move, he adds, “c’mon, sweet girl. I’m dyin’ for a taste of ye.”

The accent is unfair, you decide. The accent is not fighting fair. Soap’s Scottish brogue is charming in the best of times, but his bedroom version is thicker, at a slightly lower register, and it’s entirely unfair. It easily dismantles the rest of your meager defenses, so you nod and then kneel on the bed. But when you start to awkwardly clamor on top of him, he stills you for a beat and taps his mouth, says, “give me a kiss first.”

And the kiss is unfair too because it reminds you that it’s just Soap, one of your dearest teammates, a man who often holds your life in his hands and whose life you hold in your own. His now-familiar taste of spicy warmth on your tongue, and his lips curving in a smile against yours when he whispers, “climb on up, hen Don’t keep me waitin’ anymore.”

There’s no sexy way to climb on top of him. Do you just kneel by his chest and throw a leg over him? Do you straddle him lower and scoot up? You split the difference, try to straddle him on his lower chest and scoot up, but then his one arm gets pinned. Any other man? It might be a deal-breaker being so clumsy, but Soap laughs underneath you—a genuine belly-laugh full of warmth that makes you giggle too. He wrangles his arm free, then lays both hands on your hips and guides you the rest of the way.

This is unbearable intimate too, being so exposed to his bright blue-eyed gaze. You probably have tons of issues around previous men who didn’t eat pussy, who were grossed out by it, but Soap’s eyes practically glitter black with how blown his pupils are. His face rarely hides its emotions very well (he’s a shitty poker player), and there’s no disgust in his expression at all. There’s only desire, naked and apparent.

“Tell me,” he says, and his voice is a low growl that sends that frisson of heat straight to your core. “Tell me what is working for you, yeah? Don’t go quiet on me.”

You nod, and you wish you could think of something cool or funny to say, but Soap lifts his head a little and presses a plush, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, where both are splayed in front of him, and before you can even beat yourself up for failing to think of something cool or funny, his mouth is on you in earnest.

Soap, a damned good kisser. It translates to this, his skilled tongue and lips licking at you, suckling at you, swirling against you before he breaks up the pattern with an outright kiss, then resumes his routine. He traces the tip of his tongue around the firm bud of your clit, the perfect amount of pressure before he snakes it lower, lapping at the arousal leaking from your entrance. He’s unabashed about it, groans against your feverish skin, and you love him in this moment—love that he wasn’t joking after all, love that he had led you here, where you sit perched on him while he feasts on your cunt and seems to genuinely enjoy it as he does.

Any other position, you’d lean down and kiss him, or pull him to you and kiss him. Now, as he groans against you again, you reach down and run your fingers through the longer stripe in his hair. He must like that, because he groans a third time, and his grip on your hips spasms tighter.

You remember what he asked of you, so when he purses his lips and suckles against your clit, you gasp out a startled “oh!” but then add, “fuck, Johnny. Just like t-that.”

“Good?” It comes out muffled against you, and he pauses his mouth long enough to gaze up at you with a smile.

“So good.” You shift your hand, cup his stubbled chin slick with your arousal—a gentle movement that makes his smile soften too.

“Like when you call me Johnny, hen.” Now he sounds a little shy, like he’s edging close to something beyond a random hookup with face-sitting.

“Keep using your mouth like that and I’ll call you Johnny all the time,” you tease.

“Deal.” And then he’s on you again, laving your sensitive folds with his tongue, his bit of stubble raising a warm burn against your inner thighs. His hands on your hips pull you closer, and he encourages the slow, careful rhythm when you start to actually ride his face—a languid back-and-forth, mindful of his need for oxygen, while he eats your pussy with the fervor of a starving man.

Your orgasm approaches faster than you thought; you thought you might have to fake it, since you rarely come from oral alone. But there’s something about this position. You feel powerful in a benign way, in charge, but mindful of the man underneath you. You run your fingers through his hair and Soap preens at the touch, just as he preens when you pant out praise for him, tell him how good you feel. How good he is making you feel.

He must sense it because his grip tightens on your hips, but his tongue moves faster and focuses solely on your clit—teasing with the tip of his tongue, then laving it with the flat of his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

“F-fuck,” you choke out. “Johnny…fuck…I’m gonna…” but you don’t finish the sentence, you keen out a garble of nonsense as you come.

The heat in your belly pools over, spills over in a brilliant wash that courses through your veins, into your trembling legs and up through your body, makes your vision shimmer and crackle with sparks. Your heartbeat, your panting breath are loud in your own ears, and you hear Soap groan but he sounds faraway. He teases your orgasm, prolongs it by licking against you until you grip his hair tighter and hold his head still while you clumsily dismount, then flop gracelessly onto the bed beside him.

You feel boneless. You feel heavy, sleepy, like you could sink into the mattress and sleep for days. You close your eyes and feel the bed shift, and Soap disappears for a moment. You hear running water—he must be cleaning his face, you think—but then the mattress dips again and he’s curling his warm body around yours, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you to him, then settles the blanket over both of you.

“Good, yeah?”

You laugh. “Yeah, that was good. Especially for someone who’s never done it before.” A beat. “Give me a moment to catch my breath and then I can help you out.”

Soap chuckles above you, and you feel him press his lips to your forehead before settling again. “No need.”

“But I—”

“Already came.”

The gears in your head turn slow when you’re sated from sex. Coming makes you stupid. “Huh? When?”

Another chuckle, another kiss to your head. “When I was eating you, hen.”

You turn your head and try to peer up at him. He looks comfortable and sleepy too, content and sated. “Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told ye I was dyin’ for a taste.” He shifts a little, pulls you closer to him. He tugs the blanket more securely around your shoulders. “If ye want a second round, I’ll need a few minutes.”

You appraise the situation: the warm scent of Soap, the feel of his naked body pressed to yours, the warm little cocoon he’s created here in his bed. Of course you want a second round, but you’re sleepy too, and the thought of sleeping with Soap doesn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it might have seemed before he had his mouth on your pussy.

“Or we could sleep,” you offer.

“Sleep,” he agrees. “Round two tomorrow.”

The doubts from earlier start to surface in your mind, but they seem tiny and inconsequential when you’re wrapped up in Soap’s arms. You feel sleep tugging at you—he’s already asleep, you think, breathing deep and even against you—so you chance to brush your lips against the bit of him you can reach and whisper good night to him.

But he’s not quite completely asleep yet because he kisses you back, another press of his lips against your head, and he whispers back, “g’night, hen.”

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap imagine #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish imagine #soap x reader #call of duty modern warfare #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

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codtrashsammy · 7 months ago

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oh no i'm having more soft Ghoap thoughts

okokko this is more of a little ficlet thing but it makes my lil heart happy so enjoy <3

also y'all i do not be editing these. at all. I just be throwin shit down on paper and making my brain produce dopamine.

if you all have any requests though pls feel free to drop into my ask box <3 I will gladly write whatever. I'm sure i'll come up with rules eventually, but rn I'm pretty open-minded and can't think of much I would refuse <3

You're waltzing around your apartment, half asleep but with a tired smile on your face. Johnny comes back today, after all, and of course that means Simon will be coming too! You've been dating Johnny exclusively for a few months now. Sure, sometimes Simon will hold your hand, or pull you in for a hug. And sure, sometimes Simon sits with you in the early mornings on the balcony while you drink a warm drink, and he smokes a cigarette- looking at you with rapt attention and soft eyes, hanging onto every word you say. Okay, and maybe he calls you 'love' and 'darling' but he's British, so it's probably normal. But it's entirely platonic- you're at least 78% sure, and plus only Johnny had asked you out- so you have to stay loyal to him even if you do feel something for the bigger brute.

But! You need to get your ass into gear and make your boys- boy something to eat- knowing damn well they- he will be hungry when they- ah fuck it. You're going to cook them a good ass meal to enjoy- knowing they will enjoy it after a month of MRE's and shitty mess hall food (Johnny's words). So you do. You work away in the kitchen- though the clock reads barely past 2AM, knowing they should arrive around 3AM at this point. You've timed it perfectly, so by the time you set everything out on the kitchen island, still steaming and hot, you hear the familiar playful rapt at your door.

ba ba baba ba

With a grin you glance over the selection of food first- mashed potatoes, green beans, fried pork chops, and freshly made black tea- you make your way over to the door and open it with a grin. "'m glad you're back!" You bout out happily, sending both men a bright grin despite your slightly tired eyes along with theirs. "Missed ye, bonnie," Johnny is quick to just waltz right on in, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up slightly with one hand, his other hand occupied carrying his duffel bag.

A snort of amusement leaves your lips as you hug him back, pressing a kiss to his lips before batting at him to put you down- though he doesn't hesitate once he notices the smell in the house. "Oooh, what's this, bonnie?" Johnny hums out, dropping his bag somewhere in the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A soft laugh leaves your lips at his reaction, but you don't bother to answer him as you turn your attention to Simon, whose closing the door behind him. He's wearing his usual little black medical mask- the one he wears in place of the balaclava when he's off duty.

So imagine your utter shock and dumb fuck surprise when he pulls the thing down, steps forward, places a gentle hand on your cheek and kisses you. "Missed ya, too, love," Simon quips easily, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply dropping his bag and just walking right into the kitchen.

Sir, I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?! It's a thought, no words leave your lips as your cheeks heat up.

Oh no, you just cheated on your boyfriend- in the same house with him- with his best friend.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO NOW?!

Apparently, nothing but walk into the kitchen with your boys, watching as the two of them are already seated with stacked plates in front of them. You blink blankly at the scene.

You hesitate before taking a seat, sitting across from Johnny and resting your hands on the table, looking between the two of them as they converse casually.

"Take such good care o' us, bonnie, dunnae ken what I did to deserve ya," Johnny quips, looking at you with bright blue eyes and a genuinely content smile on his face between shoveling bites of food.

"Stopped bein' a bloody prick fer more than two seconds," Simon says, voice low and monotone yet somehow tinged with amusement.

You blink again. Huh "You kissed me?" You say it as a statement, but it comes out as a question as you look at Simon, ignoring their banter even though it makes you want to snort in amusement. You're too dumbfounded and bewildered right now to handle this situation. "Uh huh." Simon responds, flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Johnny looks between the two of you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, "LT, you sly dog," Johnny murmurs with clear amusement, elbowing the bigger man in the side playfully. You sputter for a moment, looking back over at Johnny, "A-and you're just- okay with that?!" You ask in utter confusion, bewildered but not exactly disappointed at the scene.

So you didn't cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend? Johnny looks at you and this time he blinks in confusion before turning his head and grabbing Simon's jaw, pulling him close and planting a kiss on Simon's lips, causing Simon to grunt in annoyance- only because he was still eating.

Johnny turns back to you with a shrug, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Even?" You stare at the scene with heated cheeks before throwing your hands up in defeat, "...Even." You relent with a huff. ....can't cheat on your boyfriend with your other boyfriend who is also your boyfriends boyfriend you suppose.

#simon riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #sammys soft times #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader x john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny mactavish x reader

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itsbeeble · 4 months ago

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Take My Soul, Take My Heart

SUMMARY: Seonghwa is a monster, this he knows. He is a monster, but he just can't help the obsession he has with love. You have taken his soul, staked your claim on his heart, and now he wants all of you

GENRE: smut, angst

PAIRING: pirate!Park Seonghwa x afab!reader

WC: 6,571

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie

FIC TAGLIST: @sanaxo-o

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: jesus christ yall im wishing you luck with this fic fr, lots of plot, violence (like a lot), many mentions of blood, weapons (knives, swords, guns), threats, swearing, alcohol, seonghwa is lowkey obsessed with love, Seonghwa and reader are both a bit psychotic, they kill a man (actually many men), bad depictions of pirates arrrrghhhhh, manipulation, murder, mentions of brothels, actually there are some scenes in a brothel so yeah, p in v sex, marking, oral (f and m receiving), poorly done dirty talk i fear, unprotected sex (please wrap it irl), this is actually kind of vile, mayhaps future hongjoong x reader but who knows, not edited so pls lmk if i forgot anything or if anything looks dumb as hell

A/N: HEYYYYYYY how y'all doinggggggg. thank you to @deobienthusiast for beta reading this IT TOOK ME SO LONG BUT RAAAHHHHHHH SHE HELPED MEEEEE. I've been wanting to do a pirate fic for so long but i never got around to it BUT HERE WE AREEEE PLEASE ENJOY AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKED IT PLSPLSPLS

Seonghwa learned a long time ago that love was nearly impossible with his life style.

No matter his charms, no matter his will, no matter how he fucked, no one would stay. Not once they found out who he was, what he’s done. The crimes he’s committed are enough to sway those that he swore he would protect as he worshipped them under the light of the moon, above the swaying waves. Love, however, is nothing to him compared to the power he feels when on the ocean.

It was a choice hat he made a long time ago. A promise, really, that he made to Hongjoong the moment he’d stepped onto the wooden planks of the Blue Bird. He gave up the idea of love when he first drew a blade, when he felt the first drops of blood hit his skin and stain his clothing. The blood of men and women who threatened his crew, who threatened his lovers, who threatened him. He’d grown accustomed to the metallic stench, to the warmth of the red liquid against his skin. He practically bathed in it, relished in the feeling of it.

Seonghwa doesn’t understand it, this feeling in his chest. This burning to be worshipped and loved. He cannot comprehend the longing, the desire in his stomach and in his heart. The longing that never leaves, lingering at the corner of his mind and at the tip of his tongue. Love is nothing compared to the power he feels with the weight of a blade in his hand, the metal of a gun at his hip. Love is a hindrance, love is nothing compared to the feeling of his weapon cutting through the air, through the flesh and bone of those who wrong him.

Seonghwa is soaked in blood still as he steps off the ship, his boots leaving wet footprints against the dock. Had the color of his clothing not been violently stained in the color, it could have been mistaken for the salty water that pushes and pulls against the rocky cliffs around him. A shoulder brushes against his, a hand pressing back against his chest to stop him in his tracks as Hongjoond looks up at him. That stern look is in his eye, one that the first mate had grown used to over the years.

“You know what we’re here for,” the captain’s voice is raspy. “Do us all a favor and don’t get distracted by any…side quests, if you will.”

Seonghwa’s tongue runs over his teeth, his shoulders rolling back and one of his hands coming to rest on the hilt of his sword.

“When do I ever get distracted?” Hongjoong’s eyes are weary with travel, flicking from Seonghwa’s head down to his toes.

“Not what I meant, Hwa.”

“He means,” Wooyoung comes from behind the two, squeezing between them and throwing his arms around their shoulders. “Don’t fuck anyone. You know it never ends well for either party.”

Seonghwa’s lip curls at the younger crew member’s words but he manages to hold his tongue.

“Leave the man alone, Wooyoung.” San chides, pulling the cook back by the collar. “It’s not his fault he becomes blind when it comes to women.” Both men laugh, and Hongjoong folds his hands behind his back.

“And this is funny to you two because…?” the captain’s eyebrow arches, his eyes glittering with a warning.

“Well, I mean,” San stands a bit straighter. “Shouldn’t he know by now that ‘love’ doesn’t work with our lifestyle? Women find us, they fuck, take a bit of gold, and run off or try to kill us before the sun rises. Sometimes both at the same time. Love isn’t something that works with us. We’re blind to it, or it is blind to us.”

Seonghwa pushes Wooyoung off his shoulder, his lips drawn into a thin line. Suddenly the bloody clothing that clings to his body burn like fire, uncomfortable and scratchy.

“I have things to do,” he states with an eerie calmness. “I’ll be back by sundown.”

You take notice of the man the moment he steps into the tavern. Maybe it was his delicate features. Maybe it was the way the tavern went quiet with something similar to awe or fear or both.

Or maybe it was the blood staining his clothing and dripping onto your freshly cleaned fucking floor.

You can barely hold your tongue as he approaches your counter, your jaw ticking and your eyes narrowed. His own, like that of a fox, are darting from person to person as if measuring how long it would take to strike them down. In a bar full of pirates, he is one of few that came alone.

When his eyes land on you, he straightens his spine. I am powerful, I am a god, fear me. His body language is screaming the words, but you’re screaming right back.

One wrong fucking move and I’ll have your ass on the ground with a bullet between those pretty eyes before you can blink.

His lips twitch up into a smirk, yours deepen into a scowl.

“You got blood on my floor.”

“I apologize.”

“You don’t sound genuine.”

He leans against the counter, eyes searching yours curiously. A glove-covered hand slides a gold coin toward you, your heart jolts.

“I am sorry.”

“Apology accepted, gorgeous.” Your painted red lips curl into a delighted smile as you snatch up the coin before curious hands wandered a bit too close. “What can I get for you?”

“Mead, any will do.” His eyes seem to be searching you, sizing you up, and his tongue runs over his teeth. You do as he says, all too aware of his eyes watching you and staring you up and down. You weren’t a fool. You knew of your…features and what drew customers in. Men, women, you couldn’t care less so long as it got you what you wanted. Gold. Silver. Fuck, even copper would do sometimes. There was hardly a level you wouldn’t stoop to if it meant paying back your debt.

You turn back to him, a mug of honey wine in one hand. He still watches you, curious and unashamedd of how how examines you. You let him, knowing deep down that you were doing precisely the same in order to ignore the man under your counter.

“Anything else, gorgeous?” You lean forward, tongue dancing across your red lips. He watches the motion and smiles coyly.

“Information.”

You kiss your teeth, arms folding on the counter as you watch him glance around the bar. “On?”

“A man going by the name of Socha.”

Your body stills, fingers curling into tight fists. You feel eyes burning into your skull, and the gun barrel pressing into your hip grows tighter.

“I know of no one by that name.”

The man searches your gaze, and you can’t find yourself wanting to look away. You want so desperately to scream out. He’s here, you want to tell him, there is a gun against my hip and a room filled with his crew all around you. Help me!

“Are you sure?” The man leans closer to you, tilting his head and bringing his lips close to your ear. “There’s a reward in it for you if you tell me where he is.”

“I know of no one by that name.” You repeat. “I would greatly appreciate it if you left my bar now, sir.”

He pulls back from you, pursing his lips briefly before returning to the malicious smirk. “If you change your mind, find Seonghwa on the Blue Bird.”

You don’t move a muscle until the door he entered through is shut. The tavern returns to its original volume, and the gun against your hip lowers. Your fists unfurl, and the gold coin hits the ground.

Socha rises from beneath your counter, lips spread in a vile grin and a stench that makes you want to gag.

“Maybe you’ll be useful after all, barkeep.” He leans in close to you, raising his gun to brush stray hair out of your face. Your throat tightens and your eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in your body screaming to run. “Loyalty isn’t something we take lightly on the Skylark.”

“I understand,” you choke out, praying to anyone who might listen that the gun leaves your temple. “Thank you for the…opportunity to prove my worth.”

Seonghwa doesn’t appreciate liars.

He also doesn’t appreciate the fact that the captain of the Skylark had decided to take an innocent woman hostage at his favorite bar in his favorite city.

It was obvious what had been happening. Sure, it was typical for a port city to be filled to the brim with pirates, especially at the local taverns. What wasn’t typical was for the tavern to be filled to the brim with pirates wearing clothing the color of drying blood, a symbol that the Skylark crew had taken in the early days when Socha spilled blood across the ocean for miles and miles, his clothing stained so dark it looked black.

He wasn’t stupid. He saw the fear sparking in your eyes the moment he said Socha’s name. Now it was time for him to wait for you to come to him.

“You seem so sure that this barkeep will show her face.” Yeosang sits on the steps leading to the upper deck, twirling a curved blade between his fingers.

“She was terrified. Socha was there. Whether she wants to or not, she’ll be on this ship tonight with information we need.”

Seonghwa leans against the railing, steadying himself against the waves that crash against the side of the ship. He’d changed out of the bloodstained clothing hours ago, washed the dried liquid off of his skin and let it run into the ocean. The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden light against his face that he soaks in with delight. The warmth of these last rays clings to him, and it’s when the sun has finally set below the horizon that he accepts that you will not be coming to the ship this night.

“Maybe you need to do a bit more convincing than just giving a woman gold,” Yunho stomps up the stairs from the lower deck, a crate in his hands and a grin on his lips. “Maybe that’ll get you something in a brothel, but that was a woman working in a tavern. She knows better.”

“Shut up, Yunho.” Seonghwa spits out, whirling on his feet and stalking toward the gangway with burning ears and a boiling hot temper.

He was pissed. He had truly believed that you’d show up. Was Socha still holding you in that tavern? Were you afraid of him? Were you afraid of what might happen if the captain found out? Were you loyal to the Skylark?

Seonghwa huffs, his hand finding the hilt of his sword again as he makes his way into the port city. It’s busier now that the sun is down, the streets crowded and filled with vendors of all sorts. Weaponsmiths, farmers, beggars, thieves. The streets became alive with everyone under the stars. It made it more difficult to maneuver quickly and quietly, but Seonghwa knew that he would only draw attention to himself if he moved any faster than he was.

A delicate hand grabs his elbow and faster than the brothel worker could blink, there’s a dagger against her throat and her back is against the wall. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted with shock. Seonghwa drops the blade just as fast as he’d drawn it, his eyes lit with annoyance.

“Care for a step inside?” Her tone, despite her previous shock, was sultry and enough to draw almost any many in.

“I am not interested in what you have to offer.” Seonghwa begins to pull away, but her grip tightens. Her eyes are desperate now, and Seonghwa allows himself to pause.

“I believe you will be very interested to know that someone has paid good money to speak to you,” she speaks quickly, tugging at his arm to guide him to the door. “Please. Step inside. They will guide you to where you need to be.”

Against all that tells him to turn the other way and run, Seunghwa listens to the woman. She steps to the side, that seductive look plastered back onto her face as she guides him and other patrons into the building.

The stench of sex is heavy in the air. It’s thick and nearly overwhelming his senses. Or, perhaps, it is the burning incense that overwhelms him. The smoke provides a haze, distracting him from the naked bodies all around him. Scattered across th4e ground, in chairs, on tables, in rooms that are only covered by a loose, sheer cloth overe the doorway. He avoids looking at anyone he can, but then his eyes find you.

You’re tucked away in the corner farthest from him, your eyes watching his every move. His head tilts, tracing your body with his eyes. Nearly bare like the women around you, covered only by a shear cloth seemingly lined with gold. You tilt your head up, practically beckoning him toward you.

He follows you, putting up no fight against the primal urges inside of him that tell him to pin you against the wall and take you right there.

His steps, careful and calculated, weave through the bodies on the floor, following you into the darkest corners of the brothel. You don’t let him get close, no matter how he chases you. It’s like a game to you, and you’re winning. Seonghwa lets it happen.

“I’m sure you understand why I brought you here,” you murmur, your voice hardly louder than the sexual noises around you. A private room in the very back of the building and secured by a wooden door. “I had to speak to you where we could be…private, able to speak freely.”

Seonghwa, for a long moment, doesn’t say a word. He watches the way your hips sway with every step, watches how you bend forward to light each candle.

“You said you wanted information,” you speak again, coming to stand directly in front of him. Your breasts brush against his ribcage, your hands reaching for his. “I’m prepared to give you it.”

“In exchange for a quick fuck?” He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head at you. You only smirk.

“I had to bring you somewhere logical. Pirates love brothels almost as much as they love my bar. Besides, if anyone comes stomping in here, at least they’ll get a good show, won’t they?”

You push Seonghwa towards the large fur-covered mattress with more force than he’d expected. He stumbles back, letting himself fall back until his spine meets fur. You’re quick to crawl over him, sheer fabric coming loose and allowing your breasts to come free.

“Why are you looking for Socha?” You ask him, hips rolling down against his. Seonghwa stifles a groan, relishing in the feeling of your grinding hips and the way your nails digging into his chest. His hands grip the flesh of your thighs, squeezing tight enough to leave marks.

“Why was he in your bar?” the pirate counters, eyes drooping in a lust filled haze. You click your tongue leaning down and nipping at the lobe of his ear.

“I asked a question first.” Your lips trail kisses down his neck, a trail of red lipstick following you, and Seonghwa feels air brush against his chest as you undo the buttons of his shirt. “Answer me, gorgeous.”

“He has something of mine,” he says, annoyingly calm given the circumstances you have him in. “I want it back.”

You roll your hips down with more force, leaning back to admire his sculpted body. You shouldn’t be shocked. He’s a pirate after all. One with a gorgeous face, gorgeous body, and you’d be willing to bet his cock is equally as perfect. Your mouth waters at the thought, your body sliding back so you have easy access to his cock.

“What does he have?”

Seonghwa sits up, leaning back on his hands as you work at his pants. A lazy smirk is plastered on his face, one that has your stomach churning and pussy dripping with need.

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts. “My turn to ask a question.”

His hips lift as you start pulling his pants down, exposing his half-hard cock to your eyes in the dim candlelight.

“Ask away, gorgeous.” Your hands inch forward, reaching for his cock in an act of near desperation.

“Why was Socha and his crew in your bar?” Seonghwa watches as you wrap a hand around him, a breath of air hissing out of him as you stroke him gently up and down. Your eyes lock with his as you lean down to spit on his cock, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from losing his composure.

You shrug at his question, letting a bit more spit drip from your mouth as you pump his now fully erect cock. “They wanted drinks, I suppose.”

