#Daddy Long Legs is in the ceiling somewhere

[cupophrogs]

The Plan

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[takes1]

i am really in love with the way you write asahi!!!! really looking forward to part 2 of tipsy playfighting with him 😊😊😊

[final part] asahi getting rough with petite!reader

hellooooo thank you so much!!! was thiiiis 🤏close to doing a daddy kink thing, chose not to because that's kind of polarizing. like... pineapples on pizza

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / rough sex / f!rec oral / asahi is the perfect dominant / submissive!reader / aftercare king / fingering / mutual size kink / playfighting kink / rough play kink / power struggle fetish / pseudo-bdsm themes / pet names / mentions of subspace / mid-sex communication / being way too loud / daichi being a great friend / 3.5k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here.

'Kind of' made you stall at the top of the stairs.

The second floor, you realized, was all bedrooms. Your legs got heavy, your heart beating like a panicked bird in a cage.

It was ironic. Your ability to handle him downstairs came naturally, but as soon as you had some privacy, it all got intimidating.

Asahi paused after turning the corner. He eased back against the wall with a breath. He glanced to the staircase one more time to make sure nobody had followed you.

"There's nothin' to help with," He laughed, rubbing the side of his stubbly face, "I just- yeah, that was a super lame excuse, actually."

You stood with your hands clasped in front of you, a polite smile, trying to flex all the shivers down. Your crush on him reached its peaks and valleys throughout your years in school together. It reached a happy medium until tonight, starkly reminding you of your old, pushed-down feelings.

He was wicked cute, and that whole performance downstairs was cut too short.

A big breath led to a bigger sigh, "I really wanted to kiss you."

"Me too," You said, with almost no time to let his words settle.

Asahi covered his automatic laugh, and you shared a wholesome moment of mutual, nervous relief.

"Well, uh-," He seethed, eyes up to the ceiling, face much warmer, "If we're being totally honest-,"

The cheers downstairs cut him off. It sounded like Kageyama might have won his match, but neither of you cared.

Asahi suggested, instead, "Should we- go somewhere more private?"

Although you nodded, you weren't sure where he had in mind until he showed you into Daichi's bedroom. You raised your brow, taking in his posters, his books, the layout, feeling a bit guilty that he wasn't in here.

"Oh, I made sure it was cool with him if we- um, talked, in here," He explained.

The supportive body language from those two made infinitely more sense, but you doubted it that ended at 'talking.' You kept your excitement under the surface, for now.

"Right."

He sat on the mattress, a little invested in the feel of the sheets, by the way his hand slid and prodded over the thread count. The ache between your legs was starting to make your whole body cold.

Daichi had those glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, and you didn't want to leave it up to Asahi to fill the silence, so you tried, "How long do y'think he's had those?"

There were at least 20, you counted. When you looked back down, he was relaxed forward, elbows rested on his knees, with his face in his hands, staring straight at you. Screw the ceiling.

He cleared his throat, his eyes flickered dismissively up, "Oh, um- forever, I'm sure."

Asahi was a terrible liar. You were glad he was honest with you in the hall, because he had zero capacity for beating around the bush. His intentions were spoken for, but now they were transparent in his clouded, almost tormented eyes. He made it seem difficult to look at you without touching you.

"You said you wanted to kiss me, right?" The decision to make it easy for him was met with a huge shift in his expression, an ease you saw, earlier, that spread as he ran his hands along your sides.

A gentle brush of his thumb across your cheek, "I did."

Kissing him was simple- it didn't feel rushed, or confusing, at all. He made it all a pleasant and invigorating experience to follow his lead.

His fingers spread through your hair, at the base of your neck. A strong but soft pull brought you into the warm embrace of his body.

He smelled good- mostly like the aged liquor he was nursing most of the night, but a bit woody, with hint of cashmere. Even his scent made you feel taken care of.

"So," You caught your breath for a second, taking in his face as you tucked some hair behind his ear, "Are you sure Daichi's fine with us- talking, all over his bed?"

The way his eyes lit up during his chuckle made you grin, validated and light.

His lips smushed against yours again. He was lifting you up by the waist, setting you on your back with proud effortlessness. You kept your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, getting your fill of his hair while you could.

Before he could completely forget to respond, he hummed a preoccupied, "Yeahh, don't worry about'm."

A hand pinned yours against the mattress.

All he needed was a little reassurance, and he was no longer the sheepish wimp you knew him to be. For a while, when those hot summer seasons coincided with the throws of your crush, it was fun to imagine what he might be like. Now, there was proof, and he didn't disappoint.

The growing pressure he placed on you kept you flat, and slowly limited your ability to move. It was getting familiar.

You tried to move your hand from under his, unlace it, just to touch him, but it proved impossible.

A small chuckle, a little mutter against his temple as he struck crude kisses down the side of your neck: "Can I have my hand back?"

The skin over his knuckles was tough, and his palms were leathery, firm, from all the lifting he did. His strength alone spoke for his dedication, but you felt pleased to know these intimate details about his body.

Your request was met with your other hand being taken hostage. It wasn't fast, but he did it so naturally that you didn't think to move away.

The look he gave you perfectly represented the edge under his words.

"You want your hands back?"

It was a tease-- a way of telling you 'I know you can't move, but I want to see you try.'

You grew warm under the weight of his subtle, playful pushing-- both between your legs and over your palms.

Robbed of your autonomy, but still finding yourself exhilarated by the reality of his size, and his capacity to use it well, the only thing left to do was play along with him. If he had a real thing for this, you wanted to know just how far it went, how worked up it could get you both.

A tiny attempt to pull your arms closer was met with his easy, slow adjustment to cross them instead, above your head. He kissed you through it, all warm and gentle and kind and safe-- but curiously engrossed in your inability to physically overcome him.

It sent a warm chill down your back- flexed, lingering in another ache between your thighs.

His lips were so soft, and sweet, and light, contrasted well against the slight burn of his stubble.

"Mm-," Asahi sighed, a soft peck to your cheek so he could collect himself, "You're givin' up already?"

The warm spill of his words across your face, plus the thrill of his little challenge, had you squirming, all knotted up and itching for him to give you more than just kisses.

"You--," You tensed at his slow, messy sucking along your jaw, "You-mm! Know I can't move..."

Maybe he was taking pity on you- maybe it was your whiny admission fueling a more licentious desire, inspiring him to let you go so he could start stripping you. You delighted in the chance it gave you to watch his reactions.

Soon, you were fully nude- and he was still fully clothed, with no foreseeable urgency to even the imbalance out.

Instead, he let a hand overlap your waist, eyes still busy scouring over you, "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Dunno," You mumbled, playing with his fingers as you shot a look to his fly, "Maybe you should check."

Your coquettish quip earned a hasty, rough, but amused kiss. You writhed against his weight again, this time with a justifiable anticipation at the sound of him pulling his cock out.

It was hot as it fell against your skin. A welcome feeling of closeness you couldn't get from much else, just being skin to skin with somebody else. It made you feel a bit like melted butter.

He pushed himself up to take his shirt off, all the while examining his length, pushing it down so that he could measure it in relation to your small torso.

"We'll have to, um..." You trailed, a shaky exhale at his burly, tanned physique, "Be.."

The word 'careful' fell apart on your tongue. Now he was measuring his fingers, next to his cock. One hand remained idle wrapped around the bulk of your thigh.

It was indeed fascinating how some body types probably shouldn't try to come together, like you were. Seemed like an evolutionary flaw.

Especially because the look in his eyes was nothing short of carnivorous. It was occasionally batted back by bouts of concern for the logistics of it all.

"I've got a few ideas," He smiled, real handsome, real sweet, down at you.

Curious, you watched all your favorite muscles of his work and relax again as he backed up off of the mattress, standing at the edge of the bed.

In a second, you had been pulled closer, then adjusted in front of him- it left you breathless at the simple ease of it all. You fixed your hair, a glossy and fixated admiration in your gaze up to him.

Awed, you told him in a shaky giggle, "I really like that..."

Asahi leaned over you; a timid and flattered sigh prickling up your skin, "Yeah?"

His rough hands pinched at your hips as he kissed a messy trail down your tummy.

Whispered, just as his knees hit the carpet, "I like it, too."

It was impossible to not get excited. He always stuck you as a guy with more patience than most.

Patient was a good word to describe the way he ate you out-- he may have liked to toss you around, but it wasn't out of carelessness, or negligence. It was an exploration of boundaries, a bit of power play, and this was played right into the dynamic. His performance wasn't perfect, or void of little, silly hiccups, but it was endearing and fun to discover together.

After he got you warmed up, he began slowly, one by one, pushing his fingers into you.

"How's that feel?"

It was a curious, but flirty question.

He already knew how much you were enjoying yourself, how you were trying to keep yourself quiet under your hand, struggling to not roll your hips into his hand. He just wanted to hear you.

A raspy sigh, a distracted nod, "So g-ood--,"

"Takin' me soo well," He grinned, sucking another messy kiss to you, "Y'want another?"

It wasn't exactly audible, but he was watching that sweet, desperate little expression on your face enough to know you did.

You could feel his smile spread- making your thighs flinch, your body curl at the intensity of getting stretched even further.

"You're so cute."

A mumbly admission, buzzing just right onto you. You were so full of him, reeling in how thick three of his fingers were, and dangerously close once he concentrated on your clit.

Soon you were gripping harder, twitching, then squeezing him--, "H-ah-!"

You started begging when nonverbal queues didn't get through.

"Asahi- asahi, please-ah," You huffed, starting to feel your climax rushing in, threatening to take hold of you, "I'm s-o close-!"

You thought he would stop, for favor of dragging this out longer, but he didn't slow down, nor did he let off of you. The only change was his grip tightening, gripping into your skin. A twitch of your thigh, trying to push on him, was met with a powerful pull to keep it far away, to the side and keep you opened up.