“Bullshit and you know it.” Seonghwa grunts, letting his head roll back. You smirk, letting your free hand slip down to cup his balls.

“Tell you what,” you dip your head down and place a kiss to his tip. “Let me please you, and if you aren’t satisfied I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“And if I’m satisfied?” He asks, reaching a hand to tangle his fingers in your hair.

“You take me with you out of this godforsaken city.”

Seonghwa’s breath, for the first time, stills. He searches your eyes for something, anything to tell him what might be happening.

“You…you want to come with…with me?”

He’s confused. Why on Earth would someone like you want to come with him? “You have a life here. People who care about you, guaranteed safety. Why would you—”

“I have nothing here.” You spit out, leaning up to look him in the eyes. “I have misery and shame and misfortune. I do not care that I will not be safe with you.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Then we will make the choice later.” You kiss him gently, leaving him aching for more of you. “Let me satisfy your needs, Seonghwa.” Your hand pushes at his chest, urging him to lay back.

“I don’t even know your name,” Seonghwa’s head hits a pillow, letting his gaze settle on the ceiling above him.

“Do you need to?” He can feel your lips trailing down his chest, nipping at his skin and leaving marks he knows will not go away.

“It would be nice to know who I’m speaking to.” Who I’m fucking.

“I suppose,” your lips touch his hip, right beside a trail of hair, and he can feel the way they curl into a grin. “You can call me Y/N.”

Seonghwa can’t get a response out before your lips are wrapping around his cock. His fingers curl into the furs beneath him, fighting the urge to buck his hips into your mouth and force you to take as deep as you can. You could probably handle it, but he knows he needs to exercise restraint for himself if anything.

Your nails dig into his thighs, leaving little red crescents in his golden skin as you take him. He can feel your throat constricting around his cock, trying desperately not to gag as his tip hits the back of your throat. Your tongue runs along the underside of his shaft as you pull yourself off of him, kitten licking the tip before taking him all the way back down again. Your nose presses against his pelvis, and Seonghwa can feel tears hitting his skin. Or, perhaps, it’s spit dripping out of the corners of your mouth as you hollow your cheeks and swallow around him.

Finally a pitiful groan is pulled from his lips.

Deep and gravelly as if he’d been holding it in for far longer than his body wanted him to. Your eyes peer up at him, your tongue laving at his balls and your hand pumping up and down while your mouth is occupied. Seonghwa’s hips jolt, little drops of precum leaking from his tip in an endless stream. His back arches as your mouth returns to his aching cock, your pace fast and harsh as you swallow around him and suck as you pull back up, urging him to cum faster.

His back arches off the bed, his jaw drop and hollow moans pouring from his lips. One of his hands finds your hair, holding you in place as he begins to piston his hips up. Your eyes widen, your hands flailing briefly to find purchase on something, anything to keep you somewhat upright. You’re gagging now, unable to help it as Seonghwa’s cock punches the back of your throat.

You like it, though. You like how rough he is with you, the way he lets himself lose control and become blinded by his own pleasure. His hands yank at the strands of your hair, and a moan escapes you. The vibrations run down his cock, and suddenly Seonghwa’s hips stutter and thick, white hot liquid is spurting down your throat. You try pulling off of him, the liquid coming out too quickly for you to keep up with, but Seonghwa forces you back down, forces you to take all of it down his throat.

“That’s it,” he coos, breathless and mocking. “Take it all. Take everything I’m giving you.” The snide comments pull a whimper out of you, and you allow yourself to relax just enough to swallow all of his cum.

When he finally releases you and allows you to pull off, there’s droplets of cum running down your chin. Your cheeks are burning, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and you’re pretty sure your hair is a knotted, uncontrollable mess.

He’s smirking down at you. I am powerful, I am a god, fear me.

You raise yourself up, slotting your lips against his. You are powerful. I am not afraid of you.

“Are you satisfied, then?” You murmur, letting one hand come up to cup the back of his neck, the other slipping down to soothe the ache in your dripping pussy. Seonghwa kisses his teeth.

“You think my cock down your throat is enough to satisfy me, darling?” Your breath hitches at the vile nature of his words. It isn’t as if you hadn’t heard that before, however he says it so…condescendingly. As if you were a fool to assume that he would be done with you just yet.

“Are you not…satisfied?”

“I’ll make you a deal, darling,” The tip of a blade rests under your chin and your stomach churns, however it isn’t with fear. No…this is something else entirely. This is…lust? No…it burns too sweet to be lust. “Take me to Socha, kill him yourself, and fuck me in his bed while my captain kills the rest of his crew, and then I’ll be satisfied. Do we have a deal?”

“Will you let me come with you?” Your eyes gleam, and Seonghwa jerks your head up to kiss you. ‘Kiss’ being a very loose term. With his blade against your throat, he shoves his tongue into your mouth, and you push yours against him just as hard. Teeth clash, biting at each othe harshly in a motion that’ll leave you both bruised and bleeding.

“I’ll let you come with me.”

You weren’t expecting them to trust you. Hell, you half expected to be shot dead the moment you stepped onto the Blue Bird. Hongjoong stairs you down with curiosity and doubt in his gaze, but he says nothing as the crew argues over whether or not to trust you and your word. Or, rather, Seonghwa’s word.

“You think we can trust her?” Mingi is eyeing you up and down, his lips curled into a sneer. “She’s a barkeep, she’ll say anything for some gold and a quick fuck.”

You bare your teeth right back at him. “Is that not what a pirate is? Roaming the seas and sticking their cocks into the first hole they see and grabbing as much gold and ale as they can carry?”

Mingi is far larger than you are, but you are not afraid. You cannot be afraid if you wish to be on this ship for the rest of your days. You cannot be afraid of the men Seonghwa sails with and commands.

“And what of Seonghwa?” Jongho, the quiet one in the corner, chimes in. “Do we not trust him? Right hand of our captain, are you doubting that he has our best interest in his mind?”

“I think that he slept with the first person he saw and immediately became blind to reality.” Mingi snaps back. “How long before this one leaves you? How long before you decide you’re sick of her and throw her overboard?”

Your heart drops to your stomach and your head whips to look up at Seonghwa who has gone still beside you.

“What is he talking about, Seonghwa?” Your hand pulls from his, but he grabs it right back.

“He is speaking nonsense,” he snaps, eyes glaring at Mingi. “I know exactly what I am doing. I know who I can and cannot trust. She is loyal to us, not to anyone else.”

“And you got all that from having your cock down her—”

“Enough!” Hongjoong’s voice rises over the others. All it takes is that one word for all to go quiet, their gazes on him as he rises from his seat on the table. “Seonghwa is my right hand, if he says that this woman is to be trusted then she will be trusted by us!”

“But—” Mingi tries to argue but a pair of dagger-like eyes hone in on him.

“Do you want to be on slop duty?” Mingi’s face goes green and the eyes are trained back on you. “And you— are you so certain that you want to join us?”

“I am certain, Captain,” you tell him, dipping your head into a nod. “I have never wanted anything more.”

“Then it’s settled,” Hongjoong declares. “We kill Socha at sunset tomorrow.”

There’s an odd sense of safety that you feel while you approach the Skylark. You can hear the chatter of the crew from the edge of the gangway, but you know that a crew of your own is watching and waiting for your signal.

Your signal, of course, being Socha’s body being dumping into the harbor.

“Hey! Look who it is!”

A hand clamps down onto your shoulder and you grimace at the first mate’s disgusting smile.

“Little miss barkeep came to pay us a visit!” The crew erupts into cheers, some calling for a drink and some calling for you to give them a show. Bile rises in your throat at the sounds they make. Suddenly the blade up your sleeve feels a lot lighter in your hand. “How can we help you, little miss?”

“I need to speak with Socha.” Your voice holds steady, thankfully.

“Socha isn’t expecting you today.” The first mate clicks his tongue. “I’ll take a message.”

“This is urgent,” you argue. “I have information on the Blue Bird’s crew.”

The first mate barks out a laugh, throwing his head back as he bellows. The crew joins him, and your cheeks begin to heat up.

“You think we give a fuck about that measly little crew?” The first mate cries.

“What are those dumb fucks going to do to a crew of 80 men?” Someone across the deck cries. “We have ten to their one, they can try but they won’t fucking get past the gangway.”

“Now, now gentlemen.” A deeper, gravelly voice to your right grabs everyone’s attention. Socha leans against a railing closest to his cabin, lip curled at you in what looks like disguswt. “The little miss has information for us! We should hear her out.”

“Socha,” you breathe out andhe clicks his tongue.

“I don’t believe we have rewarded you yet for your…loyalty, have we?” He’s five steps from you, almost close enough to stab him. His hand reaches for you, and you take it. Two steps, only a bit too far from the edge of the ship.

“Can we…can we speak a bit more privately?” You look at him through your eyelashes, lips pushed out just a bit. “It’s a little loud out here.”

“Of course, little miss.” Socha’s hand on the small of your back makes you want to light someone on fire. It disgusts you, and the bile begins to rise in your stomach again as he guides you to his quarters. He lets you in first, keeping his eyes on your swaying hips the entire time.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, you spin around to face him.

He’s one step away.

The knife in your sleeves drops into your palm.

You raise your blade to strike him.

A gunshot.

Both of you go silent, your bodies going still. There’s something wet soaking your skirts, you stumble back. Your eyes raise to the man behind Socha.

The captain hits the ground, blood pooling around him. Blood stains your cheeks and your white shirt.

There’s commotion outside the cabin.

“I had it handled, Seonghwa.” Your eyes narrow, and your lover barks out a laugh.

“I know, darling. But he would have shot you the moment he saw that blade.” A body hits the door, wood beginning to splinter as Seonghwa takes the two steps he needs to reach you. Blood soaks the bottoms of his boots, but neither of you care. His hands come to cup your cheeks, blood smearing across your skin as he brushes over your cheekbones with his thumbs.

“You did wonderfully, my love.” He murmurs, and you find yourself beaming. “I think, however, you still have part of your deal to hold up to.”

“His cabin is a bit far,” your lips are brushing his and you lift your head just a bit to try and kiss him but he tuts at you.

“A deal is a deal, my love. I will not be fucking you near a dead body.” His nose curls and he kicks Socha out of the way.

“Fine. Have it your way, gorgeous.”

You take his hand in your own, swinging the door of the captain’s quarters open to reveal the end of a blood bath. Hongjoong is watching from the upper deck as the other six members of his crew dump bodies into the harbor. You catch his eye as you move through the masses and down to Socha’s cabin and he gives you a small nod.

You did well.

I know I did. You keep your head high, a proud smirk on your lips before you disappear with Seonghwa hot on your heels.

Seonghwa’s lips are hot on your neck, his hands dancing over your body grabbing at everything they can. Airy moans pull from your lips, an addicting sound that has Seonghwa afraid that you may be a siren. He cannot get enough of you, cannot pull away even if he tried.

In the center of the room, the two of you stand bare and ready for each other. A pile of clothes surrounds you, a bed behind you and a desk covered in papers in front of you.

“You’re fucking addicting,” Seonghwa growls, grabbing at your hair and yanking your head back to bare your neck for him. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

You can’t respond, hands shaking as they grab at Seonghwa just as harshly as he’d grabbed you. Your nails scratch down his chest, his back. Into his hips to try and force him closer to your body, but he keeps himself just out of your reach.

“Mingi was right,” Seonghwa grunts as he spins you around, pinning you against the desk and throwing everything that was on it to the side to make way for you. He shoves you back, pinning your shoulders against it. “I became blind to reality the moment I saw you in that fucking tavern. Addicted to you the moment you spoke to me.”

His lips reattach to your skin, making their way down your throat, past the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. His hands grip the flesh your thighs, forcing your thighs apart to make way for him. You’re dripping for him, you can feel the liquid pooling at your center, dripping down your thighs and onto the desk below you.

“Fuck, I will never go a day without looking at this pretty pussy.”

Seonghwa’s hand rubs against your folds, spreading them and rubbing your slick around for a moment before pulling back.

Smack!

The sting is almost unbearable, your back arching as you wail and Seonghwa’s hand cracks down on your pussy once more.

“So pretty for me, love when I get rough, hm?” You can barely hear him. Hell, you don’t think he can hear himself in this lust filled haze. “You’ve taken my soul, taken my heart from its confines. You have to pay for that, you know?”

You whine when his lips touch your cunt for the first time. Soft at first, kitten licks and little kisses against your clit that quickly become harsh sucks and nips that have your back arching and legs thrashing over his shoulders. It’s easy for him to pin your body down, making heat growing in your stomach as he eats you like a man starved. His long tongue dips into you, digging in as far as it can go before Seonghwa drags it up to swirl around your clit, drawing figure-eights with the tip of it and making your body writhe before he repeats the process.

A knot begins to form in the pit of your stomach, and you cry and beg for Seonghwa to please please please, faster, more more, god please. Fat tears roll down your cheeks as he focuses his attention on your puffy clit, digging his tongue into it and listening to the way you scream his name. Your back arches one final time before you’re coming undone beneath him, your body quivering and your hole clenching repeatedly. Your hands find purchase in his dark hair, yanking at the strands for some semblance of a grasp on reality.

You don’t get long to recover before Seonghwa is flipping you over and pinning you down again, face down against the desk. You can practically smell your own cum, and you try to push yourself up just a little bit.

“You’re not trying to get up, are you?” Seonghwa’s lips are right next to your ear. “You know what to say if you want me stop, darling.” His lips nip at your ear and you whine desperately, finally caving and letting your arms drop. “Good girl.”

His hands rub against the backs of your legs, massaging them gently before spreading them open once more.

“You ready for me?” His hand traces along your dripping folds, waiting patiently for your response.

“Please, Seonghwa,” you whine. “Please fuck me!”

So he does.

The stretch burns as he pushes in, but he’s quick to soothe you, kissing your shoulders and down your spine so, so gently compared to what you know he’s going to do to you. Your walls clamp down on him like a vice, trying desperately to push him out but pull him in at the same time.

“So tight,” he groans, biting into your back as he finally sheathes himself inside of you completely, engulfed by the warmth of your walls and somewhat reluctant to pull out again. “Fuck, you feel so good around me, darling.”

“Hwa,” you moan out, hands clawing at the desk as you try to push back against him, trying to get him deeper inside of you. “Please, please move!”

His hips begin moving before you can finish your statement. He sets a fast, brutal pace, each thrust punching the air out of you and leaving you wailing his name. You scramble to find purchase on the edges of the desk, holding tightly so as to not slide off. Seonghwa grabs at your shoulder with one hand, the other gripping your hip as he slams his hips against yours. His cock reaches places you never believe one could, brushing against a spot inside of you that has your vision going white with pleasure, your hiccuped moans becoming nearly silent screams. The knot inside of you draws tight again, and Seonghwa is practically throwing you over the edge as your body seizes up once more.

“Fuck,” he grunts out. “Cumming again already?”

“I— I can—can’t help it!” You hiccup. “Feel—feels so—so good!”

“Yeah, I bet it does,” Seonghwa grunts, letting his head fall back and his jaw fall open as your fluttering walls force him closer to the edge than he wants to be. “Fuck, don’t wanna cum yet but this pussy feels too good.”

His body folds over yours, one of his hands slipping down to find your clit. Cries of overstimulation pull from your lips, your body shaking as he continues to rail you into the desk. Seonghwa’s hips begin to stutter, and the moment he feels your walls flutter around his for the final time, he’s cumming. He breathing is ragged, quiet whines pulled from his lips as your pussy clenches around his cock.

You can barely move as he pulls out of you, your body covering in sweat and cum. Seonghwa runs a hand over his face, catching his breath and brushing his hair back.

“You alright?” He crouches near your face, tracing a finger along your cheekbone while you recover. “Here, let me help you.”

Seonghwa is quick to lift you up, shushing you when you whine, and carries you over to a surprisingly luscious bed. He sits against the wall, your body curling into his as you both recover. The steady rocking of the waves against the ship seems to calm you, your breathing evening out until you’re fast asleep in his lap.

He’s almost asleep himself until the door of the captain’s cabin swings open and Hongjoong barges in.

The captain’s eyes fall to you briefly, and Seonghwa swears he can see his tongue running over his lip before Hongjoong’s eyes are back on the right hand.

“We gotta get going, soldiers from the upper city are on their way down to find out why there’s bodies in the water.”

Your body stirs, eyes fluttering open quietly and Seonghwa grins.

His heart and soul belongs to you now. You, the first and only one to not run from the monster he’d become.

“And so it begins.”

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curiositysavesthecat · 4 months ago

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Sent to our inbox by the submitter: ❝there's a post going around in which the OP said they only read fics with a "1 kudo per 10 hits" to "make sure it is good" and asked other fanfic readers how they picked fics to read. the post was slightly controversial because 1/10 was unrealistic considering repeat readers, multichapter fics, etc altering the number in favour of more hits yet less kudos but most importantly, because it affected small authors.❞

More from the submitter: ❝numbers in percentages because some author have 1 fic and others have over 100❞

Admin's comment: Sorry, but the "1 kudo per 10 hits" rule is just dumb. As a writer and a reader, some of the most well and professionally written fics I've read don't even pass this so-called "rule". It's faulted and it's NOT a good way to determine if a fic is good at all. Because a fic that is centered around popular fandom or ship WILL almost certainly be guaranteed to have lots of kudos, because of how popular the characters are; sure, fics with lots of kudos can be good, but the number of kudos alone is not enough to determine if it's "good". Especially because lots of readers tend to NOT leave kudos even if they like the fics. And some readers tend to leave kudos on every fic they read, whether or not they actually like them. The "rule" will only discourage writers from writing and making good fics, so it's just outright harmful.

If you want to know if a fic is good or not, read the summary of the work and see if you like the writer's writing style (the summary is the most important factor for me when choosing something to read, because it tells the writing style the writer has and what the entirety of the fic will be like). You can also read the tags and see if those tags grab your attention.

I have never looked at the number of kudos a fic has when choosing something to read, and instead I only pay attention to tags and summary, and that's how I end up reading so many good fics.

— Admin 1

Edit: as people have pointed out, hits will go up if your readers love your fics enough to come back and re-read them; their views will be counted as more hits. But AO3 only allows a user to leave kudos only once. So it’s almost entirely impossible for most fics to pass this “test”, just another fault the test has.

I mean… according to the logic of the rule itself, if your readers like your works so much they come back to reread them, they will only increase the gap between hits and kudos, and therefore it’ll only mean your fics are “not good” because people read them more than once.

You see how harmful and unreliable this rule is?

This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

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constructive criticisms

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day two - afab!ficauthor!reader x javier peña

prompt : virginity loss [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 5.1 k

summary : javier peña has been a thorn in your side for months, the last thing you need is for him to find out you write dirty fanfiction

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, protected sex, p in v sex, oral m!recieving, fingering, mutual masturbation, viginity loss (duh), innocence kink sorta, squirting, reader is completely clueless when it comes to sex, javier is a dumb sweetheart in this, plot w a little porn lol

a/n : yippee! this is an idea ive had floating around for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity to do it! easily the longest of the kinktober stuff lmao which is why i didnt want this to be day one cause i didnt want to set a precedent haha. also i hate this but it's october so like i can't do much about that lmao. AND the edit was rushed bc i gotta get to work so apologies for any errors!!

“What’s that?” You slam your laptop shut the moment you hear his voice.

“Nothing.” You hadn’t heard him come into your office yet here he is, looming over your shoulder.

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can’t stand the mocking smile on his face.

“Did you need something?” You do your best to sound patient.

“I’ve got some suspect photos I need you to identify.” He’s still grinning from ear to ear as you hold your hand out for the file. You flip through the pictures before tossing them onto the pile of paperwork you’ve been trudging through. You’re waiting for him to leave but he just stays in place behind you until you spin around in your chair.

“Is there something else?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glowering at him.

“What were you working on?” For god's sake, drop it.

“Get out of my office Peña, or I won’t process your suspects.” Thankfully that gets him to leave, sighing as he closes the door behind him. Once you’re sure he’s not coming back you open your laptop again, quickly closing out your tabs.

The last thing you need is for Javier fucking Peña to read your Star Wars fanfiction.

He makes your life hell around the office enough as is. He makes fun of how you dress, he only ever asks you to file his paperwork, (despite the dozen others who are just as capable.) and you’re pretty sure he stole your lunch one time. He’s just in general a nuisance. (And it doesn’t help that he’s gorgeous and knows it.)

It’s not like you’re ashamed of your writing, you’ve mentioned it in passing to some of your friends around the office but Javier is different. He gives you enough grief without knowing how badly you wanna fuck Anakin Skywalker, you can’t imagine how much worse thing would get if he found you’re writing.

So you get back to work, trying to forget the interaction entirely.

You like to work late on fridays, it makes things easier, you don’t have to come in early on monday and no ones around to bother you while you work. You’re just about done with everything as you gather up all the finished documents, going from empty office to empty office as you leave the respective papers on each person's desk.

You’re nearly done, you’ve just got Javier’s suspect list to deal with as you step into the bullpen to deliver it you’re surprised to see him still sitting at his desk, everyone else is gone, only his desk lamp and computer monitor light the large room. You approach quietly, wanting to get this done as quickly as possible so you can just go home. You’re about to clear your throat to get his attention when you freeze in place.

You recognize the website he’s on.

You’d know that red bar anywhere.

There’s no fucking way.

You feel your face getting flushed, a deep shame settling in your stomach as you take another step forward just to be sure.

Archive of Our Own beta

And just below that, the name of your favorite song, but more importantly, the title of your fanfiction.

You’re so fucked.

You feel a mess of angry tears starting to pool in your eyes as you hear him groan.

That somehow hurts worse.

Not only is he reading it, but he also thinks it’s so bad he’s audibly expressing it. You’re livid, and humiliated, you should spend this weekend looking for a new job because he’s about to become insufferable. Knowing him, everyone will know about it before you even get in on monday.

In your rage you walk forward noisily, tossing his files down onto his desk, turning, planning on glaring at him once before leaving, hoping he doesn’t see how truly upset you are.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you’re met with. You’re expecting a smirk or maybe even a look of disgust, instead he’s gritting his teeth, his hair sticking to his forehead, a visible sheen of sweat on his face and most prominently, his hand haphazardly shoved down the front of his pants.

You both realize the predicament you’re caught in at the same time. You stare way too long. Eyes lingering on the exposed skin where his shirt rides up, a trail of hair running down his naval. Neither one of you moves until you finally snap out of it, squeezing your eyes shut and turning on your heel, walking as quickly as possible towards the exit when you hear the squeak of his chair on the floor as he calls out your name. You don’t dare turn around though, not slowing your pace until you’re out of the building and in your car.

Thankfully he doesn’t pursue you further as you drive home as quickly as possible. Hands tightly gripping the wheel the entire time. You can see your phone blowing up in your bag, the inside dimly lit the entire length of the drive. When you pull into your apartment building’s parking lot. You grab your bag and hurry inside, desperate to just go to bed and forget everything that just happened, ignoring the throbbing between your legs from what you just witnessed.

You step inside your studio, locking up behind you as you toss your bag onto the bed, shedding your clothes and stepping into the bathroom, praying that a cold shower will clear your head.

It doesn’t.

You feel just as hot and frazzled as you did before. Maybe he was just trying to mess with you. If that’s the case then now he’s just sexually harassing you.

Stupid fucking Peña.

You pull a tank top over your head and throw on a pair of panties before collapsing on your bed. You don’t want to look but you won’t be able to sleep if you don’t, so you reach into your bag, retrieving your phone.

Just as suspected you have an endless amount of messages from the man himself. You're about to start scrolling through them all when you read the most recent one.

[ I’m coming over. ]

Son of a bitch.

You quickly scroll through the previous messages.

[ I’m sorry, are you okay? ]

[ Call me or I’m coming over. ]

[ Please just text me back. ]

[ I really liked your story. ]

[ I’m sorry. ]

There’s about a hundred similar messages but one stands out to you more than anything else.

He liked your story.

Why does that make your face burn up?

You start typing, telling him that he doesn’t want to find out what’s gonna happen if he shows up but you’re interrupted by a knock on your door. You trip over yourself as you rush to your dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before peering through the peephole.

Sure enough, there he stands, he looks exactly like you’d left him, shirt untucked and askew, hair a mess, except now his hand isn’t in his pants. You’re about to reach over and turn your lamp off when he clears his throat.

“I know you’re in there, your car was out front.” Well, so much for pretending you aren’t home. You hesitantly unlock the door before pulling it open, plastering a scowl on your face.

“What do you want?” You try to look stern but you know you probably just look nervous.

“I just wanna talk.”

You’re hesitant but you open the door fully, letting him in as you return to your bed, sitting and pointing at the loveseat in the corner for him. Neither one of you speaks, you watch as his throat bobs, he won’t look at you, staring at his hands instead.

“How did you get my address?” You finally break the silence.

“Your file.” He says sheepishly.

“You can’t do that! That’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“That’s what you wanna be mad about?” Fair enough.

“Fine, why did you do it?” You don’t like that he’s here, in your tiny apartment, the memory of him splayed out in his chair takes up all the space.

“Which part?” He finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze.

“Why did you read it?”

“I was curious.” He looks truly apologetic, it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Really?” Your tone drips with sarcasm.

“You seemed really defensive, I wanted to see why.” It seems genuine but you know better.

“You wanted to embarrass me.” You say plainly.

“Why do you act like I’m out to get you?” His brows furrow and his mouth settles into a frown.

“Because you are.” You say it matter of factly, you honestly can’t believe he’s acting like he doesn’t know.

“I don’t understand what I did that makes you hate me so much.” You’re tempted to soften your gaze, but the last thing you need to do if this is all just some trick is appear vulnerable.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please, enlighten me.” He throws his hands up in exasperation.

“You despise me! You torment me every single day!”

“Really? I torment you?” He points an accusatory finger in your direction.

“You make me do your paperwork every single time, even when there are plenty of other people who are capable of it.” You feel the urge to stand and have this argument, you’re getting heated in several ways now.

“You do it better than everyone else.” He shrugs like it’s a valid excuse.

“Bullshit.” You snark as he puts his head in his hands.

“And I like the excuse to see you.” He mumbles before looking back up at him.

“You make fun of how I dress.” You’re quick to change the subject, not wanting to fall victim to his charms.

“I do not.” His voice pitches up defensively.

“You said I dress like your grandma.”

“That was a compliment.” He can’t be serious.

“How the fuck is that a compliment?”

“I love my grandma very much.” He sounds serious.

“You’re a nightmare.” You fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your head swimming with confusion.

“Have you ever considered that I just wanted to be around you? You assume that I just liked to bother you but maybe I just like being near you.” He stands as you sit up, a look of honest upset on his face.

“You expect me to believe that you did those things because you like me? Are we in middle school, Peña? You could have just asked me out instead of pulling my pigtails on the playground.” You stand, not liking the power imbalance of having him towering over you where you sit.

“I did, you said no.” He crosses his arms and you scoff.

“You did not, you can’t just make things up to get out of this conversation.” You poke a finger into his chest but he just brushes it away.

“I asked you out to lunch two weeks ago and you said no.”

“I think I would remember that if it happened.” His anger fizzles out a bit as he looks you up and down.

“I may or may not have thrown your lunch out that day so you’d be more likely to accept.” He gives you a sheepish look. “But you were so mad you brushed it off.”

“That was a serious offer? I thought you were messing with me.” He just stares at you, wide puppy dog eyes you have to turn away from lest you fall for this act. You don’t get a moment's rest though because as you stare at the floor a particularly harrowing thought crosses your mind.

“How much did you read?” You turn back to him quickly.

“Enough.” When you turn back to him he’s staring at his hands again.

You both know what that means.

“It seemed a little familiar.” He says softly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You want him out, now.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.” You’re going to look at job listings once he goes home.

“I think you should leave.” You clear your throat, nodding towards the door.

“I’m not leaving until we talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sit back down on your bed, your legs feeling unsteady.

“Well I do.” He takes a few steps in your direction and you immediately regret sitting.

“I don’t care what you want, get out of my apartment, now.” You head is tilted up completely as you glare at him.

“Do you really not realize exactly what is happening here?” You can feel his breath on your face, cigarettes and spearmint. You turn your head to the side, refusing to look at him.

This is exactly what happens in your story.

“You’re an idiot.” You whisper, willing yourself not to get any more upset than you already are.

“You wrote your story about us.” He says each word sharply as you grit your teeth.

“I did not.” Now who’s just making things up to get out of a conversation?

“Everything that I did to you, he does to her.”

You don’t have a response to that. What are you supposed to say? He’s right, straight down to the confrontation where he tells her he wants her and she tells him that can’t be possible. He hates her.

He kneels in front of the bed, moving to be in your eye line and when you go to turn your head he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“I really did like your story.” You shove his hand away as he says it.

“Don’t mock me.”

“Jesus, what do I have to do to make you realize I don’t have an ounce of contempt for you?” He stands, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You finally snap.

“Maybe stop taking my shit and stop giving me extra work and stop invading my privacy and just fucking talk to me like an adult, you arrogant, immature, son of a-“ He grabs your face in both of his hands as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours, you let out a surprised squeak as he cups your jaw. After a moment he pulls back and you’re left staring at him dumbfounded.

“Now, can we please talk about it?” He mumbles before pulling you in again for a single chaste kiss.

“Okay.” You feel a little breathless at the abruptness of his actions.

“I really liked it.” He smiles now, the energy in the room changing drastically.

“You keep saying that.” You whisper.

“It’s true.”

“Wanna give me some constructive criticism?” You laugh but you can see his eyes flicker to the ceiling quickly and suddenly you want to press further.

“You know you quoted me word for word a couple of times.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” You laugh again but now you’re genuinely curious.

“I guess I thought the sex scenes were the tiniest bit unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic?” You feign offense.

“Well yeah I mean, it’s written like you’ve never had sex. They go at it all night and he never needs any breaks? And doesn’t she have like twenty orgasms? I’m pretty sure she’d be in terrible pain at that point.” He laughs softly but when you furrow your brows he stops. “I assumed because it’s fantasy that that’s intentional though.” He adds on quickly at the end.

Your embarrassment is clear on your face as his own expression goes to one of poorly concealed surprise.

“You’ve never-” He whispers, clearly shocked.

“I’ve never.” You finish his sentence, not wanting to hear it out loud.

“I mean, that’s fine.” His ears are burning red.

“I know it’s fine.” You mumble. “I’ve had opportunities to, I just… I don’t know, I guess I made it too big of a deal in my mind and now I just don’t care but I’ve waited this long and-”

“Cariña, it’s fine.” He interrupts you now, that soft smile on his face never wavering.

“Do you think my writing would be better if I had more experience?” You say it like it’s a joke but he sees right through you.

“I’m not sure, how much experience do you have just in general?” He stands, moving to sit beside you on the bed.

“Well I’ve kissed people before.”

“That’s it?” You glare at him and he coughs nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

“I’ve been busy with work, it's just, it’s never been a priority of mine.”

“You do know… how to do it? Right?” You smack him on the arm.

“Of course I know how to do it, you read my stuff.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh come on, you said it was good!”

“It is good! Everything but the dirty stuff is really good!” You groan, putting your head in your hands, he sits quietly beside you for a bit, rubbing your back.

“Do you want me to teach you?” He says lightheartedly.

“Seriously?” You glare at him.

“It’s the least I can do for unintentionally making your work life hell.” He’s starting to sound more genuine in his over, it sends a chill down your spine.

“So what? We just… do it?” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of losing it to someone who knows what he’s doing.

“No we don’t ‘just do it.’ we do other stuff first.” He sounds amused but you’re glad he doesn’t outright laugh at you.

“Can you just- can you just tell me what to do?” You rest your head on his shoulder briefly and he runs his fingers through your hair.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes please.” You mumble, feeling a strange mix of aroused and nervous.

“Well, in one of the later chapters she blows him, right?” You nod slowly. “And you say it’s her first time doing it, she probably shouldn’t have been able to just take all of him in her mouth right off the get go, especially since he’s apparently nine inches? Which is a whole separate issue by the way.” You can feel your face getting hot all over again as he explains everything like it’s obvious. “If you want to start there we can do that.” He murmurs, trying to meet your gaze but you just keep trying to look anywhere else.

“How big is it supposed to be normally?” You chew on your lip, hoping you don’t sound stupid, you couldn’t be more thankful when he once again doesn’t laugh.

“It depends, but nine inches is a bit outlandish. Have you ever actually looked at that on a ruler? It’s way bigger than you think.” He holds out the estimated size with his hands and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Fair enough.” You lean against him one last time before sliding off the bed, kneeling in front of him. “So she’s like this.” You watch his throat bob as he swallows harshly, everything is starting to quickly become real as he nods. You reach your hands towards the noticeably larger bulge in his strict jeans, stopping just before you touch him. “Can I?”

“Yeah, of course.” With his approval you gingerly unzip the restrictive fabric, watching his half hard dick spring free. He’s certainly not nine inches but he’s still intimidating. You don’t have a frame of reference but you have to assume he’s on the bigger side of things.

“You don’t wear underwear?” You scoff, trying to lighten the mood despite the combined anxiety and arousal pulsing through you right now.

“Not usually.” He murmurs, notably softer than before.

“What do I do first?”

“If you want, you can start by touching it, just do what feels right.” He reaches down to hold your face for a moment until you’re able to calm down a bit. You reach forward at a snail's pace until finally wrapping a hand around the base, jumping a bit as you feel him twitch against your palm. You slowly stroke him, just once before looking up at him, a reassuring smile on his face as you stroke him a few more times, feeling him swell until he stands fully erect. Almost absentmindedly your other hand drifts between your legs, you experimentally grind against your own hand as you continue to leisurely jerk him off, watching how he grips the sheets when you run your thumb over his drooling tip.

“What do I do next?” You look up at him.

“Spit on it, hermosa.” His voice is raspy and you sit up on your knees, a line of spit falling from your mouth onto the head of his cock, drawing a hiss past his teeth. It’s easier to stroke him when it’s wet, you experiment with different speeds, watching his reactions until in a moment of bravery you tentatively guide him into your mouth. You can’t help but feel pleased when his hand instinctively flies to your hair, not moving you in any direction, just holding you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the bitter pre-cum as you open your jaw a bit wider, letting him slide over your tongue. As you take him deeper you feel him against your throat and you quickly gag, coughing a bit as he gently pulls you off. “Go slow, don’t take more than you’re able to.” You cough again, catching your breath before taking him in your mouth again, slower this time. “Use your hands on the rest.” He murmurs, the low tone shoots through you and you quickly go back to touching yourself with one hand while using the other to stroke the half of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth.

After a few minutes you begin to moan against him as you try to reach your own peak, your hand now haphazardly shoved down the front of your pants. He’s leaning back, his pupils pitch black as he watches you, his breathing unsteady.

“You think you’re ready for more?” He says sweetly, caressing your hair. You pop off of him, watching a line of spit going from the head of his cock to your lips.

“Sure.” You feel less nervous than you thought you’d be as you stand up, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You feel all fuzzy and slick between your legs, your pussy aches with need as he takes your hand, pulling you onto the bed with him. You sit up against the headboard as he strips completely, discarding his shirt and shoving his pants all the way down.

You can’t help but take in the sight of him as he turns back to you.

His warm sun kissed skin, the wide expanse of his shoulders a sharp ratio to his slim waist. He’s toned but he’s soft around the edges and his cock stands proud against the thatch of hair on his lower abdomen. You tilt your head the way it curves, admiring it until he laughs.

“I want you to do something for me that wasn’t in the story.” He climbs back into bed with you, playing with the waistband of your sweats.

“Sure, what is it?” You lift your hips, letting him pull them down, tossing them off the bed.

“I want you to show me how you touch yourself.” You stare at him, a little shocked by the request, your eyes going wide.

“Why?”

“I want to see, I want you to show me what feels good.” You want to feel more self conscious but he’s completely naked and something about the fact that you’re still a little covered up helps you relax, with a soft sigh you gingerly slip your hand down the front of your panties. You go off of muscle memory, recalling what you would do if he wasn’t here.

Tracing your fingers in delicate circles around your clit, watching as he begins to touch himself, almost matching your pace. This would have been a fantasy of yours that you’d resort to when nothing else worked. Javier Peña in your bed, revealing some sort of secret attraction to you, you just never thought it would ever come to fruition.

But here he is.

Ravaging you with his eyes as you dip two fingers into yourself with a shuddering breath, his own movements stuttering a bit as you do so. With everything leading up to this it isn’t hard to feel the familiar heat building as you expertly push yourself towards it. After a few moments more you shove your panties down completely, wanting to be unencumbered as you discard them. Without them restricting you, you can easily feel that hot tightening sensation approaching rapidly. Your breathing gets heavy as you grind your fingers against your palm, you feel the familiar fiery sensation in the bottom of your stomach as you start haphazardly fucking your own hand, you keep your eyes on the way he fucks his own until you’re just about to burst and he takes hold of your wrist, stopping you.

“Please I-” You let out a frustrated whine but he shushes you with a quick peck.

“I know, can I do it?” You nod frantically, you’d like nothing more. He gently pushes two fingers into you, you gasp in surprise at the sudden stretch as he slides them in and out slowly, continuing to jerk himself off with his other hand as he watches how you eagerly suck him in.

It doesn’t take much from there.

His thumb mirrors the motions you did against your clit and that’s all he has to do to push you over the edge. Your cunt spasming around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm, hot white burns the edges of your vision and you keep your eyes open long enough to watch as he squeezes the base of his own cock, groaning as he makes his own attempts not to finish. You're vaguely aware of him murmuring something that sounds like praise in Spanish as you get your bearings, he slowly removes his fingers, leaning forward on his knees to kiss you. You catch your breath through the kiss until finally he pulls back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” His breathing heavy as he nudges his forehead against yours.

“Is it gonna hurt?” You’re more curious than nervous at this point.

“It shouldn’t, and if it does I’ll stop, okay?” He hops off the bed for a moment, searching through his wallet before tossing you a condom.

“Okay.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” You carefully tear open the condom wrapper, handing him the rubber ring with a nod, watching how he aptly rolls it onto his cock.

“Probably wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t.” You slide down the bed a bit so you’re mostly laying on your pillows as he positions himself on top of you. He still seems worried about you so you reach forward, taking his cock in your hand and guiding him between your legs.

You can’t help but sharply inhale as he eases just the tip into you, your eyes flutter shut and your mouth opens slightly as you sigh.

God, you wish you’d done this sooner.

It doesn’t hurt. You expected a stinging, or a tearing, instead it’s just pressure. When you open your eyes you find his squeezed shut now as he slowly works himself into you, rocking slowly back and forth. He keeps your foreheads pressed together, occasionally, bumping his nose against yours.

“Still good?” He whispers, a noticeable strain to his voice. You nod, watching curiously as he pushes his hips forward in one last motion to fully seat himself in your heat. His jaw is tense and he’s breathing through his teeth. “So fucking tight.” He mumbles before leaning forward, groaning into your mouth.

“Does it hurt?” You ask when he pulls himself away with a soft smile.

“No, it just makes me worried about hurting you.”

“I’m okay, I want you to move.” You look down to where the two of you are joined. Watching how he gently pulls himself from you just a bit before pushing back in. That’s when he bumps against that spot inside of you that suddenly has you seeing stars, your hands grip his shoulders as a moan slips out of you, the grin you’ve seen a hundred times before forms on his face, you’d once hated it but now it has you gushing around him.

“Does that feel good?” He tilts his head to the side, nudging his nose against your temple as you nod fervently. He repeats the motion, pulling out about halfway before snapping his hips forward again, your back arching when he slams into the sweet spot inside of you.

“Fuck- Peña, right there.” You whine, your nails leaving little crescent indents in the tan flesh of his shoulders. He gets into a steady rhythm with it, crashing into you with precise deliberate strokes, designed to make your head spin. He grits his teeth once more, his breath going ragged.

“Javier.” He pants, gripping your waist to hold you still. For a brief moment you almost see vulnerability in his eyes.

“Just like that, Javier.” You stammer out as he bends one of your legs up, pressing you into the mattress further as he throws your ankle over his shoulder, the new angle letting him fuck far deeper into you than you even thought possible. The soft and slow Javier starts to dissipate as he bares his teeth, his breath hot and heavy through his tense jaw as he slams into you. The second orgasm building in your stomach isn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s molten inside of you, threatening to burst as he brings a hand to your clit.

“Shit- tell me when you’re close.” He growls, your vision’s already blurring again as an unfamiliar pressure settles within you.

“I- I am.” You pant out, he accentuates each thrust with a grunt and you feel yourself slip as he applies the slightest pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re positive you’ve never come like this before, you soak his cock, a flood of your release pulses out of you as you strangle his cock. He collapses into you, your orgasm sending him over his own edge. You feel him throbbing within you as he groans into the pillow next to you. The two of you lay in a sweaty, breathless heap for a moment until he pulls out of you with a hiss, rolling over, his chest heaving as he lays beside you.

“Now do you believe that I don’t hate you?” He gasps out.

“I might need a little more convincing.” You grin, reaching behind you to turn your lamp off before rolling yourself over so you're on top of him.

a/n : I have a very serious love hate relationship w this.

#lincolndjarin #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier peña / reader #javier pena smut

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chellestrash · 7 months ago

Text

Private Matters

Chapter VI

Cam!Boy Frank Castle x Female Reader

Story summary: After stumbling upon a cam website one night you quickly discover your favorite streamer. Unable to get the thoughts and images of him out of your mind you decide to become a supporter and the two of you grow closer to each other over time. Things get complicated when your close friend, neighbor, and crush decides to express his feelings for you.

Chapter summary: Forced to take care of yourself on your own after Frank left for work you decide on some help from a certain someone. Some time later you meet up with your neighbor and he does his best to prove to you how bad he left for leaving you hanging the last time.

Chapter warnings: explicit language, explicit content, smut, porn, masturbation, public sex, oral sex, teasing, pet names and more stuff like that

Word count: 5.8k

A/N: Okay SO...long time no see...but it's out now! I hope you guys didn't forget this story yet, im going to finish it i promise, and I'll try to get the next chapter out a lot faster than this one. Reblogs and feedback are oh so welcome and thank you for reading! Hope you'll enjoy this one. Thank you @chelseasdagger for proofreading and helping with editing this one! Love you!

Ejoy!

Series Masterlist

So there you were, laying on your living room couch in an overwhelming silence that highlighted how lonely your apartment currently felt. With your leg falling off the seat and your eyes stuck on the ceiling above, you let the next couple of minutes pass you by, quietly reminiscing on the feeling of Frank's touch, somehow still present on your skin. Dragging your palm down your face, you sigh loudly, hoping the frustration and disappointment of the situation leaves with the breathed out air. Your eyes drop, focusing on the front door that closed behind your favorite neighbor just a moment prior. Your brain, against your will, focuses back on what could've happened if the alert on his phone hadn’t, rudely, interrupted the plans you two had for the rest of the afternoon.

Grabbing your phone, you check the notification quickly but there's nothing really worth your time.

With no further plans for the day occupying your mind, you scroll for a bit, hoping to distract your mind and make the feeling between your legs disappear before it's too late.

With a loud sigh, you adjust your position on the couch, letting your legs fall open slowly as you close your eyes and try your best not to let your mind slip back to Frank. Unsuccessfully.

With your eyes closed, your mind begins to wander, wander back to the touch that previously left your body so abruptly. The way Frank's fingers felt, brushing over your skin gently but impatiently. The way he pulled you closer, not wanting this moment to slip away from you, and his lips. God, his lips. Your hips shift slightly at the memory when a barely audible moan escapes your mouth. Brushing the side of your neck gently with your fingertips, you trace over the trail of kisses he left on your skin.

“God.”

You grunt, opening your eyes after realizing how dumb what you're doing had to look. After debating on texting Frank, you ultimately decide that sending him a 'Hi, I'm horny now and need your help,’ in the middle of his work day was probably not the smartest move at this point in…whatever the hell you two had going on together.

“So fucking stupid.”

You mumble, quickly unlocking your phone, knowing god-damn well what page you need to open to deal with this whole thing. You sigh, rubbing your fingers over your eyes once “The Punisher” shows up in the suggested searches before you even have the time to type out the whole name of the page. You shake your head and click on the link that takes you right where you needed to be.

You scroll past the introduction that you've previously had time to familiarize yourself with on one of your visits to the site and glance over the thumbnails for new content. Your eyes freeze for a second as you scan over the title of the nearest livestream, “highly requested”, and then the hashtags underneath “pocket pussy”. Closing your eyes, you fight against your body's initial reaction with a loud sigh and scroll past the link, instead opting for the gallery of recently added photos.

It takes a moment to get through the new ones you haven't seen before; those that had been posted in the span of the last couple of days. The one that immediately draws your attention is a close up on the bulge in his dark gray boxers. You close your eyes for a second, and it's enough for your head to slip back to Frank. You feel the warmth of his cock under the fabric of his boxers, you feel it in the palm of your hand where you felt it not long ago and where you feel like you should still be feeling it right now.

Pushing your legs together slightly, you open your eyes and flip through a couple more photos but find yourself unable to really focus on the guy from the internet and focusing on your next-door neighbor instead. You try a couple more photos and even a couple of the highlighted clips saved on his pages, but much to your ‘surprise’ none of them really work as well as you're sure they would if it wasn't for your little bit of Frank Castle branded fun.

You scoff at your own thoughts loudly, rolling your eyes back and dragging your hand down your face as the frustration washed over your body once again before opening up your messages. Your thumb hovers over Frank's name for a moment as you question your choices, per usual.

Thinking about you.

You cringe at the words instantly, shaking your head to highlight the feeling to…yourself? Working quickly on the digital keyboard, you try to word your message in a couple different ways, feeling a slight embarrassment at every single alternation, eventually steeling on a quick.

How's work?

Hitting send, you raise your eyebrows and shake your head softly at your own incapability to talk to a man you were just about to fuck on your couch not so long ago. The message hangs in the air, unread for a while, and you assume he's busy. You let it sit there for a bit longer, attempting to distract yourself with some everyday chores around the apartment, before eventually laying back down on the couch again. No answer.

“He's at work, he's busy.”

You explain to yourself once more and work on convincing yourself it's a pretty plausible scenario since…you knew he was working. After a few more minutes you sigh quietly, accepting your defeat.

Hesitantly, you exit the messages app and open the browser on your phone one more time. The designated page already open and ready since you didn't bother to close it up before.

“Alright, you win.”

You mumble quietly under your breath while scrolling back up to the top of the page. Today's livestream only started a few minutes ago and as much as you hate you know their usual length, you're aware there's quite a bit of time left till he's done for the day. You click the link and stare at the small screen of your phone before deciding to grab your laptop from the other room for a more…engaged experience.

Back on the page yet again, you click open the live transmission before sitting back on the couch and finally decide to let yourself relax properly.

You watch the quick introduction where he gets in the frame and greets the chat, quickly getting rid of his shirt, leaving him only in his dark, navy jeans and you catch yourself smiling at the deep, rumbly voice. You would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the way he sounded. Aware of the fact that voice changers exist and people who do things like The Punisher tend to use them more often than not, you never really thought that much of his voice…well, except for how much you liked it of course and how it got to you. Besides all of that, he sounded strangely familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on the reason why. For some reason, you took notice of it this time more than you usually would.

“Think I might need some help today.”

His words quickly get you to focus back on the visuals more so than the audio of the stream. The frame is, as usual, cut off right below his shoulder. There is no way to see his face and as he reads out the couple of alerts from the chat you begin to wonder if anyone actually knows what he looks like. The thoughts leave your head as quickly as they appeared the second the man on your screen stands up to approach the camera. He takes a step towards the viewers and turns to the side. “You guys seeing this?”

He starts, stating the obvious as your eyes focus on the bulge in his dark jeans. The outline of his cock is as prominent as it possibly could be. The shadows only accentuate the shape, not leaving much up to the imagination. The alerts and tips in the chat ramp up pretty quickly as the community reacts to his state. He chuckles deeply and raises his hands up, but still keeps them in frame.

“Okay, okaaay, settle down. The show hasn't even started yet and you guys act like this?”

He clicks his tongue.

“‘Least wait till you see it, huh?”

The cockiness of the statement makes the corner of your lips pull up slightly.

The man sits back onto his chair, pushing his legs open with a grunt, palming himself over the jeans. Your head kicks you back to the way you pushed your hand against Frank's bulge. You let your head fall back against the couch and rub your hand over your forehead, debating on closing up the site completely and calling Frank.

“He's working.”

You repeat to yourself one more time, unable to believe how hard it apparently was for you to get over the situation. It felt embarrassing, considering the fact that he most likely already moved on from what happened this morning and was definitely not slipping back to the feeling of your hands on his body every couple of minutes while desperately trying to focus on something else. Grabbing your phone off the coffee table, you check for messages one more time. No response.

Your eyes trail back to the computer screen, and you watch the man push his hips up slightly to pull the jeans down, about halfway down his thighs, the fabric of the pants digging into his skin.

Shit.

You curse yourself in your head and throw your phone on the couch, attempting to focus entirely on the livestream now. The center of his palm rubs over his cock through the fabric of his boxers and a low, raspy grunt leaves his throat when his hips push up, chasing the sensation. You do the same, lifting your hips up to shift on the couch slightly, feeling the faint pulsation between your thighs.

He hums quietly, slipping his hand under the fabric and wrapping his fingers around his cock.

“God damn.”

He mumbles in a low voice, inhaling through his teeth quickly once he tightens the grip around himself.

“Shit.”

You whisper, pressing your legs together, playing with the hem of your pants for a moment as you think this over one more time.

“Aright-”

His voice makes you look back up at the screen.

“About the highly requested part…”

He starts, referencing the title chosen for today's stream. Reaching for something out of view he moves forward on the chair slightly, and you’re not sure if he does it just because or to very subtly show off the darker spot on his boxers right where the outline of his tip pushes against the fabric. With a quiet grunt, he now brings the object into the chat’s view, and you suddenly remember the tag on the video you noticed after you first opened up the page.

You feel a slight twitch between your legs when he presents the see-through, silicone masturbator to the camera and laughs out loud.

“Yeah? S’that what y’all wanted?”