The pressure it brought only added to your rapture- he was actively getting off to watching, hearing, feeling you beg for a break. He loved it.

"Mmn-!" Pulling on his hair did you no favors, other than encouraging that slow, constant swirl of his big tongue around your swollen clit.

In the end, the harshness in your brow, in your clawing fingers, your shaky thighs, all softened under his steady hold. He felt so good taking you apart, then bringing you all back together.

Another messy kiss, so sweet- but so mean, shoved you over the steep edge.

He could feel you tighten, pulse around his fingers and filled you to the knuckle; a tipsy, crooked smile barely visible under his working tongue.

It took so long to come out of the throws of your orgasm that he was already back on top, filling the space above you. You quickly locked your legs around him, hands guiding his face up for a kiss.

His knack for multitasking never stopped. You were given so many gentle, attentive kisses as he put you in the center of the bed, where there was finally room for the both of you.

He wanted you on your elbows and knees. Numb, and tingly, and pliable, you let him adjust you the way he wanted; you kept your debaucherous smile to yourself.

You needed every second of that foreplay to take him- he was the biggest you had ever been with. Thankfully, he also happened to be the sweetest.

"Ooh my god," Your trembling was quelled by the weight of his body.

His groan was low, stuttery, at your tight pussy clenching hard all around him.

He caught his breath, a pretty moan in the back of his throat, "Shit."

His praises were loosely strung together, punctuated in little kisses to the back of your head as he placed his elbows on the mattress, at your sides. If he had been watching, he probably wouldn't have lasted very long.

It was getting rough, quickly, but you found his kind attention more than enough to keep you relaxed.

"Mm-!" You muffled a cry, fisting the sheets while he chuckled at how cute all your little sounds were, hungry for more.

In one fluid motion, he had your arms pinned; one was tucked under you, the other was extended far out in front of you. The responsive gasp was more of your body, reacting on its own, but it was an invigorating thing to consider. He was such a timid guy, so every dirty thing he said or did still took you by surprise.

It was just like how you finished your match earlier, with one big difference.

"Mmnh-aAh! Augh-ah-Mm!"

Your surprised, whiny sounds spilled free against the sheets. His cock filled every bit of you- it felt so good your breath was getting shorter, harder to catch.

You couldn't see it, but he drank that messiness up, a furrowed concentration in his brow to keep giving it to you as hard as you needed.

"You like that?" His voice was right in your neck again, buzzed.

It melted your resistance away- you couldn't even squirm, couldn't tell him yes. You were so full, so close already, that when he stalled deep and cruel, to let you think, your euphoria was barely interrupted. You cried, tearless, drooling a little on Daichi's sheets.

"You wanna talk to me, sweetie?"

The kindness in his voice right now should've been illegal. You breath was getting shaky, your vision long since useless.

"T-ell me-mm, how it feels," He muttered, still egging you on, a kiss to the tip of your ear.

His voice fell away from you, your heart pounding in your ears- you were just swimming in delectation. His warmth, his sure delivery of careful pleasure, his gravelly, well-meaning taunts. It was starting to take you far away, for the first time.

You noticed, but didn't react to his retracting hands, nor the readjustment of his weight off of you.

He was deeply troubled that you hadn't responded to him.

If Asahi had been any more experienced or confident, he would've known the clear signs of subspace-- but considering his experience ended at some casual sex, and the absence of conversation, and not understanding of either of your limits, he thought he fucked up, bad.

You were just different. That made him nervous.

Concern laced his voice quick, a sobering sound.

"Hey?" There were a couple taps to your cheek, and when you got your focus back, he was bending to try to get a good look at your face.

You gave a weak smile, "Mm?"

"You okay?"

A big stretch, an otherwise silly invitation for him to put his hands back on top of yours, "Mmmmhm..."

The way you sat back a little, pushing yourself gently onto his cock, made him take a second. A quick moment to suck in a restrained breath. Then a reserved, relieved chuckle.

"Are you- sure?" Was his last attempt. Now he was noticing the shakiness from your legs, your irregular breathing.

He put a tiny peck to your temple, fingers carefully running over your side.

You gave a close-mouthed whine and winced away at the ticklish sensation, "God-- Just fuck me please,"

When he was watching where to put his hands, he noticed your wiggly fingers, and grinned- happy to take you up on the offer, again.

He met your light pushing with stronger, steady strokes that kept you gasping- whiny, with pleasure.

Your endurance was absolute garbage, when it came to his unconventional way of treating you. Neither of you were expecting it to click so well- not as just-friends, for years, with on-and-off separate partners and countless, ill-timed crushes on each other.

It was amusing to think of how different this would make your 'friendship' now. How could you tell the team you were dating, after they watched what was essentially half of your foreplay downstairs?

This orgasm washed over you in shorter, smaller waves than the first- but it took so long to fully crest that it felt a thousand years longer.

You weren't particularly loud, this time, but now that he was paying so much attention to you, he spoke you through it with unparalleled timing.

"Good, fuck- that's good," He sighed, huffy, in your ear.

His hand quickly clasped over your mouth before you could make a sound.

Though you felt so perfect, the little scare you gave him warded off any chance he had at cumming, too. It'd have to wait for some other time. The satisfaction from getting you to this point was more than enough payoff for him.

"Good girl."

You had never felt so disconnected from your own body before. It was like you felt your climax about two rooms down the hall- and all it left you with was some invisible, heavy blanket all across your limbs.

For all that was worth, it was pretty cool.

His quiet shushing, all in your ear, was the evidence you needed that you hadn't been entirely present. You weren't sure when he started and when he stopped.

"You're okay- you're okay," He cooed, thumb gently brushing your warm cheek.

He held you incredibly still, listening, watching, for you, before pulling out.

You felt like a heavy bag of sand.

In fact, after he had shifted slowly off you and leaned closer, the way you slumped down was akin to one. Maybe more of a bag of concrete mix, instead.

It was staggering to believe your sweet, silly, nervous Asahi took it out of you, like that.

"You okay?" He was ultra-gentle, now, sliding featherlight touches over your back.

It was just enough to keep you awake.

"(Y/n)?"

You didn't realize you needed to respond. A slow, laborious sigh. You opened your eyes and were surprised to see him, once again, leaning over you to watch your face.

"Yeah..."

It didn't convince him- he looked like he was going to call an ambulance.

"I'm- tired," You went to push yourself up.

The intense quivering in your arms stopped you. Having to push back against him for so long was exhausting, and now you were completely spent. You wondered if it had anything to do with the little fight earlier, too.

He shook his head when he noticed you try to move on your own again, "Nono, I got you."

For the millionth time tonight, his ability to pick you up, from whatever position he found himself in, left you in a delighted daze. He set you so that you at least had a pillow under your head.

"You need some water? Let me go get some for you real quick."

You did feel pretty dried up. Like a dead, frail flower.

A tiny nod, and he was rushing to put on enough clothes, zipping out the door in search of water. You fell asleep in the short time he was gone, too sleepy to pull the covers over you or to roll to your side.

"Mmh..."

It had only been a minute or so.

But you felt a thousand years old, getting woken up from an ancient slumber, when a soft throw blanket was covering you- a big, gentle hand over top of it, rubbing your shoulder to rouse you.

Asahi settled to your side, watched closely as you drank, and pressed more kisses to the side of your head. He reached over you to set the bottle on the bedside table.

"Thank you," You leaned into him, then decided to give him a little edge of the blanket, too, and rested your head on his chest, "I'm okay."

"Good."

He was warm. You squeezed an arm over him.

"How are we gonna tell everyone?" You mumbled, against his tummy.

"I-... don't think we need to."

Confused at what he meant by that, you stopped trying to burrow into him, and propped up a little to look him in the face.

"Uh-," He tilted his head from side to side, a little warmth on his tan features, "We weren't...exactly...quiet."

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[mistyorchid]

Meet-Cute (Ch. 3)

Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

summary: You and Logan relax during a particularly hot summer day, engaging in "parallel play" together. An innocent hangout quickly gets heated after he overhears a nsfw Twitter video blaring from your phone. Goddamn auto play. Ch. 1 Ch. 2 warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, established relationship, age gap, reader is 21+, oral fixation, praise kink, oral (male!receiving), light d/s, pet names (bub, baby, babe, daddy, good/dirty girl, princess), size kink, slapping (referenced + explicit), cum play. wc: 3.6k

Logan kept his promise. Well, you didn't go on a million more dates, but the time you spent together stretched the meaning of time itself. They started as singular outings; with early nights overlapping into early mornings. It didn't take long until your dates morphed into week-long "hangouts" at his place.

You willingly uprooted your life for Logan after a year of dating, packing your world into cardboard boxes and weaving it into the fabric of his home. The only thing you missed was the in-unit air conditioner that cooled your tiny apartment. It turns out that summers are unbearable when you live in a smelting plant.

The metal walls and poor insulation transform your makeshift studio into a furnace. Oil paint fumes waft upwards from the canvas, aggravating a migraine that slowly travels from the top of your head to your temples. In an attempt to preserve your sanity, you rapidly untie the paint-stained apron and storm out of the studio.

Beads of sweat trickle into your cleavage, gathering at the underwire of your bra. You tear it off somewhere between the kitchen and the living room; you can't be bothered to pick it up from the floor. Maybe Logan will stumble upon it and stash it away, an uncharacteristically pervy habit that he thinks goes unnoticed.

"I'm melting, Logan. Save me!" You slump into the couch, dramatically grazing your forehead with the back of your hand to mimic a damsel in distress. Logan lowers his newspaper to acknowledge your presence. Cigar smoke billows from his mouth; the inky tendrils momentarily fogging his glasses.

"Not much I can do, bub. Fan just died," He explains, tilting his nose towards the archaic floor fan. An annoyed grumble escapes your lips as you move to the end of the couch, relaxing your head against the armrest and stretching out like a starfish. Logan shifts the paper to one hand to lightly caress your ankle.

You stare at the ceiling, mentally conjuring metallic constellations by connecting the bolts and welds. It takes five minutes for you to snap your eyes shut in defeat. Although you normally accept boredom as a challenge—a testament to your imagination, the sweltering heat makes it difficult to think.

Logan quirks his brow, sensing your exhaustion. "You're such a baby. It's barely ninety in here." You shake his palm off your leg and draw your knees toward your stomach, creating a makeshift boundary against his feigned judgment. "Barely ninety? Don't piss me off," You laugh, reaching for your phone on the coffee table.

Parallel play is new to Logan. He tends to isolate himself, preferring to spend his leisure time alone. When you introduced the concept to him, he dismissed you with an eye roll that bordered on sassy instead of annoyed. "You getting this from your Tick-Tock-whatever the fuck?"

"Let's be alone together," You reasoned. He’s enjoyed these moments of domesticity ever since.

Your index finger lingers above the touchscreen, debating which app will distract you from the heat. The comforting feeling of Logan's hand returning to your ankle inspires you to open Twitter. Your body is slowly relaxing and you want your brain to follow suit.

Logan cherishes your laugh as you stumble upon a hilarious tweet. You scroll further, settling on a video that displays a pitch-black screen. Assuming it was an edit, you wait for a transition to reveal a montage from a show you liked, or an incredibly depressing edit of Kendall Roy. Those always seemed to invade your TikTok for-you page around 3 am.

Your jaw drops when it fades into the unmistakable sight of an amateur porn video. It depicts a woman on her knees, presumably filmed by her partner. The man slaps his cock on her tongue before slowly inching the tip into her eager mouth. "That's a good girl, drool on my cock," the faceless man praises.

The video had been relatively silent until that moment.

Nothing could have prepared you for the high-pitched moan that traveled from the girl's throat and out of your phone's speaker. You were ambushed. Logan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, pointedly refusing to react to the noise. "I'm reading the paper, and you're watching porn?"

"I didn't click on it, I scrolled, I—" you threw your phone onto the couch, crossing your arms over your eyes to shield your flustered cheeks. "—Ugh! whatever." Your embarrassment provides Logan ample time to grab your phone as he quickly unlocks it and scrolls back to the source of the moan.

Auto-play resumes, suddenly filling the room with the sound of more slapping. "Please give it to me, Daddy! Promise I'll be good for you," the woman pleads in an exaggerated falsetto. Logan shoves the phone in front of your face, forcing you to acknowledge the video.

"You into this shit?" He asks, invading your mortified posture to push your arms away from your face. His knee slots in between your stretched legs, effectively caging you in. "I asked you a fuckin' question." His gruff tone would have scared you if it wasn’t accompanied by the slight upward curve of his mouth.

Logan's cock throbs as his eyes linger on your gaping mouth. You were reacting appropriately, dropping your jaw in shock. All Logan could think about was how your plush lips formed a perfect "o," similar to the woman on the screen.

"I plead the fifth," You huff, narrowing your eyes and reaching out to pause the video. Logan clicks his tongue while mocking you, shaking his head side-to-side. "It's in your feed. Doesn't that mean you are into this shit?"

Fuck. You regretted explaining social media algorithms to Logan. It was an act of charity, showing an old man how to use the "interwebs," as he first called it. He'd still have a flip phone if you didn't explain why only drug dealers and Y2K-obsessed tweens used them.

You push Logan's knee forward, making him momentarily lose his balance. He falls on top of you, the full weight of his adamantium-plated bones pressing you firmly into the couch. Logan's heart drops in his chest as he sees you shut your eyes in pain. "Oh my god, I-" He uses his elbow to twist away from your chest, landing on the floor with a comically loud thunk.

He groans with the force of the fall and immediately regrets landing on his back. The scarred planes had already been traumatized by decades of recklessness, but his old age further weakened their tenacity.

"I'm sorry, babe. You okay?" He slowly rises to his feet, grimacing when he hears his joints creak under the weight. Logan uses the edge of the coffee table to stand up fully. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," You squeak, unable to meet his worried stare. When he fell on your chest, you could feel his bulge through the thin cotton boxers.

Two can play that game.

You fail to stifle a giggle as Logan waves his hand in a sweeping motion in front of your face. "You sure I didn't hurt you? Seems like you're in shock," He asks, genuinely concerned with your well-being.

"You're hard," You state, fixated on the prominent tent in his boxers. Logan is a cocky motherfucker; he rests his hands on his hips and slightly leans backward, emphasizing the bulge.

"Yeah? So what? I’m always hard when you wear those shorts. Makes me feel like a fuckin’ teenager." He smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of your flustered face. His nostrils subtly flex and you can tell he smells how wet you are for him. It's simultaneously embarrassing and empowering unraveling for Logan—you feel so timid under the heavy weight of his gaze, yet so brazenly sensual.

“Know what I think?” You drawl, shifting from your position on the couch to stand before Logan. His broad frame would be intimidating if he weren’t so gentle with you. Only you. Sunset filters through the lace curtains you installed last summer to soften the hostile industrial space. Soft, indeed. The living room is swathed in an amber glow, and so is Logan’s face. The light tenderly traces each wrinkle and scar—decorations gifted by the tedious passing of time. Your calves burn as you rise on your toes, lips grazing the shell of his ear.

You grasp his strong shoulders to stabilize yourself before whispering, “I think you’re secretly into this, too.” Logan turns his head away from you, closing his eyes to conceal how much your words affect him. He’s confused when he feels you rake your palms against his chest, only opening his eyes when your hand catches on the waistband of his boxers.

Logan’s a man of few words. Your unabashed look of adoration combined with your position on the floor stole any he could use to disagree.

“What’s the matter, Daddy? Cat got your tongue?” You lean forward, tenderly nuzzling your cheek against his leg. 

“Jesus,” Logan mumbles, tentatively reaching down to pet the top of your head. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Don’t call me that.” The gravel of his voice triggers a dull throbbing in your core. It was easy to unravel for him because he never demanded your submission. He earned it by respecting your mind and body, nurturing it like a fragile orchid that could wither if handled without care. 

You strain your neck to peer into his eyes. He tugs on your roots before tenderly tracing your bottom lip—a silent betrayal of his plea. “Why, you don’t like it? I’ll stop if you don’t,” You reason, allowing him to admire your plush lips. A ragged groan escapes him as he watches you suck his callused thumb into your hot mouth before releasing it with an audible pop.

“It’s not that, I just—” His words die in his throat as you pull the hem of his boxers down, tugging the elastic until you can feel his hard cock bob on your face. You gently stroke his length before pressing your cheek against it, smiling against his warmth. “I don’t wanna ruin you any more than I already have,” He chokes. The doubt written on Logan’s face kills you. You’re suddenly on your feet again and Logan’s cock can’t help but twitch at the absence of your hot breath. 

“Stop it. I hate when you say shit like that.” Logan resists the urge to clench his eyes shut. He hates it when you look at him like he’s a puzzle you’re eager to solve. “All you’ve done is give me everything I’ve ever wanted,” You sigh, reaching on your toes to burrow your head into the crook of his neck. 

Logan wallowed in self-deprecation like it was his job. The age gap between you both was a recurring theme of past arguments. He often distanced himself whenever you begged to ride him, gazing sympathetically into his eyes as you felt his thrusts falter. 

You cherished it.

He could be bandaging your knee after a bad fall in the studio and then spanking your ass until it matched the deep purple and red hues mixed on your palette. The duality drove you crazy. Logan knew exactly when to nurture you and when to fulfill your desire to be taken, worn down; he masterfully chipped away at the facade of your resolve until you were pliant in his rough embrace.

“Besides, ‘Daddy’s just a term of endearment. Same as baby, doll . . . my girl.” You whisper, teasingly nipping his earlobe. “I love being your girl.”

Logan’s hesitation breaks at that, planting a chaste kiss on your neck and inhaling the comforting scent of your hair. You smelled like home.

“Can you get on your knees for me, baby?”

The subtle command ignites a tender ache in your bones—you’re suddenly slinking down his form and bracing against the cool concrete. This must be how people felt when the first skyscraper was built. The towering mass of his body is deliciously intimidating; you’re at his feet, worshipping the foundation of an idol that refuses to be honored.

His hips jut forward as you teasingly lick the head of his cock in short, cat-like strokes. You indulge in his flesh, roaming the hard planes of his thighs and caressing the black tendrils around the base. Something in Logan breaks when you pause to gently kiss the tip while peering up at him through your fluttering lashes. 

“Give me your phone,” He commands. You were too embarrassed to admit how much you craved this side of him. Your back strains with your sudden movement to reach behind you, knocking little knick-knacks on the coffee table as you fumble for the phone. 

Logan’s cock twitches as you hurriedly unlock it before presenting it to him like a pup offering its owner a bone. “I, uh—” His voice hitches when you place your hands on your thighs; your arched back pushing the swell of your breasts against his legs. “I need you to open the camera app for me.”

A teasing smirk overpowers your once coy visage. “Sure thing, Daddy.” You strain to reach the phone, quickly swiping to find the cute camera icon. He’s purposefully not bridging the distance. 

He’s making you work for it.

Logan reverses the camera before angling it in front of your face. “Repeat what she said.” His hooded eyes follow your dumbfounded expression, lingering on the inviting expanse of your lips. You stutter as Logan’s thumb traces dizzying patterns on your open mouth, dipping in quickly to collect your spit.

“Pl- please give it to me, Daddy . . . promise I'll be good for you,” You drawl, satisfied now that you could feel Logan in your mouth. Your face is inches away from his hard cock and you can’t help but admire how fucking pretty he is. When he’s worked up like this, his cock resembles an enticing red lollipop, shiny with the glaze of your spit. The line between your internal thoughts and external babbles blurs as you murmur, “Wanna suck you off so badly. Need to taste you.” 