His fingers wrap around the toy and for a second you feel Frank's big palms on the sides of your face. It feels insane how despite having this whole god-damn show in front of you, your brain still clings to that moment with Frank from the morning, but you can't help it. All you can really think to do right now is to give into what your brain and your body clearly need. You rest your back against the back of the couch and quickly slip your pants down and off your legs. Letting them fall on the floor, you spread your legs open and, with your eyes on the screen and your mind back with Frank, you let your hand slip between your thighs. Humming quietly, you push into the touch and close your eyes while slowly circling your clit over the fabric of your panties. It doesn't take long before you touch yourself properly, with the livestream playing in the background and your brain unable to disconnect from the memory of the morning. You're not even surprised by the fact of how quickly you manage to get yourself close.

With the sounds, the visuals in front of you and your brain doing its best to make sure the image of your half-naked neighbor replays in your head over and over and over again, you give into your body's intense desire.

"Oh, fuck."

He grunts again, raising his hips and stretching the toy around his length. The wet sounds spill from your laptop's speaker, and your legs twitch slightly when a loud moan follows.

"Shit."

With your eyes glued to the screen, you watch him pull the silicone sleeve up his cock, up, up and over the tip until he slips out of it completely. The thin strings of his pre-cum stretch out between his body and the toy, and you involuntarily sink your teeth into your lower lip. Allowing your brain to wander, you think about Frank again, focusing on the feeling of his bulge pressed against the palm of your hand. You try to imagine how he looked under the fabric, how he'd twitch against you if you grabbed him tighter, how he'd feel inside you. Your body reacts to the thought, legs twitch again as you speed up the movement, feeling your climax getting closer.

“...Do you think porn is cheating?”

You ask a bit unexpectedly, definitely getting the attention of a couple of people sitting around the two of you at the somewhat fancy restaurant Frank chose for your dinner date. To be completely honest, this wasn't the way you pictured him "making it up to you" like he promised the other day after he had to leave for work so abruptly, but you chose not to comment on the fact. It wasn't like you didn't want to go, or didn't enjoy this... you just simply pictured something in a slightly… different manner.

The older lady dining with her friends to your left gives you a very distinctive glare, making sure you know she heard you, and she does not think your conversation is appropriate. You choose to ignore her, rolling your eyes slightly before focusing your attention back on your date.

“Like doing it?”

Frank answers with a question, seemingly without a second thought, and you chuckle with a confused expression.

“What?!”

You shake your head, laughing louder now, ignoring another glare from the old lady and keeping your eyes on the man sitting opposite of you at the small, round table.

“No, just- like watching?”

You explain your question, already knowing god-damn well you won't just get a straight answer, not from Frank Castle. He seems to be unable to do that, at least in any conversations he has with you.

“Ooooo, oh, just watching, huh?”

He nods with a slight smirk, poking his food with the fork, and you nod as well, giving him a big smile with your silent confirmation.

“Like, if I was watching someone do it and was thinking about you? Hmm?”

You imply oh, so very subtly and Frank glances up now, eyebrows pulled together, the smirk never leaving that god-damn pretty face of his.

“That a confession, or?”

He teases and you roll your eyes with a loud scoff, so absolutely ready to deny the thing you confessed seconds earlier as if nothing happened.

“Oh, shut up.”

You play it off, but he's not ready to let go of it yet.

“Nah, you started, now I wanna know.”

He states, crossing his arms in front of his chest, determined to get the answer from you.

“I asked you first.”

Oh, that's very mature, you tell yourself, adding to the whole thing by mirroring his pose at the table, raising an eyebrow as you silently push him to answer your question first.

“Alright.”

He breaks first, admitting you're right with a small nod.

“I mean…guess as long as you don't know the person?”

He settles on his answer pretty quickly before taking a sip of the beer he ordered earlier. The same one he buys at the bar from you. The same one you pour with a small smile the moment you see him walking through the door at work.

“Why?”

He continues, bringing your consciousness back to the present, scrunching his nose with a cocky smile before squinting to try and read you.

“You wanna tell me something? Huh?”

He tilts his head to the side slightly before licking his lips and you realize he's serious. You don't really think he would mind it, if you told him he left you so horny you had to fuck yourself the other night.

“Oh, you wish.”

You mumble, pushing your ass back on the chair before leaning down on the table, chest exposed a bit more as you rest your chin in your hands.

“What would you wanna hear?”

The question leaves your lips and to your amusement, Frank's reaction only adds to the sudden rush of confidence that fills your entire body.

He grunts loudly, shifting on the chair slightly before clearing his throat, and you fight back the smile, sinking your teeth into your lower lip.

“Did you want me to just admit to it out loud? Hmm?”

You tilt your head to the side now with a wide grin on your face.

“Okay just-”

He starts, but you cut him off quickly.

“Did you just want to hear yes? Hmm?”

You keep pushing and he sighs loudly.

“That what you wanted me to say? Yeah, that's exactly what I did Frank, I just…”

You put on your showgirl voice and he shakes his head with a quiet,

“Christ.”

“Just couldn't help myself, couldn't stop thinking about you.”

You lower your voice and lean forward, closer to him, brushing your leg against his under the table and watching him move slightly on the chair again.

“That what you expected to hear?”

You ask again, this time casually as if nothing ever happened, and watch as he opens his mouth but no word leaves his lips.

“I beat you at your own game, Castle?”

He nods quickly, breathing out a quiet laugh.

“Think you did, sweetheart, yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname and you once again curse yourself in your head, your mind slipping to your favorite pastime activity as of late.

“Guess all that shit we did really got to you, huh?”

He speaks after a moment and you raise your eyebrows, surprised with his final attempt to gain the higher ground in this situation.

“I mean, you're the one walking out of my place with a hard on, Castle.”

You point out quickly, probably quicker than he was expecting because he chokes on the beer, caught off guard by your counterattack.

“Alright.”

He starts, wiping his chin as you laugh louder than before, celebrating your victory, watching him be stared down the older lady who has definitely had enough of the two of you at this point in the evening.

“Alright, you think you won, huh?”

He asks menacingly, lowering his voice slightly. You nod enthusiastically, finishing your drink quickly before innocently resting your face on your hands, elbows on the table, staring straight into his big, brown eyes.

“I do think so, yeah.”

“Mhm.”

He hums, and you know god-damn well he's not willing to give up just yet. Looking past you at the door to the bathroom, he thinks over the choice he's about to make, like he hasn't already imagined it at least three times since you started talking.

“Know how I said I'll make that shit up to you?”

He mumbles quietly now before glancing back over his shoulder.

"The thing we started? At your place? Hmm?"

“Yeah?”

“Think you’re up for it right now?”

He asks, leaning over the table, and you swear your vision goes a little blurry at the thought. You feel the blood rising up to your cheeks and the subtle tingling sensation between your legs. Your body answers for you as you shift in your chair slightly.

“Frank..."

He smirks, watching your reaction, before glancing around the room quickly to check for people who could potentially be listening to your conversation.

“Yeah?"

"Yeah, fuck it, let's go."

He scoffs, shaking his head before nodding towards the bathroom quickly.

"Go, I’ll pay."

“If your phone goes off again-”

You warn him, already getting up from the table and collecting your things in an excitement-filled rush. Frank chuckles loudly with a sly smirk on his face, looking around the room, impatiently waiting for one of the waiters to notice him trying to pay. You turn around and quickly make your way towards the bathroom, turning to walk down the small corridor before you stop in front of the doors. Looking back over your shoulder, you try to assess the situation. It's not like anyone from the main part of the restaurant could see at this point.

“In here.”

You jump slightly at Frank's voice as he walks over to you from behind, you feel his hand on yours and follow as he pushes the door open.

It's one of those... more elegant looking public bathrooms; it feels fancy, it's clean, it fits the level of elegance portrayed throughout the whole restaurant.

"Don't know how long we h-"

You hear the door shut behind Frank and turn around to face him, cupping his cheeks with your palms quickly. You pull him into the kiss and he grunts into your lips loudly while you two stumble to the counter under the big mirrors on the other side of the bathroom. With your lips pushed against his you gasp quietly, feeling the cold imitation marble pressing into your ass. You're not sure what exactly makes your brain switch off when he's this close to you. Is it the fact that you've been waiting for this since the last time you've seen each other, unable to focus on…anything really, your brain occupied by the memory of his touch. Is it the way his lips feel against yours, how he follows when you tilt your head to the side, push your tongue past his lips and your fingers through his hair? Is it the way he reads your body, knowing and understanding when, where and how to touch you?

Once again, you're not sure, but you know all you can focus on at this very moment is Frank Castle's body pushing against yours while his lips trace down your neck hungrily.

“Oh, fuck-”

You mumble, tilting your head down when the kisses grow rougher against your skin. Dragging his hand down your body, he stops right at your ass, his thumb brushing over the fabric while his other hand holds the side of your face as his lips find their way back to yours once again.

He grunts loud once you touch him over the fabric of his pants. Pulling away from the kiss he glances down, focuses on how your fingers feel him and work over the growing bulge between his legs. He lets out a deep, low hum, closing his eyes for a second before staring into your eyes again.

“You feel that? Hmm?”

You nod, pushing your palm against him harder, satisfied with the effect you clearly have on him. He glances back at the bathroom door over his shoulder before turning back to face you again, panting quietly as his lips part, and he asks you a question.

“You want this?”

He asks, hand slipping under the black dress you chose to wear to the dinner. His thumb brushes over the skin of your thigh and you reach forward to hook your fingers over the waistband of his pants.

“Frank, I'm not fucking leaving after all that.”

He scoffs, looking off to the side with a big smirk before looking back at you, shaking his head at your words.

“God damn, sweetheart.”

His hand moves higher up your thigh and you push your legs apart slightly with an inviting hum. He glances back at the door one more time and you squeeze his cock tightly to get his attention back. Frank grunts, loudly this time and grabs your wrist before turning to face you again.

“Yeah, fuck it.”

He mumbles and you cup his face before pulling him close to you again. With your lips crashing against his, he slips his hands down below your ass before pulling you up and helping you up on top of the cold counter top. Pushing your legs apart, he steps between them and even closer to you. You moan into the kiss, feeling his hand touch you over the underwear under your dress, and your hips buck up into the touch.

He chuckles against you, breaking the kiss slightly before mumbling quietly.

“Shit. Look at you.”

He teases, but you wouldn't be yourself if you just let him have it.

“Yeah, you're the one talking?”

Rubbing your palm against his cock, you feel how hard he is now, straining against the tick fabric.

He grinds, bucking into your palm, and you part your lips, grinning at his reaction.

“Shit, look at you, Frankie.”

You turn his own words against him before quickly working the zipper of his pants undone, but he wraps his fingers around your wrist before you can finish.

“Yeah, no, we're not doing that, sweetheart.”

You frown, looking at him with a confused expression as you try to read his intentions.

“Said I’ll make it up to you.”

Your legs twitch slightly at the words.

“Think I can do that?”

He mumbles with his fingers still wrapped around your wrists.

“Promised I'd do it, right?”

He continues quietly, dropping down on one knee and then slowly on the other, right here, right between your legs, right in front of you in the middle of the bathroom at a restaurant you didn't even know existed a couple of hours ago. The sounds of a busy room full of people on the other side of the wall slips through the cracks under the door.

FUCK

You curse in your head while slowly spreading your legs apart in front of him. Frank's hands move from your wrists to your thighs, rubbing slowly up and down your body. He strategically pushes the hem of your dress up your body before resting his head against your left thigh, clearly taking his fucking time.

“Frank, I swear to god if someone walks in now-."

You grunt, moving your hands away from him before quickly pulling the skirt up. He's quick to help, hooking his fingers over the hem of your panties before pulling them down your legs quickly. Making sure not to let the fabric touch the floor, he hides the small piece of fabric in his pocket before glancing over at the main door to the bathroom one more time.

"Yeah, what you gonna do then, huh?"

He asks, eyebrow raised, waiting for your answer. You roll your eyes and pull him closer.

“Shut up."

“Yes ma'am.”

He nods, pushing your legs apart more before shoving his face between them. You’re covering your mouth the second you feel Frank's tongue press against you in an attempt to silence the satisfied moan.

He chuckles, the deep, groggy sound rumbles between your legs and you buck your hips forward, chasing the feeling. Frank moves his hands to your lower back, digging his fingers into your back in order to pull you forward, closer to him. Pushing your legs apart further, you encourage him to continue, your fingers push through his hair as your mouth falls open at the warm sensation.

“You got any idea how long I've thought about this?”

He mumbles, pulling away to stare up at you, and you tilt your head to the side.

“Oh, so you’ve pictured eating me out before, Frank?”

You point out just to get to him, fingers in his hair while he scoffs and shakes his head at your words now.

“You just can't give it a rest, huh?”

He teases, moving closer to you again. His hand moves between your legs once more, his eyes still fixed on yours.

“Can't help it.”

You mumble, feeling the warm sensation of his breath on your skin. Your body shakes in excitement, despite your efforts to hide it, but it's not like there's much you can do to fight against it.

“Can't get over the fact that you've thought about it before, either.”

You admit, and he glances up at you again before pushing his tongue between your folds. Your hips push forward and you moan quietly, letting yourself enjoy the feeling.

“Have you?”

Frank mumbles against your body quickly before continuing to work like that.

“Frank-”

You start, biting into your lower lip as you grip his hair tighter once he makes you feel even better.

“Mhm?”

“Do you-”

You grunt as he chooses to continue talking.

“You seriously think,”

Another grunt as you feel yourself getting closer.

"You seriously think I haven't thought about us fucking before?”

Frank's loud grunt fills the bathroom of the restaurant, and your eyes widen slightly at the sound. His tongue presses harder against you and the pace grows faster as you let your head fall back, resting against the big mirror on the wall behind you.

The pleasure building up inside your body successfully manages to drown out the outside noise of the busy restaurant and for a moment you completely forget where you are. Your eyes close and your mind slips back to your apartment, to how you two got so close only a day before this, how he promised he'd make it all up to you and, now, taking care of how you feel—he was doing exactly that.

Your body twitches, warning both you and him that you're now closer than either of you thought you were.

“Really?”

He starts, going for another tease, but you push your legs together, pressing them against either side of his head and he grunts loudly once more.

“Don't-”

You attempt to steady your breathing, scolding him.

“Don't even start.”

You warn him, wrapping your legs around his back and feel how they shake with his deep laugh.

“Okay, yeah, let me just-”

He focuses completely on you from that moment and you can tell. His fingers dig into your legs as he holds you close. The tip of his nose brushes your clit while his tongue slips inside you. He looks up from time to time, searching for encouragement, seeking your approval or watching your reaction.

“Oh, fuck-”

The words slip past your lips and act as a cue for him, opening his mouth wider as he works his tongue against your clit. Making sure it feels good to you, he works your body with his tongue, his mouth, brushing over your exposed thighs with his rough fingers.

You feel your heart pounding against your chest, the blood rushing to your cheeks, and your body shaking slightly as he finally pushes you over the edge. Your entire body clenches around him once he slips his fingers inside you quickly. You grip onto his body, your hips bucking up and into his touch as you ride out the climax. The many moans, probably louder than they should be, escape your mouth before he moves his hand up to your mouth.

“Shhhh.”

He whispers, chuckling between the loud pants while watching your body slowly calm down after everything now.

You swallow hard; you're breathing faster than normal, your heart pounding in your chest, your legs now pressed together as you feel your body keep twitching at the memory of the feeling.

“Shit.”

You mumble quietly, attempting to get down from the bathroom counter, managing to succeed after another moment. Your legs shake slightly and you hold onto Frank when he gets up from his knees.

“You okay?”

He asks, staring at your reflection as you do your best to make yourself look somewhat presentable again.

“Don't- just don't-.”

You take a deep breath in, earning yourself another chuckle from your neighbor before he steps up to the sink, deciding to clean himself up. You straighten up your dress and turn around to look at his reflection.

“So now should I-”

You start, moving closer to him, but before he can answer the bathroom door swings open suddenly.

You all freeze for a moment: Frank, you and the man now standing by the bathroom door. There's a moment of silence where neither of you know what to say and as you turn to face the young looking waiter directly with your mouth open, he decides to take the initiative.

“You…shouldn't be here, Miss.”

He points out the obvious, clearly not really sure how to react, and you decide to make it as easy for all of you as possible.

“Oh shit, it's the men’s room? I'm so sorry, I didn't realize.”

You grab onto Frank's wrist, speed walking past the confused worker and make your way around the many tables and unsuspecting people, quickly moving towards the main entrance to the restaurant, leading him outside. A loud, relieved sigh leaves your body once you finally make your way outside.

“Okay so…”

You start after a moment when the cool, evening air sobers you up a bit. Clearing your throat, Frank does the same, trying his best to ignore the way his cock strains against the fabric of his pants.

“Yeah, we should…”

“You wanna call an Uber?”

You suggest, and he nods quickly, pulling up his phone at the same time.

“We’ll get back faster.”

“Yep.”

You nod, fighting back the big smile quickly growing on your face as you watch him work his phone, casually taking care of your transport as if nothing ever happened.

The car shows up shortly after he books the ride and you get inside after Frank opens the door for you. You hold onto the back of your dress as you bend down to get into the car and you hear a quiet chuckle behind you.

You take your seat and Frank does the same, resting his hand on your thigh the second you nudge your knee into his, his fingers digging into your skin as he clears his throat. Shifting on the backseat sligtly he pulls the fabric of his pants away from his body, doing his best to keep it together and not let his mind slip back to the images from couple minutes ago.

“You think they’ll let us inside next time?”

He tilts his head closer to you and you breathe out a laugh.

“I mean we didn’t do anything.”

You lower your voice, glancing at the driver before resting your head against Franks shoulder.

“I think no one saw us…except that one guy.”

“Yeah okay, ill let you belive that.”

You laugh again, before exhaliging loudly.

Frank glance at his phone, making sure the driver has the correct address, the building you two lived at, before relaxing into the backseat.

“So, you guys having a good evening?”

The man attempts to strike up a conversation and you quickly turn to Frank, watching his stoic expression while he nods.

“Guess you could say that.”

His palm squeezes your leg tightly before he pulls you in closer, letting you rest your body against his completely.

Taglist:

taglist

@chelseasdagger @lorilane33 @dreadfulxives18 @5thelement @desert-fern

@joybabyjune @ohgodthebogisback

@barnesbabee @babeincolor @liadamerondjarin @therashslingingslasher @lostfleurs @httpwintersoldier @witchychanel @atemydadforbreakfast @sumo-b98 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight @violetcyerce

@groovypandaeagle @aishaleblanc @corruptedfool

#frank castle #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x reader #the punisher #jon bernthal #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle au #frank castle smut #the punisher fanfiction #marvel

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lynnlovesthestars · 1 year ago

Text

Scars.

Pairing: Astarion x reader Genre and warnings: angst, lots of it, hurt barely any comfort, allusions to sexual assault, past trauma, graphic description of torture, kidnapping, blood, violence, set in act 3, mention of death. Notes: not proof read ngl, i wrote it after dreaming it, and i didnt even wanna read it again, i cried like a bitch cause it’s kinda like…. past experience projected? just yeah dont ask if im ok after writing this, the answer is no lmao... also just a side note since it’s the first time im posting on this profile, but english is not my first language so please be mindful about it. Edit 10/06/23: i finally went through it end edited it.. i hope i catched all the errors cause idk if i'll ever be strong enough to give it another read ahah

Getting so close to someone meant so much for Astarion, and the more he cared, the more new fears would swim through his brain.

Since you arrived in the lower city, and his bed was no longer cold at night, a new nightmare snuck in.

The idea that Cazador would be able to get to you, and weaponize you against him, made his cold blood run even colder. Several nights you woke up to a trembling and sweating Astarion, as he was begging for mercy. He never explained too much about these nightmares to you, just letting you know it was about Cazador again and again, but he left out the haunting possibility of you getting hurt because of him. On the other hand you believed it was because you were getting so close to the Szarr palace, and Cazador knew about it just as much as Astarion did.

It was the middle of the night when the sound of a broken glass stirred you awake. You looked around you, Astarion still deep into his meditating state, while the others were asleep as well, none of them reacted to the sound like you did. Maybe you just had a light sleep, you thought, and someone in the tavern dropped a few glasses or something. It was when hands gripped your wrists that you jolted up, looking behind you. It was too dark to see, and all you could spot were the deep red eyes, like Astarion's, though they lacked the warmth of his.

A shiver ran through your spine as you realized what was happening, but when you tried to call for the others, you realized how deep in shit you actually were: no sound would leave your lips, like you were silenced.

"There's no need to be afraid, Tav." A deep cold voice whispered so close to your ear. "They can't hear you".

The voice chuckled at your failed attempts to call for Astarion, Karlach or anyone, as tears were starting to pool at the edge of your eyes.

Another pair of hands took hold of Astarion, magical shackles fastened around his hands and feet, just as they did to yours, and then they started dragging you both away.

The deep voice spent the whole travel taunting you with stories of Cazador, how cold blooded he was, and just how much he enjoyed torturing his victims. From one point of view you were already accustomed with such stories about him, but from the other, the idea of Cazador getting hold of Astarion again, made your blood freeze again. You were not going to let Cazador hurt him again. You were set on the idea.

When you reached the corridors of Cazador's palace, the silencing spell finally wore off, though Astarion was still not moving. Terror flashed through your eyes as you wondered if they had already…

"What did you do to him?!" You breathed out as you tried so hard to keep your calm in front of the spawns that were dragging and pushing you through the dark hallways.

The spawn scoffed as he pushed through and through.

"Don't worry, he's not dead" You could feel his eyes rolling at the question, like it was some dumb question you should have known the answer to. "..yet" he added at last.

You couldn't stop your mouth from twitching, between the state of rage that was slowly building up, or the terror of them hurting Astarion.

"What's going on? Can i know that at least?" You wanted so bad to cast a spell on him, charming him into freeing you, but without the use of your hands, you were useless.

"Cazador wants to give you a warm welcome into Baldur's gate" He giggled, as the smell of old blood mixed with the sour taste of the bile threatening to spill from your lips, and you couldn't hold it anymore, and your feelings started spilling out.

You couldn't help then to try and get Astarion free at least. You wanted to shake those hands off of you, to wiggle out of the shackles that bound your magic, but no matter how much you tried, you were like set in stone, unable to do anything but move forward, shed tears, and talk. Or more specifically, beg.

Beg them to hurt you, instead of Astarion.

Beg them to keep you here, and let your star free.

Beg them to turn you if needed, but spare Astarion's life.

Anything, if it meant not hurting the man that stole your heart with a dagger to your throat.

Quickly you were tossed in a cage, adjacent to Astarion's, and locked in.

The shackles that bound your feet dissipated, as the cage started ascending upward.

It halted in front of an altar, you guessed, that directly faced into the chasm you ascended from. Other spawns, around twenty you were able to count, started taking seats around the edges, sitting all in religious silence on their knees.

Astarion was still passed out, cradled on the floor of the cage, both restraints still tightly bound to him.

"Please, please, please" You cried out as the last bit of your strength was going to be dedicated towards trying to get Astarion free, far away from this place. "Let Astarion go, i beg you" You repeated your plea again, as you saw all those spawns stir from their seats, they wanted to turn their heads, to face whoever was foolish enough to beg Cazador for mercy, to trade spots with Astarion.

Everyone in that room knew what was going to happen, he was going to show them what happens when you disobey, when you run away thinking you can escape him. Instead you were so foolish and blinded by love, that you wanted to take Astarion's place, unaware of the extent that Cazador would go to. Yet you didn't stop, you kept begging and begging until a voice, the voice, echoed through the altar's walls.

"Tsk you just gave me a wonderful idea" the man hummed as his scepter started glowing, and Astarion started stirring awake, he looked around him, his tired eyes quickly widening as the reality around him had set in his mind.

"Let her go, you son of a bitch" Astarion growled as he stood up so quick, and gripped at the iron bars separating him from Cazador.

"Touch her and I swear I'll spill your guts right here" He spit out of the cage, a symbolic spit cause you were too far away to reach him.

"My, my, our dear Astarion has forgotten all the manners" He cooed as his lips smacked together, his voice so honeyed it was bringing you to the verge of vomit.

You wanted to reassure Astarion, let him know that you were going to do your best to free him, that you were both going to be out of there alive soon, but could you? Could you lie so much to the man you loved? Words were stuck on your tongue, making your throat drier and drier.

You guessed you zoned out for a few seconds as your head was flooded with thoughts, missing the hate Astarion was throwing at his master.

"Ah sweet Astarion, your dear Tav has given us a great idea though, it would be a shame to let it go to waste" He hummed, as the staff light up again, the lock on your cage fell down the chasm, as your trembling body was slowly being dragged out of the cage by magic.

"No, no, no, no" Astarion reprated as his eyes locked on you, falling on the long streaks of tears running down your cheeks as you tried to offer him a sad smile, your lips muttering an "it's going to be okay" while his body was about to give in to desperation, loud sobs echoed from him, as your heart broke at his sight: he was barely standing up now, his hand gripped tight as he screamed through the hall to let you go, to not hurt you, to stop. "This is just a nightmare" He fell on his knees as you were slowly dropped on the cold floor, barely keeping your head up as you realized you were still in his shirt, the one he loved on you.