“What was that, bub?” He props up your chin with his finger, helping you focus on his hazel eyes. He shifts the phone into his left hand before firmly grabbing the base of his cock with his right to lightly slap your cheek. “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” He growls, snapping you out of your horny reverie.

Your voice is meek and airy, a familiar sign that you’re falling further into a comfortable haze. There were no labels to describe your relationship, but you both fostered a nurturing pattern of dominance and submission—often smudging the lines whenever necessary. At this moment, all you wanted was to surrender to him.

“I need to suck your cock, Daddy.” You smirk as it bobs almost subconsciously, leaving dribbles of precum on your cheek.

“Good girl. Fuck.” The praise lures a wanton moan out of your throat that sends pleasant vibrations throughout Logan’s body. You slowly inch the tip in, eagerly spreading his precum around the head with your tongue. Heavy, thick, and wet. So unbelievably wet.

Logan’s stifled growls encourage you to grasp the heft of his cock with both hands. You often joked that jerking him off would give you arthritis in your right hand; the stamina needed to twist up and down his length utterly exhausted you.

His eyebrows knit together in pleasure, a silent love letter to your unabashed yearning to soothe him—in mind, body, and spirit. You adore Logan like this, all bark and no bite. 

“So fuckin’ needy, hm?” You peer up at him through your lashes, focusing on the subtle twitch of his nostrils. “Just the tip and you’re already a mess,” He chuckles. Although you’ve enjoyed each other’s company for a few years, a warm blush always manages to reveal how flustered you get whenever Logan smells your arousal. The strained moans that tumble out of his throat ignite a dull throbbing sensation in your core.

Logan opens his eyes when he realizes your hands have left his cock, eager to scold you (lovingly, of course.) He thrusts into your mouth as he’s greeted by the sight of you desperately toying with your clit, pausing here and there to slap against the sensitive bud. 

You can barely think. Pleasure transforms into a tangible gift, tied off with a voluminous red bow. The pressure to open the box is removed—you’re content with admiring the details of its exterior, swirling your fingers on the silky textile and getting lost in the feeling.

“Ah—Logan! I’m gonna— fuck, I—” You stutter, unable to string together words into a sensible arrangement. Logan slowly thrusts deeper into your hot mouth, reuniting your nose with the coarse hair around the base.

He pulls back slightly when you gag around him. Your pussy flutters as you feel his cock harden at the involuntary sound, somehow stretching your mouth even more. “I know, baby,” Logan sighs, gently wiping away your tears. “Shhh . . . you can take it.”

Every time your mouth swallows his entire length, you dart your tongue out to playfully coat his heavy balls with spit. You’re acting like a bitch in heat—as if the thought of living without the taste of Logan’s cock would be futile. Realistically, you knew that the masculine salt of him on your tongue served as a reminder of his tangible presence in your life, a presence that was meaningful, nurturing, and everlasting.

“That’s a good girl. Drool on Daddy’s cock,” Logan praises, adapting the line from the video.

Your release is sudden and impactful. The shaky tone of your cries corresponds with the shakiness of Logan’s hand. His knuckles turn white as he struggles to hold the phone upright.

“Oh my god, oh my god, mmmm!—” You moan, muffled by the delicious drag of Logan’s cock. “Ah—I’m coming, fuck . . .” Your swollen clit pulses as your thighs cave inwards, pushing you even closer to the hilt.

He comes immediately following your orgasm, finding your fucked-out expression unbelievably attractive and haunting. Thick ropes of cum flood your mouth and you can feel his cock twitch when your eyes meet. A rough cacophony of moans and grunts breaks free from Logan’s chest.

You look utterly ruined. Swollen lips still stretching around his girth, tears etched onto the flustered apples of your cheeks. “As beautiful as you look right now, I need to pull out, baby.”

You’re desperately trying to taste more cum from his weeping slit, but Logan manages to push away from you with a dramatic hiss. His jaw falls when he watches you emphasize the act of swallowing his cum.

“My dirty girl,” He drawls, pleased when you stick out your tongue as proof. You want the echo of Logan’s thick cock slapping onto your tongue to be ingrained in your mind. It doesn’t take long for him to explode again. You help him along, breathlessly stroking the plush stiffness of his cock and looking up at him with sinfully soulful eyes.

The first streak lands on your lips. Logan’s head rolls back as he mindlessly ruts forward, painting your entire face with hot cum.

He returns to earth when you press chaste licks to the tip once again. “Holy shit, there’s so much cum, I’m sorry—” Logan apologizes, stunned by the masterpiece he’s created. His release drips down the sloping facade of your cheekbones before landing on your cheeks and lips. You quickly dart out your tongue to taste him.

“Don’t be, Daddy. Can you give me some more?” You plead, batting your eyelashes. Logan pauses the recording and  tosses the phone onto the couch. Before you can process why, you hear a loud thunk on the concrete.

Logan kneels in front of you to match your position on the floor. He reaches out to brush your hair away from your face, studying the white marks adorning your skin.

“You’re so pretty with my cum on your face,” He sighs. Your eyes widen when he reaches down, dragging two thick fingers through your sensitive folds. Then, he swipes the same fingers through his cum before bringing them to his lips and sucking gently.

He closes his eyes, truly indulging in the delicacy of your love. “Mmm. We taste so good together, baby. Wanna try?” You nod earnestly, biting your lip to dampen your whimpers. Logan repeats the process, in awe of the way you lean into his touch.

Logan doesn’t register that you’re falling until he’s sprawled out on the cool concrete floor with your tits cushioned against his chest. He’s quick to check on you, stunned by the sudden movement.

“You okay, princess? What happened?” Worry is framed by the wrinkles between his brows.

“Mhm, Logan. Daddy. We do taste good together,” You confirm, feeling pleasantly overwhelmed yet supported against the solid foundation of his body.

Logan kisses you sweetly, wrapping his broad arms around you to stabilize your torso. “It’s a lot cooler on the floor, baby. Gotta clean you up, I’ll be right back.” You whine as he gently rolls over to lay you on the floor before walking towards the kitchen.

After picking up a nearby towel and wetting it under the faucet, Logan almost slips on something on his way back to the living room.

The familiar heart pattern of the bra makes the corners of his mouth turn upwards; it’s satisfying knowing that you left these out for him rather than randomly forgetting a thong here and a lacey bralette there. You were deliberately feeding into his desires and he loved you for it.

You both played the game of life together, and Logan wouldn’t want it any other way.

an: I heard it's someone's bday today . . . I hope they never read this but consider Meet Cute Ch. 3 my gift to all of you. Thanks for being so patient, I know it's been a while. FYI I imagine the character whenever I'm writing, not the actor. Hope everyone has a great weekend.

tag list: @bratscave @elflutter @fairiebabey @pointyxsole @scorpiosaintt @th3mrskory

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Safest with You (Ch. 9 - The Dam Breaks)

6K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Din finally comes upstairs and <see above gif>.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please; for serious, this is the first chapter in the "main" series that is explicit.) Porn with feelings, but it’s still 93.2% porn: unprotected PiV sex (discussed), multiple orgasms, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, they sort of... "make love"? Sorry for the ick but let's call a spade a spade, kissing, dirty talk, a wee bit of daddy kink, dipping their toes into a light degradation kink, tons of petnames as usual (baby, pretty bird, sweet girl, sweetheart, etc.)

A/N: I'm sorry for this gif. I'm sorry for all of it.

Two other thoughts: First, I said somewhere else that I think writing smut takes practice, and I still consider myself to be in the practice stage - I hope it's enjoyable, but I feel like I have room for improvement. Second, totally understand if you've been reading this series for the fluff and maybe this isn't your bag (thus far, the smut has been contained to the separate one-shots and drabbles); that's okay, feel free to skip this one! I concede this is a lot of boinking, but that’s sort of what the story, and specifically this chapter, has been building to. In future chapters, there will probably be more of a mix (plot, fluff, angst, smut) 👍🏻

Series Masterlist

It’s the hottest elevator ride of your life.  The second the doors start to close, shielding you from your lobby guard’s view, you and Din move towards each other.  Din reaches you first and crashes his mouth to yours with a force that pushes you against the moving elevator’s walls, knocking the air out of your lungs.  Barely allowing you the moment you need to breathe properly, Din continues his invasion of your mouth, tongue massaging yours in hard, long strokes; his hands moving with similar urgency, moving up and down your sides.  When his thumbs flick over your nipples, you let out a catastrophic groan and your legs give out a little; lucky for you, Din has no problem holding you up.  Mouth never leaving yours, Din crosses your wrists over your head, holding them with one hand while sliding his free hand down to your ass.  Already arching into him from this new position, you buck into Din’s thigh when you feel him grab a fistful of one ass cheek and squeeze.

Chuckling, Din gives you a little lick on the neck beneath your ear, “Eager, aren’t we?  Don’t worry, pretty bird, I’ll give you what you need.”

Before you can respond, the elevator doors open with a ding, and you’ve never been more relieved to see the empty hallway of your floor and not the scandalized face of some poor unsuspecting neighbour.  Pausing only to pick up the dog leash that you dropped when Din had you pinned, you practically drag him by the hand to your door.

Once inside, you busy yourself with Al’s nighttime ritual (fresh bowl of water, dental chew), leaving Din free to take in your apartment.  The front foyer opens immediately to an open concept space so he can see clear across a living room area that’s adorn with perfectly complimentary furniture, all the way to the floor to ceiling windows lining a balcony that runs across the length of the unit.  To the right is a spacious kitchen, with a generous island littered with cooking tools and appliances.  Dog accessories make an appearance in every free nook and cranny, leaving no doubt who rules the roost here.  Just from this cursory look, Din can tell that you personally picked every piece of furniture, décor and small touch in your apartment; everything has a clean, calm aesthetic, and yet, is brimming with a welcoming energy.  From the overflowing bookshelf, to the cozy blanket thrown over the arm chair, to the vases of fresh flowers, it’s all so you.  It doesn’t surprise him that you have a keen eye for decoration and aesthetics; to him, everything you touch is made better.  You watch Din’s eyes sweep over your home; you’re immensely proud of this space and the home you’ve made for yourself and Al, and it brings you joy to share your happy place, your safe space with those you care about.  Looking at this hulk of a man standing in your front entrance, you feel a warmth in your heart at how much he already looks like he belongs here; and you’re suddenly very aware of how much space there is between the two of you.  Din catches your eye and taking in your pensive look, gives you a little smirk with a tilt of his head, “Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart.”

Crossing the room with embarrassing speed, you nearly leap into his waiting arms; Din catches you with ease and cups his hands under your ass, lifting you so you can cross your legs behind his back and resume kissing him eagerly.  God he is so big, and so… strong, you internally swoon as he easily walks the both of you over to the couch.  He sits himself down gently, and you unwrap your legs so you’re now straddling Din’s lap, staying on your knees so that you have a height advantage for once.  Threading your fingers through his hair, you can feel the tension that has been building up since your first coffeeshop meeting ready to snap; peppering Din’s jaw with light kisses, you hum in his ear, “Want you to ruin me, Din.”

With a growl, Din helps you pull your sweatshirt over your head, “Let’s get you out of these clothes, pretty bird.”  Leaning back to admire you in your lace bra, sitting so pretty on top of him, he murmurs, “Even better than my dreams.”

“You dream about me, Djarin?”

Din starts to kiss down the column of your neck, making his way to your chest, “Every night, pretty bird.”

You sigh as he reaches the top of your breasts, his hands cupping them from underneath to push the supple flesh up into his mouth.  As Din devours everywhere you’re exposed with an open mouth, his hands greedily grope your tits, and you throw you head back in pleasure unable to hold back your moans, “Oh, oh, Din.  Din.  That feels so good. Right there, baby.”

Hands moving to roll your nipples between his fingers over the lace fabric, Din murmurs between mouthfuls, “Right here, sweetheart?  You like it when I touch you through this pretty lace?  Don’t think I didn’t recognize this bra, baby girl.  This little triangle right here,” he bites down on the left cup of your bra where the lace fabric meets the strap and tugs with his teeth so that your strap slides down your shoulder and the lace cup falls away from your chest, “has been torturing me for the last month.”  Just like the night he saw his first peek of this lingerie set, Din is finding its teasing effect on him to be irresistible as he moves his mouth to cover what the fallen lace reveals.

With Din’s face fully buried in your chest, you run your fingers through his hair and hold him close while arching your self into him, needing to get impossibly close to this man; his mouth is setting you on fire and his hands are roaming over your body, caressing and electrifying you with every touch.  And yet, you need more.  More of his tongue, his hands, his words, more, more, more.

Din momentarily pulls you out of your daze, “You wear this just for me, pretty bird?”

You look down at Din and see he already looks as desperate as you feel.  You nod and add hesitantly, “Just for you… daddy,” deciding in the moment to try out the petname.  It’s not something you’ve used a lot with past partners, but for some reason, maybe it’s his size, his protective nature, or just the way you want to give yourself over to Din to let him handle you, the moniker fits; even when you would touch yourself to the thought of him, you would always come to the thought of daddy.

Din grins as he takes your now wet nipple back into his mouth, “Is that what you did, baby?  Wrap yourself up like a present for daddy?”

“Mmmhhh god yes,” you whimper; hearing him call himself daddy and pick up on the way you like dirty talk is causing a fresh wave of arousal to seep out of you, “Do you want to unwrap me, Din?”

Before Din even starts to nod, you climb off of his lap and stand right between his spread legs, shimmying down your pants to reveal the matching black panties. 

Din thinks he might pass out.  He has no idea what he’s done to deserve you serving yourself up to him like a perfectly wrapped gift; the coy and almost shy look you’re giving him right now as he takes in your pretty form is tapping into something wild and feral inside of him.  Reaching for you, he hooks two fingers into the band of your underwear as soon as you’re close enough and yanks you into him.  You laugh as you fall onto Din, his strong arms catching and pulling you on top of him so his lips can return to your chest again.  Your laughter quickly turns into needy whimpers as Din mouths and paws at you and you hear his filthy words vibrating against your skin, “Gonna take you apart, pretty girl.  Gonna have you screaming my name when you come on my mouth, my fingers, my cock.  You’re not going to remember your own name, baby – you’ll only know mine.”

You whine as Din growls again, “Mine,” and presses you down to grind on his lap.  You can feel his hardness straining against his pants as you chase after the delicious friction it provides, face warm with embarrassment at the mess your soaked panties must be making of his pants.

“Din, please…”

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

“…more.  I need more, daddy,” you plead.

Din leaves a hand gripping your hip to help you build a grinding rhythm while his other hand moves between your bodies and trails down to your underwear.  Rubbing his fingers over the fabric, he finds you drenched, “So fucking wet, pretty bird.  You soak through these pretty panties just for me?”

By now, you’re panting into Din’s neck, so worked up you think you might scream if he doesn’t touch you soon, “Yes, oh yes, Din… all for you.  Pussy is dripping for you.  Need you to touch me, please, please.”

“So beautiful and sexy, and now polite, too.  Such good manners, saying please so pretty like that.  Don’t worry, baby doll, daddy will give you what you need,” pushing aside the lace to reveal your slick covered cunt, Din slides his fingers through your slit with purposeful strokes; repeatedly dipping his fingers in to explore your hole before spreading your wetness all over, leaving you flushed and squirming in his lap – somehow getting what you wanted has left you even needier than ever.

Gathering what small amount of self agency you have left, you force yourself to shift away from Din’s hand and straighten up to start unbuttoning Din’s shirt; with each undone button, you spread open the fabric and kiss the newly exposed part of his chest, taking in Din’s low moans as you explore his body with your hands and mouth.  When the expanse of his hard chest is before you, you step off of his lap and lean over Din to admire his impressive physique.  He’s unfathomably large, somehow even more so underneath his clothes, a solid wall of muscles no doubt well developed during his days as a boxer; running your hands over his build and trailing light kisses down his chest, you think that perhaps he’s a little softer now (especially around his tummy area), and you much prefer it that way.  In your explorations of Din’s body, you discover several scars of varying size and shapes, no doubt from long by-gone fights.  While you don’t linger, you run your tongue over the smooth, puckered skin, kissing each scar before moving on, as if to make better the injury that has long healed; Din looks down to watch you leave your loving touch on all the parts of his body where violence has marked him and feels his chest tighten at your tenderness.  In this moment he thinks that maybe, maybe, you’re the grace that’s meant to right all his wrong doings; his very own goddamn angel.

By the time you reach the last shirt button, your mouth is watering and you’ve successfully worked yourself up to stratospheric levels, actually feeling your slick dripping down to your inner thighs.  Along with the button, you also undo Din’s belt and pants then slowly sink down to your knees in front of his spread legs, before looking up at him with want.

Holy shit. Din thinks he could come just from the sight of you kneeling before him, lips swollen, lace bra half off with pretty tits on display for him, pupils blown wide with a mix of lust and playfulness.  He lifts himself slightly so you can pull down his boxers and pants, and when his hard cock springs out with a bounce, he sees your eyes widen and you bite your bottom lip while sharply inhaling.  With amusement, he lets you busy yourself with taking off his pants fully and watches as your brow furrows with a tinge of worry.  He wants to soothe away your concern and tell you how bad he wants you in this moment, but the ability to form words seems to have escaped him.

When you come face to face with his impressive length again, you lock eyes with Din before breathing his name, breath fanning his dick and drawing a low groan from his throat; encouraged, you cup his balls with one hand, gently grasp his base with your other, and ready by pointing his tip towards your mouth.

Gingerly kissing the swollen head and kitten licking away the bead of precum seeping out of his slit, you coo, “Daddy it’s too big,” giving him a doe-eyed look of apprehension.  As good as you look and feel, floating your soft breath over his leaking cock, Din’s impatience and hunger override all his other sense and he has to have you now.  Leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and hungry, he directs you off your knees with his strong arms, murmuring, “Don’t worry, pretty bird.  You can take it; I have to taste you now to make it fit, okay?”  You start to whine in protest, but as Din maneuvers you so that you’ve switched positions, you forget about the injustice of having being denied taking his cock in your mouth when you see Din’s eyes darken at the sticky mess between your legs.  Kissing your inner thighs as he peels off your lace panties, Din chuckles, “Did the idea of sucking daddy’s cock get you all worked up, sweetheart? You’ll have plenty of chances to take me in that sweet mouth of yours.  Not right now though, I need to get you ready for me.  Need to fuck you.” You at moan at his words, then gasp his name when he dives into you without warning like a man starved.

The obscene noises that Din makes as he licks your pussy and slurps your wetness fill the room and accompany the melody of your cries above him.  Grabbing his hair for purchase, your legs shake from pleasure so much that Din hooks an arm under your thigh to open you up even more and uses that hand to press you down so you can’t move.  “Taste so good, so sweet,” Din mutters and the vibrations of his baritone voice course all the way to your chest and you let out a wail, “Daddy, daddy, daddy.. oh fuc-!” Releasing one of your hands from Din’s curls to cover your mouth, Din reaches up with breathtaking speed and pulls your hand down.  With his mouth still pressed against your folds and nose nudging your clit, he purrs, “Want to hear you, baby.  Wanna hear what I do to you.”  Again, his words reverberate through you and electrify every pleasure point in your body so that you have no choice but to mindlessly grope your breasts and arch you back; if he wants to hear you, he’ll hear you:

“Fuck, daddy, that feels so good. Love your mouth on me.”