"Oh dear Astarion" Cazador cooed again as he kneeled in front of you, his cold fingers getting ahold of your chin, to tilt your head towards his. "This is not a nightmare, this is real" His words were like cold daggers through your chests, you knew that whatever was going to happen, it was not going to be fun.

Before you could say anything, Cazador's hand slipped to your waist pulling on the shirt as you flinched away, disgusted by the touch of the vampire in front of you.

But he didn't care, he was swift in removing it, leaving you bare in front of dozens of eyes.

You could hear the rattling coming from Astarion's cage as he attempted to break free over and over again while his chest was about to explode.

He didn't have the right to undress you in front of everyone, he didn't have the right to touch you at all, not when he prayed every night to have the chance to see you bare, to hold you. His thoughts were swinging back and forth between desperation and deep seethed rage.

"My, my I can see why our Astarion has fallen for this little creature" Cazador's compliment almost made you retch as you stumbled back a little. "She even puts up a fight" He chuckled as he lunged forward just enough to grip at your wrist and whipping you on your feet.

Every inch of your skin was visible to everyone, from the battle scars you got through the years of adventuring, to the teeth marks on your neck, down to the stretchmarks that lived on your hips.

A shiver ran through your spine as Cazador’s fingers grazed over the two marks on your neck. “Mh, your blood seems to be sweet enough, right Astarion?” His cruel words hit Astarion through the chest. He was one word away from a breakdown as he couldn’t do anything but witness his nightmares coming alive, not his Tav, not when he would be so careful to cradle you and comfort you to his chest whenever he'd drink from you.

Whatever he was screaming was incomprehensible to you, as all you could feel was the way Cazador gripped and pushed you towards a plush chair, where he sat with legs wide open before dragging you on his lap. You felt so nauseous as he bent you towards the arm rest, making you face the cold grey floor.

You wanted to hear the taunting explanation of what he was going to do, but all the sounds were drowned by the thrumming of your chest and the desperation in your own thoughts, repeating over and over that you were going to find a way out, trying to convince your brain to shut off and dissociate as you were there, like you were just in a nightmare, and you’d be awake soon.

All you could gather was few words like “knife”, “mark”, reminder”, and then “Astarion”. He was torturing him through you, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The worst part in this, was that you were the one that gave him the idea, cause you wanted him to free Astarion, and instead he let it all out on you instead than on your Aster, as a punishment for you both. You cause you were so careless to offer yourself though you didn't know the risk, and Astarion for being reckless and disobedient. Right there, as the dagger pierced your spine, you regretted not whispering Astarion how much you loved him, while you were tight against his chest, when the world around you was asleep, and you had a corner of peace. You always knew what you felt for him, from that moment on the beach, at the shipwreck, and yet you just wanted to tell him in the right moment. But what was the right moment? You might never know, as a broken scream broke through your lips, salty tears flowing free, so much that you thought for a moment that you might have died of dehydration, if the knife wasn’t going to do it first.

He carved and carved over your back, intelligible lines and symbols as you finally understood what Astarion meant when he told you how he got his scars. How gut wrenching the pain was as he couldn’t move, and how Cazador didn't allow a break, and retraced the lines that were wobbly if he moved too much.

“You know?” Cazador asked, as everyone’s eyes were on what he thought was a work of art, your carved skin, while Astarion’s plea echoed over and over in the room. “Our sweet Astarion used to whine just like you” He hummed. “Just a pathetic little child” He spit out like venom as you could barely breathe out few words along the lines of “you disgusting monster”, though you were not sure you actually let them out until, Cazador’s laugh filled every corner of the disgraced altar. Your tadpole writhed as another line was cut at the height of your hips, before, Cazador started retracing the lines and pulling away the skin, exposing the deepest layers of your flesh, the pain was so deep your vision blurred, and you were so close to passing out right there.

You don’t know how long you sat there, you slipped between pain and numbness as Cazador slapped you back to consciousness whenever you'd slip away, you had to endure the agonizing scarring and remember every second of it. He decorated with bloody lines almost all over your body.

You didn’t know what was worse between laying on the raw scars of your back, seeing your own skin being peeled away or the cries and sobs coming from the man you loved. You had to find a way, you couldn’t give up, you couldn’t allow this monster to walk the earth again. You had to do it for Astarion.

You were not sure when he dropped you on the floor, your body barely able to hold itself together as finally you could look around you and towards Astarion. Every face around you was stoic, like they were used to witnessing such spectacle, and they knew what was going to happen next.

You wanted to reach for Astarion, to take him away from the revolting scene in front of his eyes, you wanted to take away his pain, give him the last bit of hope you had, but when you were about to link your tadpole to his to do it, you hesitated. Connecting your minds meant he would feel how dirty, wretched and lost you felt, along with the gut wrenching pain ebbing through your body.

You could barely make out the words Cazador said as his nails dig through your skin again, even when he pulled your eyes to his you could barely read his lips as he said words you just wanted to cancel from your brain. A broken sob regurgitated from your throat as he was going to take the last thing you had. You just had to let your brain go, right? To ignore the teeth dipping in your throat and the putrid hands slithering down your skin, taking away enough blood to barely keep you alive as he took you in front of everyone. It was no longer just physical pain, it was the way you felt your own body being stolen away and used in way no one ever dared before.

Numbness was all that was left of you after a while, of your barely beating heart while more hands crawled their way through places were you never wanted anyone to touch, then, in that moment, you realized you were free of your shackles, because you were so drained and broken that you could barely do anything. You could barely by aware of your surroundings, of how many bodies were preying on you, as you could barely manage to move inches.

Your vision was all but clear, you could make out the outline of Cazador as he was buttoning up his blouse again. Then you could see Astarion, still caged, struggling to stay sane as he wanted just to take you away from the monsters abusing of you, abusing of the fact that you were powerless in front of them. His eyes were a bloodshot, he was so hurt that he resorted to supplicate for mercy, to let you go and just kill him, whatever that could stop the agonizing pain. You didn’t have much strength left, maybe if you put all of yourself, you could muster two spells before passing out again.

It took all you had to even raise your hand towards the lock that sealed Astarion’s crate, you mustered all your willpower to cast that knock spell, just enough to let the damn lock fall down. Astarion instantly turned to you, to your teary form still being touched by unworthy creatures, noticing how your hand barely held up, as you tried to cast one more spell, just for him, before another broken scream echoed in the room, bouncing from wall to wall till it reached Astarion's core. The kind of scream that should never be drawn by someone, nevertheless by you.

The radiant dagger materialized in his hands, and for a moment he didn’t notice it as he was fixated on the broken look on your face, encouraging him to end his master, although you suffered right there, paces away. “I love you” You mutter barely, you wanted to let him know before you could draw your last breath, then everything blurred.

Everything was muffled, you couldn’t see what was going on around you, you just felt all the presences around you disappear, while Astarion’s voice was crystal clear through the excruciating pain.

"I'll kill you, then I'll bring you back, and kill you again.” He shoved Cazador on the floor, just like he did with you, to remind him how he hurt you, how he used you, how he touched the only person he should have never laid hands on. “I’ll do it over and over again until you have suffered a tenth of what you did to her. Then I'm going to gut you one more time, and paint this shithole with your putrid blood. The halls of this place will reek with your disgusting blood, to let the whole city be aware of your death and from which the hands it came from” His hands were shaky, but he had to do it. For him, but mainly for you. All that was left of him was you, and nothing could ever be enough to vindicate you.

The shiny dagger stabbed over and over again through Cazador’s chest, while Astarion cursed him, every thrust of the dagger through the heart earned a new mocking insult, a new reminder of what he did, while all of Astarion's anger was channeled into annihilating him.

You just laid there, all you could do was listen to the grunts and the hate slipping from your lover’s lips as he dipped that dagger in the gutted body. You didn’t even realized when he dropped the disemboweled body on the marble, you weren’t even sure you could breathe, at that point.

A pair of shaking arms wrapped around your drained body, Astarion’s shirt was used again to cover your skin, as he picked you up, trying to be as delicate as possible. His salty tears fell over your body as he carried away from the nauseating scene, you frail body barely shivering, and your chest barely moving. He was muttering something to you, but everything sounded foreign at your hear.

He had to move quickly, find Shadowheart or Halsin, or anyone to heal you, to keep you alive. It was in this moment that he wished he could beg a deity to keep you alive, but he didn’t trust anyone else to tend you. He needed to rush outside of this place and get you to safety.

He didn’t expect to see everyone outside the locked ballroom door, as they fumbled to open the door. They were taken by surprise at the sight of Astarion cradling you to his chest, all covered in blood, while his eyes were a pit of pain and tears.

Shadowheart didn’t hesitate to heal you right there before they all guided you towards the tavern you've been resting. They all offered to carry you, to make Astarion breathe a bit while on your way back there, but he refused. “I can’t..” He mumbled. “I don’t want..” His voice was just a whisper, broken. “I need” He wanted to break down again with you in his arms, but he had to lay you down first, to let you rest in a warm bed, he had to bring you to safety again, away from anyone that could pose any harm to you. He needed to see that smile again, cause no power flowing through his veins could have replaced you. He failed you once, he was not going to do it again. You saved him, twice, he had to do it just once for you. He had to thank you, and he had to tell you how much he loved you.

#astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion angst #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion romance #vault: lynn ☆#lynn: updates☆

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gothamusing · 2 months ago

Text

THE PENGUIN, EPISODE ONE. a collection of memes derived from episode one of the penguin series, for roleplaying purposes. feel free to edit as you see fit. do not steal. (18+).

i see you've made yourself at home.

what the fսck are you talking about?

you got some big shoes to fill.

you think i'm an idiot?

we keep a stash in the loft if you want a hit.

that's not why i'm here.

you know what i like most about you? you are who you are. you couldn't change if you tried.

i'm talking about revolutionizing the game.

fuck. look at you salivating.

this is power, right?

when i was kid, there was a gangster, real old-school type. he was a big deal.

you want me to be like some small-time asshоlе?

this is your dream!

you really think people'd make a float of your dumb face and march it down the street, chanting your goddamn name?

what a little bitch.

you messed with the wrong fucking guy on the wrong fucking night!

jesus, take a breath.

hey, look at me.

how far do you think you'd get?

you and me, we're in this together now.

look what you fucking made me do.

you're gonna do everything i say.

i feel better. you feel better?

you ever been to that corner mart, next to the... uh, coin-o-matic?

they still sell those slush puppies?

you alone?

i need an alibi. ideally, for the whole night.

sounds like we had fun.

i asked for extra pickles, and they give me two? so what, a normal amount of pickles is one? makes no goddamn sense.

the smart play here is to kill you and stuff you in the trunk with stinky, be done with both of youse.

if you step out of line just once, i swear to god, I'll gut you like a fսcking fish. do you understand?

we ain't got a lot of time.

we all got our own vices.

nine times out of ten, these top-tier guys wanna meet face-to-face to feel big, so i make myself small, they feel better about themselves, and i get to go back to work.

i'm messing with you.

maybe look for your sense of humor. it's gotta be here somewhere.

so, uh, we got something to celebrate, or what?

this is my operation, you can't just shut it down.

there's blood in the water, everyone knows it.

the last thing we need is a god damn gang war!

you will do as you're told.

you're free to leave.

at the end of the day, this is all about money, right?

it's good to see you.

you've really moved up in the world, haven't you?

we're long overdue for a catch-up, you and me.

let's get a bite to eat.

my father used to bring me here when i was a kid. he paid me to keep my elbows off the table.

you think they're wondering if it's really me?

what did the gazette call me?

if only i'd been a dutiful daughter.

are you nervous?

i'd hate for you to feel nervous around me.

despite what you might think, i don't blame you.

how do you know about his plan, and why on earth would you pitch it as your own?

he's keeping us both in the dark, and i don't know why.

he's got a penchant for drops. and booze and gambling. i'm pretty sure he's got a sеx thing, too.

i was actually drowning my sorrows with my lady friend last night.

i doubt anything will turn up, but it's worth a shot.

i'm probably just being crazy.

thanks for lunch, i'll get the next one.

you know. people underestimate you, but not me.

i've always known you were capable of more.

scan the code. see gotham's true face.

get the fuck outta here.

i ain't never taken anyone here before.

what're you doing here?

what do you mean what am i doing here? i came to see you.

i got you something. come here.

what did you do?

wait. was i expecting you?

we're gonna leave town for a while.

someone's here.

will you tell me first what i did to lose your respect?

it ain't safe for you here. you understand?

why'd you shoot him?

now, can we go please?

it was impulsive. it was stupid. is that what you wanna hear?

jesus, i'm trying to take care of you.

i can't risk it.

i can't risk you.

look at me.

don't you see, dear? what you did wasn't impulsive. it was instinctual.

you're so close now to having everything you ever wanted, everything you deserve.

this city is meant to be yours, sweetheart.

i've been where you are.

they don't even know what they got, 'cause they always had it.

i wanna offer my services to you and your family.

oh, you wanna throw stones?

from where i sit, and where you sit, i don't think you're in a position not to hear me out.

i could give you everything you need.

revenge don't come easy.

he was a dirty rat.

he played us both for fools.

but he's dead, and i'm here now, and i'm offering you the opportunity of a lifetime.

i know a lot more than people think.

you and me, we can tear down their fսcking empire from the inside out.

what is it you're really after?

i know who you are. i know what you are.

i don't work with people whose loyalty is for sale.

you think i forgot all the times you schmoozed me and my boys just to turn around and fսck us?

look, i can see you're upset. trust takes time. but this ain't bullshit.

it's good seeing you. you look good.

it's a terrible feeling, isn't it?

i just wonder how you see me.

that's what you wanted, right?

you are so good at talking your way out of things.

it's just you and me now, okay?

am i crazy?

tell me that i'm too emotional, and that i have an overactive imagination, and that i shouldn't take things so personally.

what the fuck is this?

you did good today.

didn't we agree the head alone would be the most poetic, and the pinky, the cherry on top?

yeah. at least (blank) got the message.

from here on out, there's no more playing it safe.

i'm gonna run this goddamn city.

#memes.

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builtbykittie · 8 months ago

Text

Dirty secrets

S.f.k x f!reader

summary: a movie night with your best friend takes a drastic turn after walking in on his insufferable roommate.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, enemies to lovers-ish, SMUT, mentions of masturbation, fingering, slapping, overstimulation, oral(m & f rec), unprotected sex (you know better), sam is kind of an asshole, multiple orgasms, choking if you squint

A/N: once again not edited because I'm lazy... Sorry for any mistakes!! Enjoy!

"Heyy beautiful!" Danny smiles, holding the front door open with a wide grin.

"Hi Daniel," you grin, holding out your arms for a hug. You have to admit, you're excited to finally get to spend time with him at his place. You've purposefully avoided going to Danny's house ever since he and Sam moved in together, so most of the time you'd be at bars or parties.

Sam had gone through a breakup not very long ago, he didn't want to stay at his house and moved out. At first, it was just until he got over her and found a new place, but he gets over girls questionably quick and it doesn't seem that he's moving out any time soon. At least not until he moves on to the next girl.

The second you saw that Sam's car was missing from the driveway, you sat up in your seat. You hoped that Sam might've taken off once Danny told him you'd be over. The thought of him being so petty that he leaves makes you giggle, until you remember you'd do the exact same. Is it childish? Absolutely. But maybe you're allowed to be not so mature for once.

But your hopes are crushed as Danny leads you into the house.

"I know you and Sam... aren't the greatest friends," he pauses "but he's at the store getting food. He'll be back sometime soon."

You stop in your tracks, all color draining from your face. "What?" is all you can get out.

After a moment, you finally collect your words. "Danny I thought it was gonna be just us?" You try your best to seem calm and act mature, but the red tint covering your entire body tells otherwise.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. If I had told you any sooner you wouldn't have come," Danny says, further fueling the fire that is your temper.

He can tell you're about to say something and stops you. "Sam was supposed to be out but after I told him what was going on he got defensive and insisted on staying here," Danny shrugs, looking defeated. You can tell they got in a little argument over this and you decide not to go too hard on him, even though he failed to tell you you'd be hanging out with your sworn enemy. The man at the core of all your arguments.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I thought it was gonna be just us. I wish it was," he offers you a smile, but it doesn't help. It makes no sense. Why would Sam of all people want to stick around? To torment you? To show you that this is also his house and he's allowed to be around? He does help Danny pay, after all.

It takes about half an hour of scrolling through streaming sites and saying no to every suggestion to finally decide on a movie. Sam still hasn't returned.

The two of you sit around for another thirty minutes waiting for his return, but it doesn't come. Maybe he really did take off. "Let's just start the movie," Danny finally suggests, you didn't want to say it in case he'd take it as you being upset over Sam, which you are.

You grab a blanket, bringing your feet to your side and cuddling up to his arm. The movie starts, and about ten minutes pass until Sam is finally walking through the door. The second you see him you roll your eyes, already blocking out whatever dumb excuse he has for his tardiness.

But he doesn't say anything, just walking over to the opposite side of the room from you and dropping the bag of food on the coffee table. "Jesus, took you long enough," Danny pauses the movie. "We started the movie, hope you don't mind.

"I do, actually," Sam says as a matter of fact. You try your best not to just get up and walk out. Or scoff at him. Or let your emotions get the best of you.

Danny just looks at you, silently asking if it's okay to rewind. "I don't care. It's only ten minutes," you say rather bitterly, deciding to avoid as much conflict as possible.

Oh, but that stupid face of Sam's drives you crazy. He's got a smug smile playing on his lips, looking right at you. Heaven only knows how badly you want to get up and slap him right in his dumb, pretty little face.

Something about Sam is he thinks that because he's attractive that he can be an asshole. Because he's attractive, life is 10x easier. Getting a girlfriend is incredibly easy, everyone is nice to him, and he always gets his way.

He never really did anything to you, besides being an asshole. You just hated his pretty privilege, attitude, and presence. Something about him just being around puts you in a bad mood. Drove you crazy. The sight of him. The smell of his cologne. The sound of his voice.

And maybe you were attracted to him. Maybe that's what made you hate him the most.

You tried to ignore him. To enjoy the movie, but you just couldn't. Sam's presence is all too distracting. Danny attempts to break the tension by commenting on the movie but that fails miserably, perhaps even making it worse at points.

Finally, Sam gets up and storms off to his room, his cheeks bright pink. "Jesus Christ," Danny sighs, stretching his arms out. You'd be a lot happier if he hadn't left at the last couple of minutes.

"Hey, Danny can I stay here tonight? It's pretty late and I don't wanna drive home half asleep," you yawn, sitting up and stretching.

"Yeah, I just gotta be somewhere in the morning so," he sits up slightly "you done with the movie?"

You feel bad because the entire movie you sat there annoyed and in a bad mood, but it was long and you're tired "Yeah." You stand up, folding the blanket you used "Should I just stay here on the couch or...?"

"Oh, no. There's that guest room by Sam's. If you go down that hall it's the one right across from his. Got its own bathroom, remember?" he yawns, turning the television off, followed by the lamps surrounding you. "Okay I'm going to bed," he mumbles, placing a hand on your head and ruffling up your hair.

"Goodnight, Danny," you place a quick friendly peck on his cheek and pad to the kitchen. You're practically dying of thirst, grabbing a glass from his cupboard and filling it with cold water.

You sit there silently on his counter and sip your water, listening to the faint rustle coming from Danny's room as he gets ready to go to sleep. Slipping off the counter, you gently discard the glass and find the hall that hosts the guest room. You were positive you knew which room it was, but now that you're standing at the entrance of the dark hallway, you have no idea which one it is.

There are three rooms. One on the right side, one on the left, and one at the end of the hall. It occurs to you that you have no idea which room is Sam's. You listen for any sign of life in the rooms, listening to which side it may be coming from. Very faintly, you hear a soft groan, but you can't decide which room it may have come from.

You hear it again, this time you're sure it was from the right, so you head for the left. Just to be sure, you stop and listen again, but you hear nothing, so you turn the knob and open the door.

Instead of finding an empty room with a cold bed, you find shirtless Sam sitting lazily in a sofa chair. His head is thrown back, hair clung to his neck, lips parted, and cheeks bright pink. It takes you a moment to process what you're seeing, even then you can't seem to look away. His hand swirls around his impossibly hard, angry cock as he mouths something you can't quite understand.

His head snaps over to you, movements slowing down but not stopping. It feels as if you're in a daze, your eyes fixated on his sweaty body and your mouth slightly open. "Get the fuck out," he blurts, his voice rough as if he'd been choking it back.

You practically run out, pulling the door but not fully closing it. You stop in the kitchen, trying to process what just happened. Trying to calm yourself down, you grab the same glass from earlier and pour yourself more water, cupping some in your hands and splashing your face with it.

You throw back the drink, chugging the cold liquid and giving yourself a brain freeze. For a while, you stand there fidgeting with the cold glass and staring at nothing. All you can think about is the way he looked, all red and sweaty. Your mind wanders to his cock, the way his hand glided along the incredible length.

You're startled out of your daze once you hear the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. You spin around to find Sam, still shirtless but with boxers on that fail to hide his bulge.

He angrily stares at you for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sam I- I'm sorry I didn't kn-" you start to stammer, but he cuts you off.

"Don't fucking tell anyone, Y/N," he takes a step closer to you. You frantically nod your head, finding yourself motionless against the island as Sam slowly moves closer and closer to you. "Say it. Tell me you won't tell anyone," Sam's voice slightly raises, but still quiet enough to not wake Daniel.

"I- I won't tell anyone, I promise," you practically whine, cowering away from him.

"How do I know you won't use that big fucking mouth of yours, hm?" Now his face is only inches from yours and although you're trying your best to avoid his face, he forces you to look at him.

For a moment, you both stand there, silently staring at each other. Your entire body is flushed, the tension is palpable, and the silence is loud.

One of his large hands finds the waistband of your shorts and dips past it, your breaths growing heavier as the rough tips of his fingers begin to trace your hip bone. "Sam.." you mutter, grabbing his wrist, but he slaps you away.

A throbbing sensation pounds at your core, a feeling you know all too well. You hate it. You hate it so much you just wanna slap him. You've fallen into his trap.

But at the same time, you need him. You need him so bad it's embarrassing.

His hand reaches your panties, and you can't help but grab onto the counter behind you, looking down at where his hand is in your shorts. "Look at me," he says roughly, the hand not teasing at your panties coming up to grab your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

A soft, whiney breath escapes your open mouth once his two middle fingers press against your needy clit. "Yeah, bitchy girl likes that, doesn't she?" Slowly, his fingers begin to massage your clit through your panties, looking into your eyes.

You can't nod, you can't let him know he's right. But even without flat-out telling him yes, he still knows. He can tell by the way your hips buck against his hand, the way you softly moan, and the way your mouth falls open at the smallest movement.

"Doesn't she?" His voice comes out rough, startling you. His finger hooks under the side of your panties. "If you say no, I'll let you go to bed," he slowly moves the fabric to the side. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear "if you say yes, I'll give you what you want. Spoil you. Give you something you don't deserve."

His voice sends a shiver up your spine, freezing you in place. He slots his fingers between your folds, just barely brushing against your clit, eliciting an embarrassing whine. He has his answer. He knows. He just wants to hear it.

"Sam," you start with the intention to protest, but quickly realize it's no good once he circles your entrance with his middle finger. "Oh fuck," you struggle to keep your voice a whisper.

It takes you a moment to collect your words and put them into a proper sentence. "Yes," you start, but the tip of his finger just slightly slipping into your entrance interrupts you. It doesn't take long for you to realize that you're not gonna be able to get that sentence out, watching as a smirk grows on his stupid face and his eyes become unbelievably dark.

"Good girl," Sam purrs into your ear, leaning even closer and taking the shell of it between his teeth. That alone could make you whine, so when he shoves his two middle fingers into you, a cry flies past your lips.

His brows furrow and the hand not toying with you clamps over your mouth. His fingers curl harshly up into you before he slides the digits out of you and brings them up to his lips. That pounding at your core grows even worse as you watch him take the fingers into his mouth, licking up your juices and releasing them from his mouth with a pop.

The hand over your mouth moves to be prying your jaw open, shoving his fingers into your mouth. He closes your mouth around the digits, forcing you to taste the mix of your juices and his saliva and you start to gag on his fingers as he shoves them further and further into your mouth.

By the time he finally takes them out of your mouth, you're practically gasping for air, the tips of his fingers keep your tongue sticking out of your mouth. To your surprise, he leans in, his mouth incredibly close to yours for a moment before he sticks his tongue out and licks yours.

You suck in a loud gasp at the action, and you hate yourself for how much you enjoyed it. He hums, dropping his hands to the small of your back, licking along your jawline and sucking a the soft flesh into his mouth. "S- Sam," you whine, trying to push him away but to no avail.

"Don't do that," you push again, your brows knitting together. The last thing you want is to wake up with ugly purple splotches covering your neck. He simply huffs a laugh and you feel him smile against your skin before he takes the flesh between his teeth.

He lifts that same hand up back to your mouth and once again practically shoves his fingers down your throat. You let out a cry of surprise, your eyes growing comically large as you realize how loud it was.

Before you can even blink, Sam takes his fingers out of your mouth, raising his hand up and letting it come down against your cheek. You try to stifle the yelp that threatens to spill past your lips, but you're not very successful. The stinging sensation that follows hurts so good.