“Don’t stop, Din.  Need you, been waiting for you to tear me apart for so long.”

“Din. Din. Din… please, fuck, you’re so good at this… so good to me.”

“Please, oh god, please.  Daddy, I want to come all over your face, please daddy, daddy please let me come. Ahhhhhhh…”

Spurned on by your praise, Din bares down on you to lick one last hard stripe against your seam before taking your clit in his mouth and sucking.  Not giving you anytime to recover from the change in pressure, he presses in a thick finger all the way into your cunt, before quickly adding a second.  It’s too much, too much, you practically sob, as Din stretches you out and pushes you closer and closer to the brink.  “Baby, you can take it, gotta stretch this pussy out so my cock can wreck it,” he growls as his fingers pump into you with a quickening pace.  Your heartbeat starts to race as you feel your orgasm building in your lower belly; you’re writhing in Din’s hold, chanting non-stop incoherent ramblings of pleasure when he adds a third finger without warning – the added pressure brings a bite of pain that hurtles you over the edge, coming with a scream of Din’s name.

Din slows down his fingers, but keeps in all three, continuing to finger fuck you and lap at your sensitive clit until your whole body stops buzzing.

“Daddy…” you sigh, opening your eyes as Din rises, mouth and chin still shiny with your slick, and closes in for a kiss.  Cupping his face to help wipe away the evidence of your arousal, you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as a fresh wave of warmth washes over you.  Still pliant and fuzzy from your orgasm, you let Din lay you down on the couch before he straightens himself up to remove his shirt and jacket; after folding them over neatly at the other end of the couch, Din turns back and braces his arm on the back of the couch to tower his naked form over you.  Fuck.  He belongs in a museum.  Mouth agape at the breathtaking sight above you, your legs part of their own accord, beckoning him. 

Planting himself between your open legs, Din pulls the cups of your lacy bra down with his fingers and your breasts fall into his hands; leaning in close, he whispers, “Wanna see these gorgeous tits bounce when I fuck you, pretty bird,” and as if on autopilot, you prop yourself up on your elbows, giving Din access to the clasp.  After sliding your bra down your arms and tossing it away, Din marvels at your naked body before him; he needs to fuck you like he needs air.  In a moment of miraculous clarity, he whispers, “Baby, do you have a condom?”

Suddenly shy, despite the ache of your cunt, you let Din know, “I’m clean… if you want, Din, you can fuck me bare?”

“Shit, pretty bird.  I’m clean, too. You sure?”

“Wanna feel you, daddy.”

“I swear you’ll be the death of me, baby,” he reveres, leaning down to capture your mouth in a breathtaking kiss. 

“Din,” you whimper, “please… need you… please, fuck me.”

“I’m here, I’m here… such a needy slut.”

You gasp, and for a second, Din wonders if maybe he’s taken the dirty talk too far; leaning away to check on you, he’s pulled back in when you throw an arm around his neck and crush your lips to his, kissing him with explosive want. “Your needy slut,” you murmur against his mouth, his filthy words having you clenching and feeling much too empty, “come claim your pussy.  It’s all yours, daddy.”

“Fuck,” grits Din, “the mouth on you, baby,” as he pulls back to line himself up with your entrance; he notches your opening and pauses for a moment, “Ready, pretty bird?” You appreciate this moment of tenderness, because you’re sure it’s coming right before Din absolutely wrecks you; you positively beam, “Give it to me, daddy.”

Din smirks at your enthusiasm and watches as your confident expression changes to one of being shell-shocked as he pushes in slowly; inch by inch, Din presses into you as you spread your legs further, one leg dropping off the couch and back arching to accommodate him, “Fuck, Din.  So… big,” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders, fingernails marking him to distract from the stretch.

“You’re taking me so well, baby girl,” Din coos, leaning in and wrapping his arms around you in encouragement, kissing your neck and nipping at your earlobes as he continues to sheath himself deep within you.  Finally, finally he bottoms out; you’re so, so full and you think you may have to relearn how to breathe.

Din rests his forehead against yours, panting and holding himself back until you let him know you’re ready;  he’d wager this is no less than a Herculean feat, with your tight warm cunt practically choking him, it’s a wonder to him he hasn’t come already.  Peppering your throat with light kisses and he croaks out words of praise in a husky, strained voice right into your ear, “Look at my good girl, taking me so deep,” “Feel so good and tight on my dick. So, so perfect for me,” “Never want to leave this cunt.  Could stay buried here forever.”

Your breathing, though shallow, finally steadies, “Din?”

“Yes, pretty bird,” he practically chokes.

“Please move,” you plead, “… and Din?”

He looks at your blissed out face as he pulls away from your neck, “Yes?”

“Don’t hold back, baby,” your smile playful.

Din returns your grin, “Any thing my pretty little slut wants,” and he pulls back nearly all the way, before pushing back in with restrained force.  He fucks into you with a few long, gentle strokes, waiting to make sure your moans are ones of pleasure before he lets go and slams into you, burying into you to the hilt before pulling back and driving into you over and over.  You feel the air punch out of your lungs with each of Din’s powerful thrusts; your combined cries and grunts of ecstasy mix with the sounds of skin slapping, filling the room and has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.  You grab at Din’s arms and babble nonsensically, “Din, Din.. Imma… feels so good… baby, baby, please… fuck, fuck...”

The build up to this, to tonight really, has been too much and Din know he won’t last.  Mesmerized by the vision of you writhing beneath him, your gorgeous tits bouncing as you cry out, he vows to make you come one more time before he explodes.  The hand not gripping your hip reaches up to palm both of your breasts and pull at your peaks; Din stutters when you clench down and cry out a symphony of his name in repetition.  As you’re quaking at the pleasurable sting still vibrating in your nipples, Din snakes a hand down to where you’re joined together and starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb.  A fresh wave of slick coats his pistoning cock as you mewl beneath him at the added sensation; you’re fucked dumb and hardly able to think let along string together the words to let Din know how close you are.

“I’m close, baby.  You feel… too good… can’t last.  Need you to come one more time for me.  Can you do that for me? Can you… be my good girl?”  Din grunts hotly in your ear, each question punctuated by a hard thrust.

“Yes, daddy, daddy… fuck oh, yes… can… be… good… Oh, Din, Din, don’t stop, don’t stop, Din, DIN! Nghhhhhhhh!”

“That’s it.  Give it to me, let go, baby. Give daddy one more,” Din is barely able to keep up a steady pace as he presses down on your swollen nub.

Crying out, you shudder and shake as Din pulls another orgasm from you; eyes unfocused and mouth open in a soundless scream, you tense around Din’s length so tightly that his own fall isn’t far behind.  As your breathing starts to even, Din pulls out and strokes himself furiously with his fist before shooting rope after rope of cum over your stomach as you watch, awestruck.  So much.  Pulling you up and into his lap with a strong hand to your back, Din kisses you tenderly as you come down from what has probably been the best fuck of your life.

Settled contently in the afterglow, you run your fingers gently up and down Din’s warm back as he continues to kiss you softly; stroking your hair lovingly, he whispers, “Sorry, pretty bird.  Didn’t have time to ask you where you wanted me to come.”

Gosh, you adore him.  Giggling, you kiss that sweet mouth of his, “It’s okay, baby.  I like that you marked me.  I told you, I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Din murmurs between gentle pecks to your lips, cradling your head gently while holding you close with his other arm, “Was that okay, sweetheart?”

You tuck yourself into your favourite nook under his chin and nod into his neck, “Perfect, Din. Knew you would be.”

“You’re my dream girl, pretty bird.”

You close your eyes and sigh happily, fucked out and pulled apart.

“Want to get cleaned up a bit?” Din suggests after a while.

When you nod into his neck, Din stands, still holding you close; softening against you, he effortlessly carries you in the direction of the bathroom that you point him in.  After setting you down softly on your feet, Din helps steady you as you reach for tissues and a hand towel and patiently waits for the water to warm before he gently cleans off his spend from your stomach and his own.  Giving you a little privacy to finish up, Din exits the bathroom first; when you come out, you see he’s gathered both of your clothes from the various places in the living room they were discarded, and is holding them with both hands in a neat pile in front of his nakedness like a sitcom character caught in a compromising position.   Cheekily letting out a low wolf whistle, tell Din how cute he is, then hold your hand out for his which he manages to take without dropping the clothes.

Leading him by the hand to your bedroom, you wordlessly take the clothes from him and put them on top of your hamper before throwing your arms around Din’s neck and kissing him with abandon.  The depth of your passionate for this man, and your gratefulness for intimacy that now exists between the two of you is overflowing.  You want him to know how good he made you feel, that he’s left you changed, filled with a need that you don’t think anyone other than him will ever be able to fill. 

“Do you want to stay over, Din?” you whisper into his lips; as amazing as this night has been so far, it somehow feels like not enough and you don’t want it to end just yet.

Din’s response is to pick you up and throw you, shrieking with laughter, onto your bed and dive bomb after you; giving you just enough time to roll away at the last minute so he doesn’t smoosh you.  Throwing his long arm over your middle, he rolls you back into him before pressing his mouth against yours, “I would love to stay over, pretty bird.  You think Al would be good with me joining you on mornings walks too?” 

Nodding, you smile and card your hands through Din’s curls, still slightly damp from your escapades in the living room, and pull him impossibly closer so there’s more of you touching than not.  The two of you stay like this for who knows how long; naked bodies entangled, strong arms encircling, never-ending soft touches from lips, fingers, hands, lazily mapping each other’s bodies.  Floating over the gentle grazes are whispered pleas for forgiveness once again, reminders that forgiveness was already granted, renewed vows of devotion, and declarations of adoration.  Every caress a promise for the future and an expression of your quiet joy.

With one hand running long, lazy strokes over your back like steady current and the other gently cradling your head, Din’s tongue parts your lips, “Can I have you again, sweetheart?”

Pulling back and looking at Din directly in the eyes, you find a sweet longing that makes more than your heart ache, so you nod while exhaling a satisfied breath.

“Wanna take it slow this time, okay pretty bird?”

Giving a low chuckle, “You always want to take things slow,” you grin, before kissing him earnestly, “I’m yours, Din, however you want me.”

Despite having just told you his intention to go slowly, your words have Din hardening fast as he licks into your mouth and deepens his kisses.

But he’s committed to taking his time and does indeed go slow. 

Slowly, he makes his way down your body, memorizing every curve of your neck and your breasts, every dip and valley of your hips and stomach with his mouth and hands.  Taking a pause at every soft peak of your body to impart loving caresses and murmur sweet words of praise and praising words of filth about what you do to him and what he wants to do to you.

Slowly, you fall apart when his tongue laps at you with the intent to explore and claim, gradually building you up with each lick.  With the patience of a saint, he repeatedly guides your thighs to stay open with firm, but gentle massages from his hands while he lazily sucks on your clit and you cry out long, drawn out whines above him.  He reveres each and every line and crest of your folds with his mouth, as you chant his name and grab at his curls to press him deeper into you for more, more.  Nothing can hurry him – not your soft cries of pleasure, not the strained hard on he ruts into your mattress, nor your dripping arousal running down your centre and soaking your sheets – he deliberately applies the sweet pressure you need to send you tumbling into oblivion when he’s good and ready, then draws out your pleasure even longer by continuing to devour you through your high.

He has to force himself to breathe slowly when you take him in your mouth, and following his cue, set a sweet and slow pace, licking and stroking his shaft lazily before swallowing him deep and working his length in an unhurried, steady rhythm.  Your small, soft hands cup him from below, and your fingers ghost a tickling trail over his balls, humming appreciatively to the sounds of Din’s haggard breathing and the small gasps that escape his throat.  He gently runs his fingers through your hair, brushing loose strands off your face as you suck his shaft and wrap your tongue around his swollen head; massaging your scalp soothingly as you take your time pulling all of him down your tight throat.  It’s almost unfair to call this a blow job when it’s really more of an appreciation of his glorious cock conducted at your leisure, the pleasure you’re receiving equaling Din’s.

Not without regret, Din coaxes you off of him, promising you he’ll come in your mouth another time as he lovingly kisses your messy mouth.  Even his vow of taking it slow has limits, and he openly admits he’s ready to concede, “Need to be inside of you, pretty bird.”

Din’s mouth never leaves yours as he lines himself up between your legs and almost agonizingly slowly, pushes in.  You’re so wet and open that he meets little resistance, but with his unrushed pace, you feel every ridge as he fills you.  There’s none of the urgency and impatience of your earlier dalliance; Din sets a relaxed pace, and braces his forearms on either side of your head, hands tenderly stroking your hair and face as he kisses you over and over.  As he thrusts in and out of you with long, deliberate strokes, Din drinks in your whimpers and soft cries of heady bliss, coming up only for air to whisper sweet praise in your ear about how good you feel around him, how beautiful you are, how perfect you are, made for him.  You don’t hold back any of your own ramblings, murmuring back how incredible he feels inside you, how well he fills you, how happy he makes you, how you want the weight of him on you at all times.  You feel so full, so beautiful, so safe and free, and so loved.  Din had promised to take you apart and put you back together when he finally took you to bed, and you had assumed he meant physically, but you’re sure now that he’s reshaped your heart as well.  With the way he’s looking at you while he fucks you deep and slow, adoring you, you can’t help as your eyes water slightly and tears escape from the corner of your eyes.  “I know, baby, I know,” whispers Din as he soothes away your tears.  Eventually, both your breathing turns shallow, your kisses sloppier, and your moans indecent.  With broken words, you gasp, “I’m so close.  Oh, god, Din.  Please.  Inside.  Please, Din, come inside me.  It’s safe, I-” and before you can finish your sentence, he kisses you to convey his trust, and reaches down to draw figure eights on your clit as he suddenly picks up the pace, giving himself the permission to release what he’s been holding back.  The sudden change in speed coupled with the delicious strokes from Din’s thumb has you coming for your personal record breaking fourth time tonight, clenching down so hard on Din that he fists the sheets next to your head tight enough to turn his knuckles white.  Somehow mustering enough focus to slam into you even harder for three, four, five more strokes, Din comes mightily with a low, prolonged grunt, collapsing on top of you while panting into your neck.

A minute passes and Din rolls off of you and pulls you close; as he slips out of you, you whine a little from the loss and look at him almost shy, to which he kisses your forehead tenderly.  No words needed, he gets up, walks around to your side of the bed to lift you bridal style, keeping your legs closed to minimize the mess on your bed sheets before carrying you to your bedroom ensuite.  After cleaning up, you put on a fresh pair of underwear and a silky camisole for sleep while Din dons his boxers before the two of you slip comfortably under the covers, grinning like tired idiots the whole time.

Pressing you to his chest, Din nuzzles the back of your neck and peppers the nape with light kisses, “Remember when I told you I didn’t plan on getting much sleep around you, pretty bird?”

You hum in assent, remember his teasing from your second date.

“If you keep wearing things like this to bed,” his big hand moves to brush deliberately over your nipples and then trail down your side to lightly spank your ass, “then I’m going to have to start calling in to work.”

You giggle and buck back into him, teasingly, “It’s okay, you’re the boss.”

“Nah, you’re the boss, pretty bird.  From this night on, I’m at your beck and call.  Fall to my knees and worship you, servant to your every whim, ready to topple kingdoms should that be your wish,” you can feel his goofy, lopsided smile against your ear.

“A boxer and a poet?  A lover and a fighter? Who knew you contained such multitudes, Djarin,” you quip, but secretly melting at his romantic words.

“Such a perfect night, baby.  You’re so perfect.”  He kisses your shoulder, then nips it lightly with his teeth for good measure, causing you to yelp in surprise.

Turning over, you snuggle in under his chin, “You were pretty good tonight too, old man.”

“Just want to be good for you, pretty bird.  Want to always make you feel good.”

“You do, Din.  You make me feel so cherished, and wanted, and sexy, and safe.  Really,” and you pull back to look him deep in his eyes, “I meant everything I said tonight, baby.  It’s okay to share your world with me; I won’t judge.  Please don’t ever feel like there’s no place for me by your side; it’s where I want to be.”

“It’s where you belong,” he counters, sealing this declaration with a sweet kiss.

Turning back over, you hold on to Din’s forearms and nest back into his protective embrace; smiling to yourself as the sounds of Din’s gentle breathing lull you into a peaceful sleep.

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

Helloooooooo it is me, back at it again with the Boba ✨thots✨ at your humble request (jk I have them constantly)

Ok so here we are, sucking daddy daimyo Boba's dick like our life depends on it in his office (that I'm sure he has somewhere in the palace). He's "had a long day, princess" and you figured you'd give him some of that sweet relief before evening court. His desk comm pings and you both freeze, your eyes wide and watery as you stare up at him from between his thighs. The notification keeps going off so you pop off him and smile, "Pick up the call." "You sure, mesh'la?" "Why, you scared you won't be able to hold it together, old man?" Boba just snorts and shoves your head back down, answering the call as you take him back into your mouth.

The rest is up to you, Boba bestie 💖😈

SMUT UNDER THE CUT.

You hear Fennec’s voice over the comms as Boba eases a hand lovingly from your forehead to your scalp and fists your hair. He doesn’t guide your head - he just wants you to feel his presence. He follows the movement of your head with his clenched fist.

“…the water seller broker is concerned about the tension between the Tuskens and the farmers…”

Boba looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes. It’s nearly impossible to focus on Fennec when you’re between his legs with your lips around his cock being the best little princess he could possibly ask for. You’re a treasure, working so diligently to take the thick length of him into your small mouth, your eyes watering with the strain of it - he’s utterly in love with you but he recognizes now that letting you suck him off while he’s trying to conduct business was a truly terrible idea.

“…consider negotiations with the Tuskens for water rights in what is rightfully their territory…”

Boba spares a glance down at you with your flushed cheeks, your red lips, tears streaming down your face - he comes undone completely and jerks as his release fills your mouth. He pets your hair lovingly as you swallow every last drop of him and cups your chin in his hand. He pulls you up between his legs to kiss the tears from your face. You lay your head down on one of his thighs and he strokes your face.

“We can speak to the Tuskens in person. The Dune Sea is theirs,” he responds into his comms. His voice is relaxed and serene. He’s so desperately in love with you even when you’re not taking his cock in your mouth. He’s already thinking about ways to repay you.

[mari-the-bimbo]

HEY MARIII!!! CONGRATS ON 2K!!<333 HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE OKAY!!

what about an ex husband gojo x reader when reader and gojo take their kids out on their birthday somewhere to an expensive restaurant, to the amusement park or anywhere else??

Ex husband! Gojo: taking the kids out on their birthday

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

A/N: Thank you so much! I love the idea btw! <3

As you iced the birthday cake for your daughter’s 4th birthday, you sighed in realisation of the long day ahead of you.

Even though you told Gojo not to do anything too extravagant, you knew he’d pull some tricks to make you have an unnecessarily long day with him, but it’s not like you had much choice.

You don’t want him to claim you’re a bad mother again do you?

You were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when you heard keys opening your front door, making you roll your eyes.

You stay in the kitchen and try to focus on the cake as your kids scream and giggle in excitement as their dad enters, drowning them in kisses, hugs, and expensive gifts.

You narrow your eyes in concentration even more when you hear footsteps entering the kitchen. His finger enters your vision as he picks some icing off your cake and licks it off his finger.

“What the hell are you doing?! This is the birthday cake!” You finally snap, looking up at your annoying ex husband, only to see him smiling down at you from his 6’3 figure with his usual cocky expression.