His wet fingers squeeze your cheeks and he leans in, his face mere centimeters from yours. "Y/N, you make one more noise, and I'm taping your mouth shut. Got it?" His dark, lust blown eyes stare so intensely into yours that you just want to curl up into a ball and shrink in size.

He lets go of your cheeks and you frantically nod your head. A smirk grows on his lips at your response, his hand slowly making it's way down your torso till it reaches the waistband of your shorts. He uses his thumb to pull the band, creating an opening for his fingers to meet your core.

His other hand comes back up to your mouth, and you whine against his palm at the pressure. Thank God for his hand, because the whimper that slips past your lips once his fingers reach your core could've easily woken anybody near. He's staring into your eyes, but his gaze narrows and his brows furrow in annoyance at every single squeak you fail to hide.

He spreads your arousal around your folds, bringing it up to your clit and drawing small circles over the needy bud. Your hand flies to his wrist, digging your nails into the soft flesh as his fingers speed up against your clit. Every time your eyes wander off or your eyelids start to flutter shut, he forces you to keep your eyes on him.

So many emotions rush through you. Anger. Annoyance. Lust. Frustration. Desire. He's driving you crazy, and he loves it. Every single whine you let out, every time you squeeze him, every time your knees threaten to buckle, puts a smile on his stupid smug face.

He hates you. You hate him. For some sick reason it intensifies your desire for him more than words could ever explain. And he'd be a complete and utter liar if he said he didn't feel the same.

You hate it so much you could cry, but at the same time you can't get enough. You couldn't be able to walk away if you wanted to. He's too alluring. His body is like a magnet.

Your eyes roll back into your head, involuntarily bucking your hips against his hand. Sam lets out a low chuckle at your reaction and presses against your clit. "Yeah, that's right. Feel my fingers. They feel good, huh little slut?" He comes down to your neck, biting the flesh as his fingers speed up against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You frantically nod your head, grinding against his fingers. Those skilled hands of his work deliciously over your poor sensitive clit and your whines against his hand grow louder. You don't know how much longer you can go before you're sent hurdling over the edge.

A pressure builds right below your belly button and its getting harder and harder to keep your voice down. Even muffled by his hand you're still embarrassingly loud. Your knees buckle and your thighs tremble, his fingers show no mercy for your bundle of nerves as he hums against your neck.

It's just his fingers, but they're so skilled. So incredibly experienced. You throw your head back, mumbling profanities against his hand, ultimately coming out inaudible. As your pleasure intensifies, so does his pace. So does his pressure against the sweet sensitive bud.

"Yeah that's it, cum for me doll," his fingers move from your clit and effortlessly slide into your entrance, flicking against a soft spot. His hand around your mouth forces your head up to look at him. Your eyes widen and you let out an incredibly loud whimper against his hand as that band of pleasure snaps.

"Such a good little whore," he comes down to whisper against your neck, and you feel his shoulders bounce. He's giggling. His fingers don't slow down, and his thumb starts to play with your clit.

You violently shake your head against his hand, your eyes wide as you fight against him. Despite your efforts, he doesn't stop. In fact, he speeds up. Your eyes prick with tears and you watch as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

The hand that was covering your mouth slowly slides down your body, stopping at your navel "take your shirt off." Your brows knit together and your eyes flick to the direction of Daniel's room, but you do as he says. Slowly, you lift the hem of your shirt, hooking your fingers under your bra as you go. Sam's eyes study every second. Every inch of your torso. He watches carefully as you lift the thin fabric over your head and it drops to the floor.

His hand is still toying with your cunt, the other starting to slowly pull down your shorts and panties. As your clothes go lower down your body, so do his kisses. His lips start at your belly button, then slowly move down till they're right at your slit.

Now you're completely exposed. Daniel could walk in at any second and see you and Sam like this. For some reason, the thought goes straight to your cunt, turning you on even more.

His breath is warm against your heat, fueling the fire inside of you. Suddenly, a yelp slips out of your mouth once his tongue finds your clit. His dark eyes angrily flick up to yours and you clamp your own hand over your mouth.

His tongue dances so delicately around your folds, tasting you as if you're the sweetest honey he's ever had. Your entire body shudders, the feeling of his sweet tongue over your overstimulated clit sends shocks of electricity through your body.

His fingers move in sync with his tongue, his other hand squeezing your thigh. Your thighs are trembling and shaking at an immense speed, your knees threatening to completely give out. You're already there. His fingers curl up into a sweet spot that makes your eyes roll. You've gotten over the overstimulation, now you're falling over the edge.

You let out a cry against your hand as your orgasm clouds your head for the second time in a row. Sam withdrawals his fingers from you just in time, because suddenly your legs give out from underneath you and you're collapsing in his lap.

He lets you sit there for just long enough to find your composure before he's forcing you both up. Once he's on his feet, he grabs your hair in a bundle and pulls you up to meet him.

A surprised whimper falls past your lips once he spins you around so that your back is flush to his chest. One arm wraps around your body at your bust, the other holds your ass firm against his body. "Feel that?" His low voice sends a shiver up your spine as he whispers into your ear. "Feel my cock against your pretty little ass?" He presses harder against you.

"This little problem," he growls "do you have any idea how annoying it is?" He wiggles his hips against you, and you feel that pounding return to your core. "Now you're gonna help me fix it. You're gonna take every inch of my cock like the little slut you are."

You don't try to hide the soft, breathy moan that falls past your lips at his words. Your entire body becomes flushed a deep red color, so intense to the point that it starts to give you a headache. Without warning, he's sweeping you off your feet and carrying you off to his room, your clothes still on the kitchen floor.

Everything happens in mere seconds. He's practically running to his room, sending the door flying open and throwing you on the bed. He eagerly climbs on top of you, marveling at your naked body. He leaves a trace of kisses down torso, sucking the skin of your hip into his mouth.

He gets up, frantically closing and locking the door. He turns back to you, sliding his boxers down his legs, his cock springing free. He tossed the fabric off from around his feet and takes himself in his hand. The sight drives you mad. His long, hard cock in his large hand. Just so eager to feel you. Begging for pleasure. You can see every vein, even from where you are. He's so turned on it's unbelievable.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on the flesh at the sight of him. His brows are furrowed as he stares at you, his large hand starting to slowly pump his length. It takes everything in you to not give in and touch yourself, the pounding at your core has become so incredibly unbearable just the slightest touch would break you.

Silently, he walks to you, his angry pink tip dripping with precum. "Sit up," he demands, still stroking himself at such a slow pace that it makes you wince. You do just as he says, not even bothering to think about how desperate you probably look.

Sam slowly crawls onto the bed, moving up so that his knees are on each side of your thighs and you're face to face with his cock. He doesn't even give a warning or anything before he grabs your hair in a bundle and forces your mouth onto him. You're just lucky he didn't force his entire length down your throat.

You quickly adjust to his thickness and start to glide your tongue along his cock, his hand guiding you. Sam lets out a breathy noise and his grip on your hair tightens once you start to speed up. "Fuck- that's it, Y/N," he mutters, feeling your mouth as you suck harder around his cock.

His hips start to buck forward, making his cock tickle the very back of your throat. You take him as far into your mouth as you possibly can, your eyes filling with tears at every thrust of his hips. You pull back, wrapping your hand around his cock, squeezing him tight as you start to lap at his slit. His head falls back and strings of profanities escape his plump pink lips, you know he won't last much longer like this.

The hand around his cock starts to stroke along his length, not once loosening your grip as you tease his angry tip. "Oh fuck-" he blurts, his voice rough and his hips jutting forward at the sensation. His hands tug harshly at your hair, and you use it as encouragement, every pull of your hair you reward, sucking harder or stroking faster.

It's almost humorous how fast you drive him to the edge, every profanity in the dictionary is flying past his lips and he's bringing you to tears with how hard he's pulling your hair. Suddenly, he forces your hand off of him and grasps the back of your head, practically shoving his cock down your throat. He thrusts once, and that's all it takes for his hot release to spurt into the back of your throat.

For a few moments, he keeps you there, forcing you to swallow every last drop of him. "Shit-" he speaks, out of breath. "Where'd you learn that?" He removes himself from you, but he doesn't give you enough time to answer before he's forcing you around onto your stomach. His calloused fingertips grab at the supple flesh at the back of your thighs, forcing your legs open.

A loud, surprised moan escapes your lips as his fingers just barely touch your cunt. He collects your arousal on his fingertips, spreading it around your core. "Jesus Christ," he groans "you're so fucking wet." The pillows stifle the moans and whimpers that you make at the slight touch.

"So fucking horny," His fingers start to massage your clit, but before you can even begin to enjoy it, he moves his hand to slap your ass, eliciting a loud yelp. "So needy. Wouldn't wanna have to make you beg for it, would I?" he comes down, and you gasp as he starts to place open mouth kisses to your ass, his tongue lapping at the red skin.

"Please, Sam," you practically cry into the sheets, clawing the fabric. He simply just snickers at your plead, continuing to kiss everywhere but the area you need him to touch the most.

"Sam," you whine, but he's just ignoring you. "Sam Kiszka I swear to fucking god," you say harshly, moving your head so that he can hear you clearly. You feel him huff a laugh against your inner thigh, "fine. If you want it so bad." You let out a sigh, a little squeak following it once his tongue reaches your core.

He circles your entrance with his tongue, the very tip of it prodding you. He repeats this until you're a sweaty mess, your hair clung to your neck, your thighs shaking from trying to create any sort of friction, and your hands grasping onto the sheets for dear life. You can't form a sentence, every word you try to speak just comes out as a squeaky whimper and you can tell he's enjoying this 10x more than you.

You let out a squeaky sigh once he pulls back, and he brings his cock to your entrance. He slides his tip through your core, groaning as he feels the wetness of your folds around him. Pathetic moans roll off your tongue and you try to clamp your thighs around his lower body, but he slaps the back of your thigh and pries your legs apart.

A loud, whiney cry rips through your chest as he sinks into you, and the sting of his cock stretching you out without warning robs you of any self respect you had left. "Oh- fuck," Sam groans, bottoming out inside you and staying there for a moment. You claw at the sheets, a yelp escaping your mouth once he starts to mercilessly thrust into you.

One deep and intoxicating thrust, then another, then another until he's worked up the perfect pace that drives you mad. "Oh Sam- fuck," you cry, arching your back into the bed. "Shit, Y/N," Sam mutters, having to practically rip your hands off the sheets to hold them behind your back.

You cry his name at a particularly sharp thrust, and curse yourself for how much you're enjoying it. He feels too good, you hate it. You hate the fact that you're just like every other girl he's hooked up with. But most of all, you hate the fact that you denied him for so long. Forced down those dirty thoughts that would surface in your mind about him. "Yeah, feels good doesn't it, little slut?" He punctuates his words with sharp movements.

You fail at trying to form a sentence. Every time you open your mouth, a pathetic moan falls past your swollen red lips. You hear him snicker behind you, and the hand not firmly holding your hands behind your back moves to your ass. He grabs at the supple flesh, kneading it in his hands as he fucks his anger out on you.

"yes," you cry out "so fucking good, Sam." You know Daniel can absolutely hear, but you're past the point of caring. "I've seen the way you look at me. You try to act like you don't touch yourself thinking of me but really, you're just as bad as the rest of them. Just dying to let me use you like the little whore you know you are." Sam starts to go even deeper, as if that was even possible, his tip is all but brushing against your cervix. And oh how he's so right.

"holy fucking-" you're on the verge of screaming, tears pricking your waterline once again. "God, who would've known you're so filthy?" You hear the grin in his voice, and his hand grasps your ass so hard you're sure you'll wake up to bruises. "I mean, really. Letting me use you like this. Cumming all over my hands in the kitchen," He breathes, and you can tell he's struggling to keep a steady voice and form coherent sentences of his own.

"You know, Daniel could've walked in at any time. Saw you acting like the little fucking whore you are for me," he sends a sharp thrust into you, hitting a part of you that you didn't even know someone could reach. "But I bet that just turned you on even more, huh? The thought of being so exposed in there just made you cum so hard, didn't it?" With every single word comes a rough movement of his hips, and you can't see him, but you know theres a stupid smirk playing on his face.

"Sam I- I'm gonna," you whine, clawing at his wrist. "Yeah? Little slut gonna cum?" He snickers, his pace slowing down, his thrusts becoming slower as he sinks completely into to, hitting every sweet spot known to woman kind. "Yes. Yes yes," you bite the sheets, your nails still digging into his wrists.

Your cries and moans grow unbelievably loud, intensifying with each movement. "That's it, baby, cum for me," Sam grabs your hips, lifting them up off the bed so that your ass is in the air. With one final thrust, you're coming undone. Completely unraveling beneath him. "Fuck fuck fuck," you moan, burning white flames of pleasure dancing viciously around your tummy.

Sam almost immediately pulls out, your juices dripping down your sweaty thigh. He drops your hips and you fall back down on the bed, softly moaning and whimpering as you come down from the high.

A surprised whimper slips past your lips once he grabs you by your waist and flips you around "don't think for a second that I'm done with you." He grabs you by your waist, picking you up and throwing you against the arm rest of the sofa chair you walked in on him in.

It's as if you regained consciousness because right before you hit the furniture, you brace your arms against the other side of the sofa, catching yourself. "Sam what are you-" you start, but he cuts you off. "I'm gonna make you cum as many times as I want, sweetheart," he grabs his cock, pumping slowly a few times.

"Sam I don't know if I can.." you whine, but this just makes him snicker. He ignores you, and you yelp once he thrusts into you. He doesn't wait. Doesn't give you a moment, he just starts fucking into you. He sets an intoxicating pace almost immediately, you're completely drunk off of his cock.

You repeat his name over and over like a mantra, your moans growing louder and louder with each thrust. His cock rams into you, and Sam's making sure he's going as deep into you as he possibly can. "Shit. You're so fucking-" Sam groans, but he doesn't finish his sentence. He bends over, his chin resting against your bare back and he takes the sweaty flesh between his teeth.

You claw the fabric of the sofa, the lewd sounds of your skin snapping together and your sexes mixing fill the humid air, not to mention the volume of which you're screaming his name. "So fucking dirty," he speaks breathlessly between thrusts "taking my cock like such a good girl."

He stands up again, and your forehead practically slams against the furniture. "Oh fuck me-" you cry, pushing yourself back onto his cock with shaky legs. "But you're so fucking far from that. You're the filthiest little bitch I've ever been with," he roughly thrusts into you after every single word, it's unbelievable how much stamina this man has.

"At least I know how to shut you up now," His hand wraps around your body till it finds your dripping cunt, and elicits a loud yelp once his fingers start to dance over your swollen, oversensitive cit.

"Y'know, I oughta spank you," he groans "dirty little slut." Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the feeling of his skilled fingers working your clit mixed with his cock burying itself deep into your cunt over and over drives you right to the edge. If its even possible, the roaring fire in your tummy intensifies even more.

That same fire burns at the coil of pleasure pulled tightly until it snaps in two, white electricity flowing through your limbs. Despite the fact that every inch of you is trembling and you're overstimulated to the point of tears, you still clamp around his cock, determined to beat him.

"The fuck are you doing?" He slaps your ass and pulls out in one quick motion. Your body goes limp and suddenly, you lose your train of thought. Your words fail you "I- I..." Sam stops you, grabbing you by your torso and flipping you around. "I'll cum when i decide it's time," he speaks lowly, taking your lips in a sloppy, humid kiss before dropping you into the seat.

He hasn't given you any time to cool off, he's already staring down at you with those eyes and stroking his length. "Sam I-" you stutter "Sam I don't know if I can. do another one." You knew you weren't getting out of this one, but the amused look on his face pisses you off.

"It's not that I don't want it I just-" you say rather bitterly, cutting yourself off once you become conscious of the fact that you're almost completely out of breath. "Don't worry, darling. I'll be more gentle this time," he smirks.

You take a deep breath and nod, bringing your legs up to rest on each side of the sofa. His eyes widen at your glistening core, but soon relax as a grin starts to grow on his face. He leans down, breathing heavily on your neck and taking your earlobe in between his teeth. "I still hate your fucking guts," he growls, sending a shiver up your spine.

You let out a breath at the words and reach down to grab his cock, and you start to swirl your hand around his hard length. He nips at your ear again before slapping your hand away, grabbing his cock and dragging it through your soaked folds.

Your head falls back and you grab his arm as his tip starts to tease your clit. "Sam.. please," you whine, arching your back off the arch. He moves himself to like up with your entrance, his tip just barely sinking in. Just that alone elicits whiney moans from you, so when he sinks fully into you a loud cry flies past your lips.

He almost pulls completely out before thrusting back into you, the sensation making your eyes roll back into your head. "This slutty little pussy feels so.." Sam breathes, setting the perfect rhythm. Your hands slowly snake up his body, the tips of your fingers reaching his collarbones, then moving up to the base of his neck.

His deep, slow thrusts are addictive and perfect, but you quickly realize they aren't gonna cut it. You crave more. You need more. Gentle Sam can wait for another time. "Sam... Harder."

Your hands gently wrap around his neck, squeezing slightly as his pace starts to pick up. So much for being gentle. Sam's fingers find your clit, ever so slightly putting pressure on the sensitive bud. "Look at you. Asking for more after complaining about having to fuck me again," Sam purrs, rolling his hips up into you.

"Oh fuck- right there Sam," you mewl. Every inch of your body is trembling and within minutes you're riding the edge of euphoria. "How does it feel, baby?" Sam finds a particularly sensitive spot that elicits the loudest moans and babies it, and his hand that's toying with your clit speeds up. "So fucking good," you whine, your back fully arched off the sofa.

Your moans and cries and mewls grow louder, you're not gonna last much longer. Sam's free hand presses down on your lower tummy, intensifying your pleasure. "Is my little slut close? You gonna cum, baby?" His narrow eyes staring deeply into yours.

"Fuck Sam im-" a guttural moan ripping through your chest cuts you off, and suddenly your vision blurs, your mind fogs, and burning hot white flames of pleasure flow through your limbs. "Oh shit- fuck," Sam grunts, and within seconds his hot release is spurting inside you. Warm ropes of ivory release paint your insides, the feeling making you roll your eyes back into your skull.

His thrusts and fingers slow down but don't stop, helping both you and him ride out the high. Your hands release his neck and drop to your side, the two of you stay just how you are for a while, the sounds of your heavy breathing and occasional whimpers filling the humid air.

"You know. I'm not the little slut you think I am," you roll your eyes. "Well, you certainly fuck like one. I mean, look at you," he looks down at you, and you hate to admit it but you do look filthy. Your legs are as far open as they can go and his cock is covered in your release as he slowly pulls out, juices dripping down your ass.

Your cheeks go a bright shade of red and you look down at the area "Whatever." His fingers collect the release, bringing it up to your mouth and once again forcing you to taste both yourself and him. You moan against his fingers at the taste, a smirk growing on his lips.

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop before he licks up your saliva and the rest of the juices. Sam walks off and you hear his feet pad across the kitchen, coming back with your clothes. He drops them on the floor, walking right past you to the bathroom.

He stops, realizing you're not following him "You wanna clean up or what? C'mon."

#greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet imagine #greta van smut #gvf smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka smut #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sfk

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onismdaydream · 9 months ago

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sweet like candy (ft. satoru gojo)

tags: mdni. 18+. afab reader. slight sub gojo. handjob. slight bondage (restricted wrists). pet names. makeshift gag (underwear). reader is kinda mean. not proofread.

notes: happy valentine's day?? idk this was a dumb thought that got longer than i expected! i also didnt feel like going through and editing lol hope you like it anyways :3 reblogs/comments are very much appreciated!

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

it's funny, really, how quickly satoru gojo folds underneath you.

he loves to be an asshole, thrives on the attention it gets him. he's never been one to keep his mouth shut and everyone knows it. so sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.

he doesn't mind, not one bit, when you make him sit on a chair and bind his wrists behind the back. it's not the best knot but it'll suffice — especially if he knows what's good for him. there's that smug little smirk that often makes its home on satoru's pretty face.

"what's this, angel? do i get a prize?" still so cocky... you'll have to fix that. your hands gently slide up his abdomen, starting from his firm stomach and resting at his pecs. his shirt rises with the movement and you can feel the way his body tenses slightly as his breath hitches. if it was anyone else, they might not have noticed it, but you did. despite the way he parades around, he's all bark and no bite. he crumbles as soon as you so much as lay a finger on him.

you hum softly, a dismissive sound. "something like that." sliding his shirt the rest on the way up so it sits above his collarbone, your fingers graze over his sensitive nipples, already beginning to harden from the cool air and your touch.

"should've stripped me first," satoru breathes out a chuckle. "gonna be hard to do when i'm tied up."

you don't respond, instead you keep your gaze on his exposed skin. there's faint red scratches that contrast nicely with his pale complexion — a reminder of the previous night. your nails had dug into his chest as you rode him, little crescent moons that morphed into long and narrow wounds when satoru desperately bucked his hips further into you.

"c'mon, baby," the white haired sorcerer looks up at you with that ridiculously pretty smile, something akin to mischief sparkling in his equally ridiculously pretty eyes. "don't make me wait."

you flatten your hands on his chest, squeezing the firm muscles of his pecs. if gojo was watching your expression, he might've kept his mouth shut.

"like what you see?"

"i'd like it better if it was quieter," you retort, your gaze flicking up and catching his own. satoru's face falters for a moment — his eyes widening and smile dropping — from the unexpected words, but he quickly recovers. he loved playing this game as much as you did.

"aw, don't be like that. you know you love me." that shit-eating grin makes its way to his lips, his perfect teeth catching the low light of the room.

one of your hands reaches down, palming at the bulge in his sweatpants, the other one resting on his waist. he was half hard already. though satoru's pretty much always hard at a moment's notice when it came to you. a low and quiet groan leaves the back of his throat, your palm putting much appreciated pressure on him. "mm, i suppose i do."

even with the layer of fabric in between his cock and your hand, you could feel it kick and throb as you touched him, soft noises of pleasuring slipping past his lips.

"yeahhh," satoru sighs, his head falling back as you pull him out and finally get your hands on him. "just like that, baby."

you knew satoru like no other, knew him like the back of your own hand. he didn't have to guide you on what to do because you were already doing it. drooling on his cock and mixing your saliva with his precum for makeshift lube to make the glide of your fist even better, stroking him nice and slow, using just the right amount of pressure so that it teeters on painful — you picked these things up naturally as you spent more and more time with gojo.

but that meant that he was constantly babbling, too. equal amounts of praise and curses, satoru could never shut his mouth.

"fuuuck, angel, no one's as good as you. always feels so fuckin' good." his hips buck up when your thumb teases over his slit, smearing more of his pearly precum around his sensitive tip.

he's vaguely aware of when you slip your other hand underneath your skirt, but he's too caught up in the feeling of your hot tongue licking up the underside of his shaft, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. "shit, baby."

too caught up to realize that you're not touching yourself, instead, you're sliding off your underwear. and the next time he opens his mouth, you take the opportunity to shove them on his tongue. gojo's eyes shoot open, piercing blue focusing on your smirking face.

"you talk too much," you say simply, pushing the soft panties further in his mouth, making him gag, the sound muffled. not giving him time to adjust, your pace on his cock picks up, your strokes becoming tougher and sloppier.

satoru whines around the fabric, his own drool pooling at the corners of his lips as he's forced to taste and smell you. it's intoxicating, really. he should feel dirty and gross as your used panties sit on top of his tongue, but he doesn't. it's almost as if his head is buried in your cunt, the sweet and distinct arousal that is undeniably you suffocating his senses. not quite as strong and certainly not as good as actually having his head between your thighs, but almost.

he can feel the knot in his stomach getting tighter, your lips around his tip and hands on his shaft working him closer and closer to the edge, until he finally falls.

you pull away from his cock, letting the ropes of cum hit against his flexing stomach, mixing with the faint trail of white hair. his cock kicks as you work him through his orgasm, a stifled cry emanating from the sorcerer.

your panties are absolutely and thoroughly soaked when you remove them from satoru's mouth. he opens and closes his jaw a few times, stretching it out and regaining feeling in the area.

"could'a told me to stop talking," he grumbles, though his lips quirk up just the slightest amount. he's not ready to admit it — yet, at least — but he enjoyed that a lot more than he thought.

you laugh softly, a stark contrast to how you were just mere moments ago. "where's the fun in that, toru?"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #perce.doc #.jjkai

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whoopsyeahokay · 5 months ago

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Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

(AN: this'll be a multiple-oneshots deal—out of order—with regular additions until it's complete.)

🛎️prompt - Wally Clark NSFW alphabet.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. grey!Wally Clark. cheating. voyeurism. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - B

B is for bad life choices, and, shit, you're one of them.

The head cheerleader's step-sister, the principal's daughter; a billboard sign in bold print bad bad bad idea wrapped in daisy dukes and a sheer, breezy kimono.

You're cute and kind and oh-so hospitable, doing the job your mama would do if she and your step-dad were in town. Keeping snacks on the table and the ice in the coolers filled. Innocent eyes and friendly touches, giggling to dumb jokes told by the Inner Circle that Wally doubts you really find funny.

That is until you clock how Wally looks at you. Caught mid-imaginary-fuck as he tears your clothes off with his eyes. Right there. In front of birthday-girl Janet at her own pool party. Everyone gathered in the kitchen for cake.

As soon as you know, Wally sees your demeanor shift and suddenly you're looking back at him, and fuck don't you blush so nicely? Cheeks such a sweet shade of pink, eyes down, lip caught at the corner between your teeth.

Makes Wally want to bite, hold, mine. To pin you down by the throat, keep you under him always.

Two hours later, Wally's the last one floating in the pool, sipping diet coke through a straw with his sunglasses on so no one can tell where he's looking. Janet dries on a lawn chair nearby; the other guests are either gone or on their way out.

Wally knows your bedroom overlooks the backyard. The room across the hall from Janet's, door always closed when Wally's over to play Boyfriend. Now, the curtains are pushed wide open and you're stepping into frame.

Precious little thing. Don't even realize the difference, the evening light dim enough to make it seem like the curtains are exactly how you always leave them.

Wally smirks around his straw.

Back to the window, you drop your towel and Wally almost groans out loud. He sinks his pelvis into the water. An awkward seat in the hole of the inflatable donut, but necessary to hide the rising tent in his swim trunks. He dips a hand beneath the surface, hidden, quiet, and squeezes himself loosely through the material.

You lift one leg at a time to dry them, foot propped on your desk chair, wet hair sticking to your back, rivulets of water making tracks on your skin that Wally wants to follow with his tongue.

So beautiful and just for him.

There's too much he wants to do, not enough time to imagine it all as you move through the motions of your post-shower routine. Smoothing cream into your arms, your shoulders, across your chest. Arms moving in a way that suggests you're massaging those perfect little tits. The thought shoots fire through Wally's veins.

"Such a good girl for me, baby," He whispers, tightening his hand over the base of his cock to keep himself in check. Janet stirs, raises her head and looks at him, a question on her face. He lifts his drink, "I said, you doing okay, baby?"

She scoffs, rolls her eyes. Hides behind her phone to scroll through what Wally knows is her camera roll. Posting heavily edited pictures to Insta and perfectly-angled clips to tiktok that he'll have to respond to later with the words and emojis Janet will type herself. Force him to agree to before she commands him to press send.

But that's a Future Wally problem.

When Wally looks back to your window, you're half dressed. Teensy white pajama shorts that cling to the swell of your ass. And what Wally wouldn't give to eat you out through them, barely-there-tease that they are. Get you to soak the fabric translucent before he humps himself to the edge against the impression of your cunt.

Soon, he decides, because he isn't good at playing the long game. Impatient. Entitled. And you're too damn delicious not to eat, and Wally has always sucked at delayed gratification.

Finally, you turn around and notice the curtains, notice Wally through the curtains, openly staring with a Cheshire grin. He rocks his hips up, correcting his position in the donut, happy to show you exactly what he thought of the show.

He lowers his sunglasses just enough to send you a wink that you respond to by dropping to the floor. Seconds later the curtains are yanked closed.

Later, Wally texts you, number lifted from Janet's phone while she showers off the chlorine and Wally lounges on her bed.

Gonna let me help next time? xx

i don't think it's a good idea

Wally licks his lips, eyes molten, reading the words because, fuck no, it's a cheap, shitty, terrible idea.

But you didn't say no and that's enough for Wally to tiptoe across the hall when Janet's asleep—Ambien heavy—and give you a taste of how good Wally can make you feel.

And fuck, baby, Wally moans as he buries his face between your legs, smelling you through your teeny-tiny shorts, this is the best idea he's ever had.

🧿___________________________

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #Alphabet Soup #prompt fill #alphabet challenge #ABC challenge

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icaruskey · 1 year ago

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Fuck artist statements let's have some time loop and dangerous Moon @pillowspace

(coming back to this two days later and I'm still using this to avoid editing my artist statement rip)

Uh let's see, there's death again. This time it's not so explicitly written out but it's also suicide-ish so.

You've learned the hard way that Moon is dangerous.

It's hard to explain, the disconnect you had before. Maybe it's because the first time you rarely saw him, the generators in the daycare keeping him away and you, the obedient, oblivious worker, keeping to your schedule until the very end.

You had thought that first time maybe you'd died from the smoke. You'd been rather dumb, in hindsight, racing towards the fire when you realized the pizzaplex was on fire, looking for the attendant. They're an animatronic, so they theoretically would be fine right? Maybe the fabric of their costume would burn, but how hot would a fire have to be to melt steel?

Sometimes, when you struggle to sleep, you find yourself wondering about the other loops. Did you leave these timelines and move onto a new one, like a snake shedding its skin? Were there other yous left lying on a cold metal table in a cold tiled room for your family to identify? Did it hurt to die and your mind was just preventing you from remembering?

They're not thoughts you like very much, as you would start to ache like your body was remembering the ways you died. Warm metal fingers curling around your throat.

You sleep with the hall light on now, when those thoughts come up.

Currently though, you stand at the edge of a pool of light left by a lone pendant swinging overhead. You can see the red LED dots of Moon's eyes as he crouches just out of sight, watching you, and your throat starts to hurt.

"Can't we talk?" you plead, but other than the soft jingle of bells, there's no reply. You continue anyway, willing yourself to see through the darkness. "You weren't like this when we met Moon." That first time, times, before something in him snaps. "What happens to you? What changes?"

"Quiet now." Moon's hand grabs at the tightly knitted texture of your sweater, pulling the thick wool loose as you jerk back in shock. Your eyes dart to the red dots in the distance. Oh, oh, oh no, you'd been watching some sort of motion sensor or whatever, not Moon.

Your throat hurts from an unvoiced scream. You grab at your sleeve, feeling the ruined wool. Moon lingers at the edge of the light, constantly moving, squatting so he's almost shorter than you, swaying. It's silly, how he moves, and it almost makes you smile.

"I don't want to be quiet Moon. I want to help you." You wish you could read the animatronics better, but Moon had even less expressiveness than his daytime counterpart, and when he was like this, you weren't sure there really was anything to read at all. "I'm starting to think maybe that's why I'm still here."

"Still here because you're a rulebreaker and need to go to sleep." You heard once that Moon used to play the villain at the theater. As he hisses out words that by any reasonable measure should not be hissable, you can see why. Worse though, is him returning into the darkness, quite literally rolling away in a backflip. You can't see him, and you ignore those red dots because that's not Moon dammit.

"I definitely need a nap," you agree, scanning the room, trying to make out where Moon's bells are. "But I don't think you'll actually put me to sleep." Pause. "Moon? The kids in those posters. A couple of them were at the daycare. What... what did you do to them?"

"They were naughty and had to be punished."

There's a creaking overhead and you look up in time to see the pendant swing widely before you jump out of the way, the metal and glass structure crashing to the ground as the light went out with a pop. You don't quite make the tuck and roll like you'd hoped, and you sit up slowly, nursing your ankle as you try to stand and immediately drop down again. A sprain, probably. But there was no way you could run right now.

You pat your pockets down instead, fumbling for your phone, a lighter, some source of light, but a hand grabs the back of your shirt and you're hoisted in the air, unable to wiggle free from both the speed and the clumps of hair trapped in Moon's grip. If you move your head, it feels like you're being scalped. You kick out in vain, dropping your phone to grab at Moon's arm. "Moon! Let go!"

"No." He shakes you, and that hurts as hair is ripped out and your head flops uselessly back and forth. You grab at his arm again as he begins to move, almost dancing through the air. You'd been nearish the atrium before, but now he's taking you deeper inside. "She says you need to be punished."

"She?" You stop struggling. This is new. "Who is she?" But Moon doesn't answer. His grip tightens against your back and you find yourself staring up at him.

Moon is harder to read than Sun, and definitely harder to read than the other, more expressive glamrocks. But even in the dark, you could swear that right now he's... sad? Resigned?

Maybe he didn't want to do this either. You look down. The fall is a good thirty, maybe forty feet. Okay. "I know you don't want to do this Moon," you say softly, and he doesn't look at you. "That's okay. I'll figure this out next time."

"Wha--"

You wiggle free of your sweater to fall, staring up at Moon as he stares down at you, immobilized in shock. That's the last thing you see before your back hits a bannister, and there's fireworks in your mind and then blackness.

The quiet screech of your phone's alarm wakes you from sleep. You're curled up like some sort of hibernating bear, twisted in the blankets piled on your bed. One hand finds your phone and silences it. You know where you're at and when. Your back and foot throb when you try to remember why. You remember talking to Moon.

There's a she involved now. Who is she? Maybe she was the key to solving the loops.

You don't remember falling, just not wanting to put Moon through anymore pain. Maybe this would be the loop to end it, to break all of you free. You sure hope so.

But for now, you're going to spend a few more minutes curled up and safe, just until you're ready to face the day.

#time loop au #okay I guess I'll actually do grad school work now #I did some light editing since I was working on this originally friday and the internet went out #i thought it got deleted entirely!

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melancholy-of-nadia · 1 year ago

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love u lately (m) #1 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately chapter title: #1 - lavender haze pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: In the midst of your college journey, life takes an unexpected turn when you find yourself moving into a "pseudo frat" house with your childhood best friends Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin. The college experience you envisioned seems promising, but as Namjoon and Jimin get caught up in flings, their focus shifts away from you, Yoongi, and everyone else in the house. The strong bond you once shared starts to feel strained, leaving you to question your feelings and changing dynamics. Though, the haze of a single night at a party sets off a chain reaction of emotions that leaves you grappling with a question you never thought you'd ask—could you be in love with all three of them? warnings: pwp, swearing, making out, subtle body worship, penetration, cunnilingus, CONSENSUAL!! sex, nipple play, breast play, overstimulation, mutual orgasm, touch of aftercare, frustration bc guys are dumb sometimes note: thank u to @daegudrama (as always) for beta reading and editing my fics. much appreiciated. this is the first fic series i have written in 10 years (i used to be in the anime/pokemon fandoms lol) so i apologized if it isn't that great, but i will keep improving! note 2: this is also for the yoonminjoon stans !! such an underrated subunit! total word count: 8.3k drop date: august 29th, 2023, 1:00pm pst cross posted on AO3 here | Series Masterlist | #2 →

October 4 (Thursday)

The morning sun streams through the blinds, gently coaxing you awake. You catch the aroma of sizzling bacon wafting from the kitchen as you continue to fight the urge to sleep in longer.

With a quick stride, you open your door to find your close friends, Yoongi and Jimin, seated at the dining table, enjoying breakfast. Their subtle waves are met with your ecstatic waving. You glance at Namjoon standing near the stove wearing a tank top and basketball shorts. He tends to the bacon in the pan as it sizzles and pops.

"Joon, could you set aside two pieces for me?" you call out, causing him to jolt as he hadn't noticed your presence in the room due to him being in zen focus trying not to burn everyone’s breakfast.

He sighs, shoulders slumping. "You better hurry and brush your teeth, or I might let Jungkook have the rest once he's out of the shower in a few minutes."

Nodding, you hurry to the second bathroom in your home to prepare for the day, aiming to grab some fresh homemade breakfast before your noon class.

This spacious house has been your shared sanctuary with your childhood best friends – Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Park Jimin – since the start of your second year of college in September. Last year, some older guy friends from your hometown who went to the same college as you lived at the house originally. Then over the summer, your best friends moved in with them to take summer courses and on-campus internships. You got added to the mix when you were desperately trying to find housing as the university waitlisted you in favor of the 29,000 new freshmen they admitted to the campus who they prioritized housing for. After looking at expensive off-campus apartments and sketchy leases, the boys couldn’t bear seeing you struggle and potentially homeless, so they let you live with them in their 4 bedroom home. Your housemate Seokjin gave up his single room, with a bit of hesitation, so you could live comfortably. The rest of the boys share rooms with each other.

With eight people living together, the house unofficially earns the nickname "Beta Tau Sigma," or the “pseudo frat”, as some people around campus called it. While not officially recognized as a fraternity due to various complicated reasons, the BTS house still became known for its "poppin’ house parties” hosted by your lovely housemate Jung Hoseok last year.

Your friendship with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin goes back to a little over a decade ago. Namjoon became your next door neighbor as a kid, eventually he introduced you to Yoongi who was a family friend of his, and finally, you all befriended Jimin when he transferred to your middle school. You all remained close during high school. Namjoon and Yoongi, being a year older than you and Jimin, graduated and went to college. Eventually you and Jimin graduated, and the two of you got into the same college a few hours away from your hometown as them and attended together.

However, moving in with a bunch of men was something you prefer that people didn’t know about you. You wanted to avoid any rumors being created, especially considering the guys living with you are popular among the girls at your campus. If there is something that you don’t miss from high school, it is the petty drama and baseless rumors people make to tear others down. For now, people assume you are living in the dorms with your only female friend: Hwasa. You always think that it’s for the best things are this way. You decide not to think too much beyond that, despite the probability that a few people are catching on to the fact that you probably do live with these guys platonically.

After washing up, you enter the kitchen again, taking a seat next to Yoongi who is engrossed in his Twitter feed. He finally acknowledges your presence.

"Took you long enough, huh? Don't you have Stats at 10?" He quips.

You scrunch your eyebrows at him. “Good morning to you too, Yoongs?” You retort playfully. “No stats today. It’s Thursday so I have Finance at noon!"” You exclaim loudly to the room.

Groans resonate through the kitchen. Yoongi's teasing backfires, much to his chagrin. Taehyung descends from upstairs, puzzled by the commotion in the room.

“What’s wrong with her finance class?” He asks innocently.

"There’s nothing wrong with the class, but it's the classmate in that class!" Namjoon sighs, leaning on the counter after placing your bacon and avocado toast plate on the table.

"Lim Jaebeom," Jimin snickers, promptly earning a discreet kick from you under the table. "Ow! Hey! No need to resort to violence! Hey! I’m only speaking facts!” He winces as he holds his knee up and rubs the pain away.

Lim Jaebeom, also known by everyone as JB, is the cute guy you met in your Macroeconomics class last year. He is popular as a member of a real fraternity, Gamma Omega Tau and the professional frat, Kappa Psi Pi (or JYP, as some called it?). Part of both fraternities, he radiates talent as a business major and an underground SoundCloud artist on the side. While your interactions remain class-related, he greets you often outside of class even after the course finished, much to your best friends’ annoyance.

Over spring semester of last year and the initial weeks of the current fall semester, you’ve developed a small crush on Jaebeom. Though when it comes to your love life, it’s been a few years since you’ve had some kind of thing going on. There’s only been two people so far: Wonwoo, captain of the Men’s varsity volleyball team who you slept with once when you boldly asked him if he would take your v-card. You and your best friends were going through an experimental era during your junior year of high school. They teased you a lot about being “innocent” but were left speechless when you told them what you’ve done. They said that was the end of the experimental era. Later on you also found out he’s your housemate Jungkook’s cousin.

The second guy is Yeonjun. You don’t like to talk about him much, but he was in the same year and you guys talked often (much to Namjoon’s dismay). He was your fake date at your housemate Seokjin's brother's wedding the summer after you graduated high school. One thing led to another and you were sneaky links for a while. It didn’t end well though.

"She's got eyes for JB, but is too scared to make a move," Jimin teases, earning him another kick under the table to which he dodges.

"In case you forgot, it took you a month to see Irene Bae wanted you so badly," Taehyung rolls his eyes while a hint of a smile tugs your lips as you struggle to suppress your laughter seeing him call out Jimin.

The Jimin and Irene power couple relationship goes back to spring semester last year. Taehyung needed Jimin to go on a double date with him to the Psi Gamma Epsilon Formal, which is the co-ed fraternity that Taehyung’s girlfriend Jennie is in. While you have many mixed opinions about Taehyung’s tastes when it comes to women, you hate that he influenced some of those tastes on Jimin. Thus, Jennie introduced Jimin to her friend, Irene (the Sigma Mu Epsilon Campus President) and the rest is history.

Though, you weren't aware that they were dating until a month ago when they had already been dating for three months. You are not sure how they managed to hide it from people for a while.

“Ya!! How was I supposed to know that getting asked to eat ramen together on a Friday night meant anything BUT eating ramen.” Jimin sighs as he gets up from his chair. “Maybe you should ask Jaebeom out for some ramen.” He playfully suggests, emphasizing Jaebeom's name, sending your face into a blush.

"I'm not interested in sleeping with him!" you protest, cheeks burning. In Korean slang, sharing ramen implies spending the night together. You’d rather romantically share ramen like the spaghetti eating scene in “Lady & the Tramp” than fuck him and ruin your friendship.

“Isn’t that what he’s known for? Sleeping with girls, taking sex polaroids, and plastering them on his frat bedroom wall? Taehyung butts in, since he too, knows of Jaebeom’s lifestyle like everyone else on this campus does. You, of course, are aware of it too, which is why you haven’t bothered to try your chance with him.

“Exactly why I’m okay being the nice friend saying hi from across campus when he says hi instead of becoming a faceless polaroid in his room of him giving me backshots.” You cross your arms as you roll your eyes at him.

“Please don’t give me mental images of that.” Yoongi finally speaks up, groaning at your words again. You playfully elbow his side at your remark. He covers his face immediately as he feels himself blushing at these thoughts.

“Well, when you decide to get the balls to do something, I shall be here to give you advice. Just let me know.” Jimin says as he grabs his bag from the couch and heads to class with Taehyung, leaving you with Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Wow, can you believe him? He thinks he can talk big now that he’s dating little Miss Sigma Mu Epsilon’s President Irene.” You let out an annoyed sigh as you take a bite out of the avocado toast Namjoon gave you.

At first you were excited for one of your guy best friends to be in a relationship again after years, but that excitement was short-lived as you noticed Jimins’ absence in the house became more evident. He would either be at his dance club, studying in the library, or spending the rest of his freetime with Irene. Maybe doing all of the above with her.

When you and your best friends were in relationships or flings in the past, they promised that they would never leave or ignore the group to prioritize those other people first. And they were always true to their word.

But as of lately, not anymore. While you once were used to having Jimin at home or at the dorm common area with the guys for Friday Night Game Night, this sight was slowly becoming a memory. It’s hard to admit how these subtle changes of seeing Jimin prefer to do other activities saddens you. You eventually decided to bottle up your feelings of sadness, not wanting them to see, and focus on other things filling up your plate.

Namjoon wasn’t paying attention to what you said as he uncontrollably smiles at his phone with a Kakao talk chat with someone pulled up, making your eyes narrow at him.

“O-Oh, sorry. I was texting Jihyo.” he admits blatantly, before widening his eyes at what he just said. “What did you say?” Namoon glances at you briefly.

“Park Jihyo? Your group project partner slash sex–?” Yoongi narrows his gaze at Namjoon, before he quickly launches to cover Yoongi’s mouth.

What? Is this seriously another sudden revelation incoming this early in the morning? You didn’t think you’d spiral into a pool of further questioning the future of your friendship with your guy best friends. Especially when it comes to Namjoon dating the campus’ kindest angel, Jihyo. Compared to Irene, you don’t have anything snarky to say about Jihyo. You admit she is better in hundreds of different ways than you. You wonder if your friends’ recent dating or fling escapades are a sign of a bigger issue in your friendship with them. You wonder if Yoongi’s also hiding someone away from your sight.

"So you’re also seeing someone?" Your pout is playful, but a hint of disappointment peeks through. "Don't tell me you're bailing on Friday Night Game Nights just like Jimin…"

Namjoon's response carries a weight of hesitation as he takes a thoughtful pause, considering his next words carefully. "Well, kind of…" His words hang in the air for a moment, a sense of complexity in his tone. "It's complicated... and no, I won't be skipping Friday Night Game Night every time like Jimin... except for this week."

The curiosity in your expression is mirrored by Yoongi's raised eyebrow. “What’s the excuse that you so kindly will be telling Yoongi and I?” you ask, the intrigue evident in your voice.

“Well actually, I may need to borrow the house so I was wondering if you guys could have Friday Night Game Night somewhere else.”

“Why should we go somewhere--” As you begin to protest, an epiphany interrupts your words, causing them to taper off. A realization dawns, connecting the dots between Yoongi's earlier comments and the direction this conversation is taking. “Wait what!? KIM NAMJOON YOU-!”

“You’re seriously going to sexile everyone in this house?” Yoongi's words burst forth interrupting yours, his laced with a mixture of genuine surprise and a hint of humor. His widened eyes are concealed behind a hand that covers his mouth, almost as if he's trying to stifle his amusement at the sudden request.

Namjoon lets out a chuckle, his expression playful as he confirms, "Potentially! But I'm not sure yet. I might go back to her place, but I wanted to keep my options open so we could..."

Your voice cuts in before Namjoon can elaborate further, a mix of jest and sincerity in your tone, "Okay, okay, okay, I get it! We'll move game night somewhere else then!" The words rush out of you as you shield yourself from whatever details might follow that your ears weren't prepared for. You shoot Yoongi a look, seeking affirmation. "We’ll figure it out..right, Yoongi?"

Yoongi doesn't miss a beat as he follows up with a response laced with dry humor, “Right. I really don’t want to hear my best friend fucking while I’m trying to relax at the end of a stressful week.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks, and you playfully reprimand Yoongi, your palm meeting your face in an exaggerated facepalm, "Yoongi, please spare us from any more visual details." Your laughter mingles with a hint of embarrassment, but you quickly regain your composure. "But thank you for letting us know, Namjoon..."

Namjoon's easy smile returns, and he jests, "Have fun without me, though. I know Jin and Jungkook will keep things lively without me or even Jimin there."

Even without any truly scandalous events transpiring, an air of awkwardness hangs over the conversation. The remainder of your breakfast passes in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Eventually, you rise from the table, making your way back to your room to prepare for class, which looms just an hour away.

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By the time you come out of your room again, only Yoongi and Jungkook are in the living room doing last minute assignments. You assume Namjoon already left for class with Hoseok and also figure Seokjin left even before that. He’s the only person in this house taking 8am classes.

This is the norm. On Thursdays, you walk with Yoongi to class, as his class is in the same building as yours. Sometimes, Jungkook joins you guys when he procrastinates the hour before class to finish assignments.

“Are you ready to go? Jungkook’s done now.” Yoongi gets up from the couch already expecting your response to be yes. Jungkook looks up from his textbook to give you a thumbs up.

“Yep, all ready to go.”

The three of you step out onto campus, engaging in conversation that weaves between the events of the week and the anticipation of the impending game night. As you discuss plans, you consider the limited guests—Namjoon engaged with his "complicated" fuck buddy situation, Jimin on his weekend outings with Irene—leaving only you, Yoongi, Jungkook, Hoseok, Jin, and Taehyung for the upcoming Friday Night Game Night. At least you thought it was just the 6 of you.

Jungkook interjects, scratching his head apologetically. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention earlier, but Taehyung and I are going out bowling and drinking with the Woogas on Friday..." His voice trails off with a sheepish smile, his plea for forgiveness evident in his gesture. The Woogas were a group of grad students who were close to Taehyung.

Surveying the group left, you pose a question, preempting any plans that would end up getting canceled. "Anybody else have plans?"

Jungkook takes a bit to contemplate, his mutterings finally clarifying the situation. "I remember Jin hyung texting the gc that he has a Kappa Psi Pi chapter till 9:30 tomorrow—pledging's keeping him busy. He might go out with his frat brothers afterward for drinks. Hoseok is out of town tonight for a competitive dance tournament with the uni dance club."

A collective sigh of resignation hangs in the air as you and Yoongi register the inevitability—it's just the two of you for the upcoming Friday night. Your expressions communicate mutual understanding, as if exchanging an unspoken acknowledgment that it won't be just this one time moving forward.

You bid farewell to Jungkook as he heads off to his own class, then turn to Yoongi with a hopeful glint in your eyes, silently urging him to weave his magic and devise a plan to fill the void left by your absent friends.

"Maybe we could hit that popular bar downtown? What's it called...Arena?" Yoongi suggests, a hint of excitement lacing his words.

A shake of your head expresses your skepticism. "On a Friday night? I heard too many weirdos go at that time, Yoongs.”

“Then, why don’t we go house party hopping? We haven’t done that since freshman year.” He smirks, as he adds the nostalgic suggestion.

The words "house party hopping" elicit a mix of memories, both good and not-so-good. It's a ritual familiar to college freshmen to excessively drink and dance at multiple parties in one night, but it gets too difficult to do through the rest of undergrad. You, however, have only done this activity of going to multiple different parties in one night, twice.

The first time, things went smoothly when Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin went to five different house parties on the frat house row. The second time was not so smooth. Contrary to popular belief of Beta Tau Sigma, everyone at the house are light-weights when it comes to drinking, with Yoongi, Jungkook and Taehyung probably being the strongest drinkers of the bunch. That night of house party hopping ended with Namjoon and Jimin getting drunk and losing their student access cards at one of the five houses you went to. Because they couldn’t get into their dorm, you and Yoongi had to carry them back to your dorm and have them to stay at the dorm’s study lounge for the night. At some point, you all almost got caught by the dorm RA making their nightly rounds to make sure everything is good. Yoongi quickly excused all of you being cramped in the small room as “studying for an accounting midterm”, to which the RA didn’t question anything further after hearing the words “accounting” and left you alone for the rest of the night.

Based on that experience, you are reluctant to even try doing that again. However this time, it is just going to be you and Yoongi, the most mature ones in the overall friend group. Or at least you like to think so.

"Well, considering how the last time went..." Your voice trails off, your narrowed eyes revealing your internal debate. "I'll think about it more and let you know."

Yoongi nods at your response and you both say goodbye as you part ways to class.

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Entering your finance class, You secure a seat near the door and the front board, a vantage point that lets you observe the classroom's dynamics. Today, however, your routine is disrupted when someone unexpectedly occupies the seat next to you.

As you set up your notebook, your gaze lifts, revealing Jaebeom sitting beside you. A faint flutter tugs at your heart, a pulse of anticipation racing through your veins. A steady stream of thoughts races through your mind, echoing, "This is definitely sus." You've consumed enough romance novels and coming-of-age stories to recognize when circumstances take a pointed turn. You've shared casual conversations and greetings with Jaebeom, but sitting next to each other is unprecedented��there's surely more to it.

A subtle "Ahem" draws your attention, and Jaebeom turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours. "Hey, Y/N… do you mind if I sit here today? I left my glasses behind, and I can't really see from my usual spot."

Your reassurance carries a softness as you reply, "Hi, Jaebeom! Of course, no problem." A smile graces your lips, and he returns it, dispelling the suspicions you had entertained. So you guess there’s no special reason for sitting next to you.

The rest of class goes by smoothly, but you can’t help but to think that Jaebeom has something else to ask you about. The overthinking from your wild imagination is getting to you. As the class concludes, you hurriedly pack your belongings, eager to continue with your day. Yet, before you can make your exit, Jaebeom's voice halts you in your tracks.

"Hey! I've been meaning to ask," his words are loud, receiving attention from your peers, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow? The Gammas are hosting a party, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming."

Bingo. This is exactly what you’ve been waiting for. Not an invite to a party per se, BUT now you suddenly have something to do with Yoongi tomorrow night after being ditched by everyone else.

“I’m down to go! I actually changed plans with a few friends so I don’t have anything to do tomorrow night.”

Jaebeom's response brings an even wider smile to your face. “Then I’ll see you there! You can bring a friend with you if you’d like.” And with that, you and Yoongi are definitely booked for tomorrow night.

With those words, your plans for tomorrow night are sealed. The newfound excitement has you beginning to wonder whether it’s actually alright to go considering Yoongi feels indifferent towards Jaebeom. You decide to call him about the plan on your way to the library for your daily fix of iced tea.

Dialing Yoongi's number, you initiate the conversation. "You and me, Gamma Omega Tau house party," you declare, your voice laced with anticipation.

His response holds a curious tone. "...So, I'll take that as a yes to house party hopping."

Chuckling, you clarify, maintaining your stance. "Well, we could do that if you're set on it," You explain, continuing your lowkey refusal to repeat that experience. “...but I actually got personally invited to the GOT party by Jaebeom.”

Yoongi's groan resonates through the line, conveying his reluctance but also a willingness to compromise. "If there's free booze and a chance to catch up with some other friends, then count me in."

“That’s perfect!” Excitement in your voice is clear to Yoongi as you both finalize plans for tomorrow night. Perhaps it’ll end up being a fun night for the both of you compared to what everyone else was doing instead. The upset feeling from all the sudden changes continues to linger in your chest, but you brush it away with the hopes of getting wasted on Friday.

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Friday comes by like a quick breeze. The day passes in a blur of classes, assignments, and hanging out with Yoongi and the rest of your friends. Evening comes around, and you find yourself getting ready for the Gamma Omega Tau party. You choose a cute yet comfortable outfit consisting of a revealing v-bar black tube top and ripped boyfriend jeans, hoping to strike a balance between looking good and feeling at ease. After a bit of makeup and fixing your hair, you are ready to head out.

You walk over to knock on Yoongi’s bedroom door. He opens the door revealing his outfit: a black tank top, acid-washed ripped jeans, and a black leather jacket to top it off. It definitely makes him exude his signature nonchalant charm. As he greets you with a nod, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement for the night ahead. You guys look so hot and would definitely make the other guys jealous of your totally awesome alternative Friday night plans if they were here.

The two of you make your way to the party a couple blocks away on frat row, the streets buzzing with energy as students get ready to party for the weekend. The Gamma Omega Tau house is alive with music, laughter, and the glow of colorful lights. You both enter the party, and immediately the atmosphere hits you—a mix of pulsating music, chatter, and the distinct scent of alcohol.

Yoongi heads to the makeshift bar in the kitchen to get drinks, while you decide to explore the party on your own. You bump into a couple of familiar faces from classes, exchanging greetings and catching up briefly. Some of these faces included Hwasa, your only dear female best friend who you haven’t seen much since moving out of your shared dorm freshman year. She is a little busy taking shots with who seems to be your old dorm floor neighbors Soyoon and Jieun. But overall, the night is young, and the anticipation of what it could bring is building up inside you.

A little while later, Yoongi returns with drinks in hand—something colorful and sweet for you, and something stronger for himself. You clink your cups together before taking a sip. The music is loud, and bodies are moving to the rhythm all around you. It was a sight to behold—the carefree spirit of college life on full display.

As the night progresses, you find yourself playing various party games, dancing a little with Hwasa, and meeting new people she introduces you to. Yoongi seems to be enjoying himself from a distance, laughing and chatting with a group of guys from his music class. He occasionally watches you from afar to make sure you don’t get lost or that something even worse doesn’t happen. Frat parties can be dangerous after all. It makes you feel a little happy that he does these little things and shows how much he cares about you. More than you thought before. However, there’s a sudden moment in the lively ambience when you start to feel a pang of loneliness. A sense of being adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Time seems to slip away as you’re lost in the lights, and before you know it, you are on your third drink. The alcohol is starting to take its effect, making you feel warm and a bit more uninhibited. Maybe this wasn’t the best choice. Maybe partying is not what you needed tonight to get your mind off of things.

And these thoughts are only amplified with the next thing you see. In the corner of the crowded kitchen, you catch Namjoon and Jihyo making out, and your heart races. You suddenly excuse yourself from the group you are chatting with and head towards the front door, seeking some space to clear your head.

However you stop yourself from bursting out of the open door. Instead, you lean against the wall, trying to steady your breathing. The noise and chaos of the party feel overwhelming now rather than numbing your thoughts from earlier. You clutch your cup as you look around, feeling like an outsider in your own surroundings. It’s in this moment of vulnerability that someone bumps into you, spilling their red jungle juice all over your clothes. You look down at your stained jeans emotionless.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the girl exclaims, looking genuinely apologetic as she hands you some napkins. Your vision is blurring and you can’t tell if you know her or not. Her voice sounds familiar though.

Though, you manage a weak nod letting her know it was fine. It is in that unfortunate moment that you see your crush, JB, appearing out of nowhere walking in your direction. In the several hours you’ve been here this is when he decides to show up?! Your heart continues to race faster as he approaches, his eyes locking onto yours. Not right now, you plead to the gods internally that he isn’t coming towards you. But he does.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" JB asks, his concern evident in his voice as he looks you over.

You feel a lump forming in your throat, not wanting him to see you in this state of vulnerability. Your eyes well up, and you fight to hold back tears. This isn't how you want him to see you, at your lowest point, struggling to keep it together.

Just as you are about to break down, a strong hand gently takes hold of your left arm, pulling you away from JB. You are led into the dimly lit hallway, away from the noise of the party. Not many people looming in this area. The door to the bathroom opens as someone leaves, and the person guides you inside before locking the door behind you.

Your visions starts to focus fully again. And you see…

It’s Yoongi.

His presence is a lifeline you forgot that you needed moments before.

"Y-Yoongi!" The exclamation trembles in the air, a mixture of surprise, relief, and the weight of your unraveling emotions.

In the dimly lit bathroom, you finally let your guard down, the tears streaming down your cheeks. Yoongi is momentarily taken aback by the intensity of your reaction, but swiftly recovers. He extends a napkin from his pocket, offering it as a gesture of support. His features, though, oscillate between concern and puzzlement, his brows slightly furrowed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil.

You take a shuddering breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The alcohol is making it hard to articulate your feelings, but you manage to explain how seeing Namjoon and Jihyo had triggered a sense of loneliness and panic within you. Jimin dating Irene in what seemed to be a serious relationship also has you spiraling. It all makes you question the stability of your friendships and fear that you are slowly losing the people who once meant the most to you.

Yoongi listens intently, his gaze unwavering as he lets you pour out your feelings. When you are done, he leans against the sink, his expression thoughtful.

"I get it," he says, his voice soft but steady. "Change is hard, and sometimes it feels like everything is slipping away. But you know, life just keeps moving forward, and people change, I guess. But it doesn’t mean Namjoon or Jimin are leaving you behind."

You nod, sniffing as you wipe away your tears. "I know, but... it's just overwhelming seeing everything unfold."

He reaches out and gently tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze with his warm eyes. "You're not alone in this, Y/N. We're here for you, and we're all figuring things out as we go along."

His words strike a chord within you, a sense of comfort washing over you in the midst of your emotional storm. Yoongi's presence feels like an anchor, grounding you when everything feels chaotic.

Then, without warning, he looks at you intensely and asks, “Since we’re having this conversation, I’m questioning whether you like Jimin based on what you just said…"

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What? No! Jimin's like a brother to me. A reliable brother who understands me pretty well…” You pause a bit and mumble, “Well at least he used to."

He nods, his gaze unrelenting yet thoughtful, as if he's trying to read between the lines of your response. But then he asks another question that left you momentarily speechless.

"What about Namjoon?"

You hesitate, your mind racing. Your feelings for Namjoon have always been a bit more complex, and you aren't sure how to put them into words. Namjoon was your first friend out of the trio of him, Yoongi, and Jimin. He was 7 when he moved in next door from Korea as his dad got a new job working as a Chemical Engineer for an energy company in the US. You got along well with him as kids who both played Pokemon games and he was the only person you could trade with. He’s also the one who gave you his shiny purple Wailmer from his Pokemon Emerald. Eventually as you got older, you both came to enjoy reading books and art history. What does he mean to you?

Before you can muster a response to that, Yoongi suddenly adds another question, his voice gentle yet persistent. “What about me?”

Your gaze flickers to him, and you find yourself locking eyes with him. Then you quickly look away, focusing on the purple lighting in the bathroom.

This questions starts to add new thoughts that you hadn’t really considered due to your worries about Namjoon and Jimin. However now, the intensity of this current moment is almost overwhelming, and you feel a swirling mix of emotions within you. Yoongi's proximity, his unwavering gaze, and the weight of his questions are all converging, pulling you into a realm of introspection and vulnerability.

Yoongi seems to sense your uncertainty, your inner struggle. He steps closer, his presence enveloping you. His gaze remains fixed on yours, his face just inches away from yours. The air between you is charged, heavy with unspoken words and unexplored emotions. "You can tell me," he urges softly, his voice a gentle whisper that brushes against your skin.

As you look into his eyes again, your heart races. The alcohol has lowered your inhibitions, and in this moment, everything feels so intense, so raw. You try to form words, but they fail you. Instead, you let your gaze speak for you, letting your emotions flow through the unspoken connection between you. Suddenly Namjoon and Jimin are blurring away to only afterimages in your current state of mind. All you see in great focus is Yoongi right now.

Without another word, Yoongi closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. The world around you fades away, and all that matters is the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the rush of emotions that swirls between you.

The kiss is a silent confession, a release of feelings that have been building up for far too long. When Yoongi finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath slightly uneven.

"Y-Yoongi..," you whisper, a mix of surprise and wonder in your voice.

Yoongi chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Sometimes, things don't need to be said. They just need to be felt."

As you stand there, locked in each other's gaze, you realize that this unexpected turn of events has brought you closer to Yoongi in ways you didn’t anticipate. It’s a new chapter, a chance to explore something deeper and more meaningful between you.

With a gentle smile, he leans in to kiss you again, and this time, there is no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the promise of a connection that has been there all along, waiting to be acknowledged.

And so, in the dimly colored bathroom of the Gamma Omega Tau house, amid the sounds of distant laughter and music, you and Yoongi quickly unite lips once again.

As the intensity between you and Yoongi grows, the bathroom seems to shrink around you, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a bubble of shared emotion. His lips press against yours with a newfound urgency, a hunger that mirrors the feelings you have both kept hidden for so long. The taste of him is intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and warmth that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. The touch of his fingertips against your skin sends a wave of electricity through your body, igniting a fire deep within you. Your own hands instinctively move to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

The kiss deepens, a passionate dance of lips and tongues that leaves no room for doubts or reservations. Yoongi's fingers trail up your back, the sensation making your breath hitch. The world outside that bathroom seems distant, irrelevant, as your focus narrows down to the connection between your bodies and the raw emotion that flows between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips, a sound that seems to fuel the fire burning between you. Yoongi's lips leave yours, trailing a path of heated kisses down your jawline, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin. His hands move to your hips, pulling you against him, and you can feel his own desire pressing against your abdomen.

With a mix of urgency and tenderness, he captures your lips once more, pouring every unspoken word and hidden longing into the kiss. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly as his lips explore your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, each touch, each sensation sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

The soft fabric of your clothes seems like an obstacle now, an unnecessary barrier between your skin and his. Yoongi's fingers deftly work at the buttons of your tube top, his touch leaving a trail of fire along your exposed skin. Your breath hitches as his lips find the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin gently, causing a shiver to course through you.

In a moment of boldness, your hands move to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his bare chest. Your fingers trace the contours of his muscles, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. His lips find yours once again, a hungry, fervent kiss that speaks of the intensity of your emotions.

With a skillful touch, Yoongi lifts you up onto the bathroom counter, the cool surface sending a shock through your body. He stands between your legs, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he gazes into your eyes.

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You can only respond with a breathless nod before his lips crash against yours again. Not fully understanding the words that just left his mouth. The kiss deepens, a mixture of passion and tenderness that leaves you dizzy with sensation. His hands explore every curve of your body, memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

Your own hands aren't idle either, roaming his chest and back, reveling in the sensation of his skin against yours. The heat between you was undeniable, a magnetic pull that draws you closer with every passing second. And in that bathroom, amid the swirling emotions and the touch of your lips, you feel an unspoken promise taking root—a promise of something more, something real and beautiful.

The outside world fades into insignificance. The party, the noise, the worries about Namjoon and Jimin and everyone else—all of it melts away, leaving only the two of you and the intensity of this moment. As you hold onto each other, lost in the depths of your feelings, you know that this is a turning point that will permanently alter your friendship with Yoongi.

As the kisses between you and Yoongi continue, the electricity in the air grows stronger, pulling you both further into the depths of your shared desire. Every touch, every caress is a testament to the unspoken connection that has been building between you for so long. It’s as if the universe has finally aligned, allowing you to explore the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface.

A soft, almost desperate, sound escapes Yoongi's lips as he reluctantly pulls away from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, and you can see the raw emotions swirling within them.

"We should... we should get out of here," he murmurs, his voice rough with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

You nod in agreement, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves course through you. This is a pivotal moment, a decision that could potentially change the course of your relationship. With a shared understanding, you both turn away from the party scene and make your way through the crowd towards the exit.

The cool night air hits you as you step outside, a welcome contrast to the heated intensity of the party. Yoongi's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as you walk side by side down the dimly lit streets. The silence between you is charged with anticipation, every step bringing you closer to a new chapter in your story.

When you finally arrive back at the house, the atmosphere is different—quieter, more intimate. Namjoon didn’t come use the house like he said he would yesterday, you briefly recall. Maybe that’s a good thing. The GOT party is still in full swing, he is there with Jihyo, but you and Yoongi are in your own world here with no one to stop what is happening. The journey up the stairs to your shared house feels like a blur, your heart racing in anticipation of what is to come.

Once inside, you both head straight to your bedroom. The air is thick with tension, the unspoken yet silly question hangs in the air: Is this really happening? As you close the door locking it behind you, the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of your own space.

Yoongi turns to you, his gaze searching yours for reassurance. Without a word, you step closer, closing the distance between you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you gently against him. The touch of his body against yours sends a shiver of electricity through you, a reminder of the desire that has been building between you.

His lips find yours again, a kiss that holds all the pent-up longing and emotion that have been simmering beneath the surface. The taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, is intoxicating. His hands roam your body with a reverence that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

With each kiss, each touch, the world around you fades away, leaving only the intensity of the moment. The bed is just a few steps away, an inviting sanctuary where you could explore the depths of your connection in private. Without breaking the kiss, you take his hand and lead him towards the bed, your heart pounding in anticipation.

As you stand at the edge of the bed, your eyes meet Yoongi's, a silent agreement passing between you. With a mixture of urgency and tenderness, you begin to undress each other, the air heavy with the weight of your shared desire. Yoongi's touch is gentle, his fingers tracing every curve of your body as he reveals the skin beneath your clothes.

Soon, you are both standing before each other, bare and vulnerable, yet completely unburdened by the weight of your emotions. You shyly stare down at Yoongi’s dick, admiring its pink, veiny appearance. It looks very girthy, potentially filling to the core. You're embarrassed to admit you might have imagined Yoongi naked before. When you were a middle schooler curiously imagining bodily differences between you and your male friends. But now seeing his beautiful body before you brings some excitement to your soft skin, some heat rushing through your core and nearly down your thighs, onto the floor. Your mouth suddenly dries and you feel self-conscious that your expression may be as plain and eager as it might be. He clears his throat, but that makes him more embarrassed. You bite your bottom lip, unsure of what to do.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Yoongi's lips find yours once more, a kiss that speaks of promises and possibilities. With a gentle push, he guides you onto the bed, his body following yours as the kiss deepens.

The softness of the sheets beneath you, the heat of Yoongi's body against yours—it is a sensory overload, a symphony of sensations that leaves you breathless. You feel the cold sweat of his skin on yours as your bodies press together. His lips are against your jaw and your hands are exploring his body as much as you can with your legs around his hips. He climbs down to your mound and opens his mouth letting his warm, wet tongue lap over your clit. One of Yoongi's hands finds purchase on your hip to help you move with him while the long fingers of his other hand tease your enterance before pushing inside. His hot breath on your clit and his fingers inside you makes you want to beg for more. But the sensation is so intense it has rendered you speechless, the only noise to leave your mouth is a choked, muffled groan that only urges him further.

His tongue on you feels too good and you can only let him explore. You are enjoying the sensation and the way his fingers play your body like an instrument. You let out a loud gasp when you cum, your whole body arching towards him as pleasure washed over you, your thighs tightening around to his back. You feel your insides clench and throb as your orgasm washed over you in waves.

Yoongi smirks at you for a second as he lifts his head, removing his fingers from inside you. He climbs up your body until he reaches your lips. Your hand wraps around the back of his neck and you kiss him with fervor. You taste yourself in his mouth and it makes you hungry for more. You feel the pressure in your abdomen again, desperate for more. His body is hard, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. It’s a gentle pressure, a delicious tension that makes you want more.

"Y-Yoongi... I need more.." You whimper against his mouth, your tongue running over his bottom lip before you pull away and look into his eyes. "Please, I need more..."

"I've got you, angel." He whispers reassuringly before he moves away briefly to retrieve the condom he keeps handy in his wallet in case he ever needs it. The new nickname catches you off guard as he usually tends to call you Sunshine unless you’re having a serious conversation, like earlier. However you kind of like this name.

He opens the package with his teeth and rolls the rubber on himself. You whimper when you feel the head of his cock press against you. He slowly pushes inside, but it’s enough to make your head spin. His length fills you perfectly and you can feel yourself pulsate around him. He makes his way slowly inside you, pushing deeper until he is completely inside you. He then rests his forehead against yours. You look into each other's eyes and the intensity of his gaze is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"You're doing so well for me," He speaks softly, his voice hoarse with arousal. His praises pull a moan from your lips you can't supress.

He slowly pulls out then pushes back in watching as his cock disapears inside you. He pulls out again and does the same thing. His thrusts become faster with each time he pushes back inside. As your moans become louder, his thrusts become more eager. He adjusts himself until he finds a position that has his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust, your legs lifting over his hips and your hands roaming his body to keep yourself grounded.

Yoongi's leaves small kisses along your neck and down to your breasts as he continues to fuck you. He acts carefully with each action he takes, and makes a point to watch your reaction for the slightest sign of discomfort. He never stops praising you, whispering how good you were for him and how much he loves having you like this, taking all of him. His sultry low voice is making you even more sensitive and it’s a bit overwhelming, but it somehow helps make your depressing thoughts from earlier at the party disappear. With him, you felt safe and cared for.

His hands come to cup your breast and you cry out as your body arches towards him. He keeps one hand cupping your breast and takes your nipple between his fingers and gently pinches it, eliciting a softer whimper from you.

You pull Yoongi against you closing the gap between your bodies, your fingers grip his hair tightly as you cry out, your insides clenching around him. Your back arches off the bed as your orgasm washed over you once again. He fucks you through your orgasm, and when your legs relaxed over his hips, he keeps pushing inside you. The sensation makes you want to cry from overstimulation, but at the same time you beg for more. His cock inside you feels too good, the pleasure is too much. You don't know what to do with your body or if you should be doing something at all. Your hands find their way up his forearms and hold on to them tightly.

"Do it," You whisper intimately. "Cum for me, Yoongi..."

Your words are added motivation for him to do just that. As he moves, his thrusts pushing deeper inside you, a cascade of sensations courses through both your bodies. Your back arches instinctively, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that envelops you. He responds by lowering himself, his forehead meeting yours in an exquisite intimacy that intensifies the connection between you two.

Amidst the whirlwind of ecstasy, a thought flits through your consciousness—a moment of profound gratitude for the intoxicating sound of Yoongi's moans. It's a melody you never envisioned hearing, a symphony of vulnerability and shared pleasure that resonates deep within you. This unexpected harmony adds a new layer to your connection, stoking the flames of desire and amazement that consume every inch of your being. It leaves you feeling content and relaxed.

Yoongi's body shudders against yours, his moans gradually subsiding into contented sighs. With a gentle sigh of satisfaction, he slides his cock out and shifts on the bed, rolling over to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in tandem, the rhythm of your breaths slowly synchronizing as you find yourselves tangled in the aftermath of passion.

You both move again, laying side by side. Both of you catch your breath, the world around you receding into a hazy background as your gazes lock. Eyes that have seen each other's vulnerabilities, laughter, and shared moments now reflect a new layer of intimacy that words could never capture.

The lingering cocoons you both in a silence that speaks volumes. It's Yoongi who takes the initiative to pierce through the quiet, his voice carrying a breathless quality that mirrors the aftermath of your passion.

"How are you feeling now?" His words hang in the air, delicate yet heavy with unspoken meaning. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and concern, a testament to his attentiveness even in the midst of his own unraveling.

A playful smile tugs at your lips, your voice laced with a hint of mischievousness as you respond to his inquiry. "Never better," you answer, your words bathed in the soft notes of a giggle that dances between you.

His laughter echoes yours, a harmonious symphony of shared joy that envelops the space between you. It's a sound that transcends the physical, a connection that binds you beyond the realm of touch. In his laughter, you sense a quiet affirmation—a declaration that the bond you've nurtured extends beyond the passionate moments, into the realm of comfort, friendship, and a connection that defies categorization.

As the night wears on and the intensity of your connection slowly ebbs away, you find yourselves wrapped in each other's arms, your bodies intertwined in a tender embrace. Yoongi's touch is reassuring, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as you lay together in the quiet darkness.

"I want you to know," Yoongi's voice was soft, his breath tickling your ear, "that no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. You mean a lot to me, and I don't want you to ever doubt that."

His words warm your heart, a balm to the insecurities that have been lingering in the back of your mind. In his arms, you felt safe, cherished, and valued—emotions that have been elusive for so long.

"I feel the same way," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "You've always been there for me, Yoongi, and I'm grateful for that."

The quiet moment between you is filled with unspoken understanding. It is a pact, a promise to stand by each other's side no matter what challenges lay ahead. In this moment, the weight of your fears seemed to be lifted, replaced by a sense of comfort and reassurance.

But the hours drift by, and as the night grows deeper and the two of you grow more sober, the lingering consequences of your actions begin to cast a shadow over your thoughts. The warmth of Yoongi's embrace can't dispel the nagging worry that what you’ve done could have far-reaching ramifications.

It was the alcohol that further fueled your doubts, the liquid courage dulling your ability to rationalize. In the haze of your tipsy stupor, you begin to wonder if the intensity of the night is a result of the moment, the shared emotions, or simply the effect of alcohol clouding your judgment.

Despite Yoongi's assurances, the fear of what could come next gnaws at you. What if this changes everything? What if it ruins the friendship that has been the foundation of your relationship? The questions spiral in your mind, a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty that refuses to be silenced.

In an attempt to push those thoughts away, you cuddle closer into Yoongi's chest. It is a fleeting distraction, a way to drown out the voices of doubt that echoed in the back of your mind. The feeling of Yoongi’s warmth becomes a welcome distraction from the complex emotions that threaten to overwhelm you.

A/N: HELLO! Did you like the first chapter?! would it be crazy if i told you I had been planning this fic since 2021 but never got the chance to really delve into it until right now?? Well that's exactly what happened. I'd love to hear your feedback on this fic! pls reblog and like if you enjoyed! I am currently working on chapter 2 and bits of chapter 3, so I hope to get it done by early/mid-September, so please look forward to it!

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