“You’re joking right? You don’t really think my daughter is going have this cheap, homemade cake right? It’s a cute attempt though baby” he mocks. “Even the icing tastes cheap” he says, scrunching his nose in exaggerated disgust.

“What? Im serious!” He exclaimed when you look at him angrily. He then suddenly shoved his long, pale finger in your mouth, forcing you to try the icing left on his fingers.

“Gojo-!” You squealed, pulling away in annoyance, blushing profusely.

“Why are you blushing like you haven’t licked my fingers before?” He says suggestively, licking his lips at the memory.

You shake your head while he laughs at you, “Anyways, go and get dressed nicely y/n, we’re going somewhere nice”

——

You stare up at the luxurious restaurant with the clear ceiling, allowing guests to stare up at the stars.

You couldn’t even be mad at Gojo, he did well. Your daughter loves stargazing. Just seeing her stare up at the sky so happily, clapping her hands as her daddy held onto her, naming the stars with her, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Papa I’m hungry!” Your son, who was sitting next to you said with a pout. You giggled, pinching his flushed chubby cheeks.

“Ok buddy, let’s order then!” Gojo said, finally sitting down with your daughter.

And even though, throughout the whole evening, Gojo’s feet kept riding up your legs and up the dress you wore, you maintained composure, braving a smile for your kids who were having such a good time.

The waiter then brought the extravagant, detailed pink birthday cake to the table, making your daughter’s eyes widen in awe. Gojo only smirked at you, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Okay angel, make a wish!” Gojo said to your daughter as she blew out the candles. She squeezed her eyes shut and mumbled something.

“What did you wish for angel?” You asked your daughter with a smile.

“I wish mama and papa kiss!” she said with a wide smile just like her dad, looking back at her dad for validation, even your son giggled.

Gojo hid his wide cocky smile behind his large hands. You sighed in defeat.

If there’s one thing you need to know about ex husband Gojo, his kids are his little minions, manipulating you through the excuse of ‘that’s what the kids want’, but actually, he brainwashes the kids into believing it’s their way of protecting their momma from other ‘scary’ men.

“Come on darling, pucker up” he coos, pulling your chin upwards to meet his lips that were stretched in a cocky, victorious smile.

[f10werfae]

Chris Evans Pregnancy Scenarios #3

Pairing: Husband! Chris Evans x Pregnant Wife! Reader

Word Count: 992

Summary: Chris is once again on a journey of discovering new things he can do with his pregnant wife Y/n

Warnings: None ♥️ Pure fluff

Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Painting your baby bump♥️

(Y/n's P.O.V)

The mid summer heat was absolutely killing me at this point, being 8 months pregnant in the middle of July was not a fun activity.

Sitting on the soft fabric couch, I huffed a deep breath bringing the straw to my lips, sipping on the cold lemonade my husband just made me.

“Alright hun, get comfy m'comin” I heard Chris say from the kitchen, carrying over his tray of paints and brushes. Setting them down on the table in front of the couch, he kneeled in between my legs pushing up my sundress so it bunched over my bump, leaving me in a pair of his boxers.

“Bub how long is this gunna take” I whined, the heat already getting to me despite the air conditioning being on.

“Come on babe, you know i’ve been wanting to do this for so long” He pouted up at me, whilst spreading small kisses on my bump; ending up with Chris getting small kicks to the face by his own son.

“Our little man is starting to get active, daddy” I said feeling my hand over the bump, watching Chris start to mix his paints on his palette.

“I will never get used to you calling me that in this context bubba” He said chuckling lowly, pouring water into a cup for his brushes.

“Alright i’m about to start Y/n, this may feel a bit cold okay?” I nodded as a reply, eagerly wanting to see what his first move was with the body paints. As soon as his brush hit my stomach, a cold rush spread causing me to flinch a little.

Chris' eyes immediately met mine, his free hand holding onto the side of my bump, rubbing soft circles with his thumb as he did so.

“You okay princess?” Chris said, now concentrating on his work of art.

“Mhm” I replied bluntly, running my hands through his soft hair, finding the concentrated look on his face so endearing.

Over the past few months, Chris had become more and more protective and wary. Of course that wasn’t a bad thing, who was I to complain? He would place kisses on me constantly any chance he got, his hands always lingering on my body for comfort and his words of love only strengthened our relationship more.

“Chris my love, what are you painting?” I asked, not being able to stretch my head far enough due to being heavily pregnant.

“Its a surprise sweetheart, don’t worry there’s not long left” He replied, kissing a part of my unpainted bump, continuing with his soft brush strokes.

Around 20 minutes rolled by when Chris finally stood up and stepped away, clearly admiring his work of art.

“Alright baby i’m done, you wanna see” Nodding my head enthusiastically, he held onto both of my arms helping me up. His one arm remaining around my waist as we walked to the body length mirror in corner of the room.

I gasped in awe looking at my now painted stomach, the shield of Captain America painted on it.

“Do ya like it?” Chris asked standing behind me, his Boston accent coming out a bit more.

“No, I love it” I said turning my head and looking up, puckering my lips to receive a soft loving kiss on the lips.

“Now let me get a picture” Running off to the table he grabbed our camera, telling me to pose by corner.

“There’s my sexy baby mama” Chris said making me cringe out in laughter, “stop it”

“Nope, that nickname is definitely going to stick bub” He said leaning over to grab a washcloth and lukewarm water.

- A Pamper Day 💅🏼

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Sobbing quietly, I lay flat back on the bed like a starfish, my bump protruding towards the ceiling.

“Bubba? What’s wrong?” I heard Chris ask from somewhere in the room, not being bothered to get up I just lay still.

“I can’t reach to paint my toe nails Chris, i’m like a beached whale”

A little snort came from him, my head snapping up to look at him with a glare then giving up and laying back down again.

“Come 'ere honey, let’s get you sitting up again” Chris walked over, helping me to sit up against the headboard, fixing my hair with his hands he placed an abundance of kisses on my head.

“i’ll try and paint your nails 'ight?”

“Will you tie my hair up first please babe” I asked sweetly, my hair starting to stick to the back of my neck.

“Mhm let me just get you a hair tie” Chris said disappearing into the bathroom to return with one of my claw clips. Urging me forward a bit, he took my hair and twisted it into a makeshift ponytail above my head, before clipping it successfully. A trick he had proudly learnt once he realised the heat irritated me the most during pregnancy.

“Alright what colour would you like bub?” He said picking up my box of polishes onto the bed, then sitting down himself and putting my left foot onto his thigh.

“Ooh what about this nice light blue colour?” He said excitedly, holding it up for me to see.

I nodded, “Yes please Chris”

Watching Chris try to paint my nails was definitely an experience, he had been so attentive towards me even before I was pregnant but now it had multiplied. He was my best friend and husband in one, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“aw shit” Chris said, using his thumbnail to try and scrape off the excess edges on now my right foot.

“Alright princess your toes are done” He said happily, showing them to me, a smile erupting on my face.

“Can you come up now, I wanna give my loving husband a fat kiss on the lips” I said reaching my arms out, only to receive a smirk in reply.

[sukirichi]

earned it [01]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it.  But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

request. (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + (dumbification, praising kink)

cw. smut, overstimulation, slight dumbification, praising kink, slight degradation, spanking, belt whipping, explicit murder, rough sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), multiple sex scenes, riding, slight angst, veryyy unedited, sex when standing up, sex in pretzel position, dom! gojo, manhandling

notes. 🦋 anon, thanks so much for the request! i hope you love this one, i absolutely poured my heart and soul into this! minus the effort to edit, i’ll just edit this when i’m no longer sick lol

series masterlist

There he was again.

Working in a high-class restaurant located in the heart of the city meant you were no stranger to seeing people of power and titles, but he never failed to make everyone stop in their tasks every time he came around.

You don’t know his name, much less his usual orders since his usual table – middle 98 – wasn’t in your rotation. But you’re held captive in his presence, attention drawn to his broad shoulders clad in what seemed like a hand-stitched three piece suit, his striking white hair falling down in smooth tendrils. There’s something about the way he walks – confident doesn’t begin to describe it – that makes everyone surrounding him feel like they’re merely spectators to the enigma that was him, and he carries this observation proudly in his shoulders, that mischievous smile never absent from his face.

Your co-worker tugs at your sleeve, nearly knocking the empty wine glasses away from your tray. Barely catching them as you falter, you bow down to them in apology. No matter how intriguing the mysterious midnight comer was, you were still working. You needed to keep your head focused and in the game.

Hours pass by of shifting from one table to another, your hands beyond cramped from scribbling down such intricate orders. It’s a miracle you were hired in a place as luxurious as this in the first place when you couldn’t pronounce, much less spell the main dishes, but you proved through determination and hard work that the miracle was also accompanied by your grit. It didn’t matter that you were the youngest part-timer with little to no experience – unexpected things always happened when you’re backed in a corner, leaving you with no choice but to follow through.

This corner was nothing less than the struggle to make ends meet. While you’re lucky to have gotten accepted in one of the top state universities, there still came the issue of tuition fees, plus dorm occupations.

You don’t have the privilege to complain or whine that your experiences are probably not on par with what they expect of you, so you have to do your best; you have to keep pushing no matter how hard it gets and you’re barely awake for class the next day.

Clocking out, you bid goodbye to your co-workers and thank them for their hard work, about to leave through the back door when you hear his voice.

Your gaze lands on him from outside the kitchen, body twisted in the direction of where he sat, long legs crossed one another. He’s thanking the waiter for the wine, and you wince, because it isn’t just any wine. That’s one of the drinks locked in the special cellar because of its hefty price, yet there he was, swirling the red liquid around in his glass as if the amount of zeroes never bothered him. He’s reading something from his tablet, head tilted to the side as he drinks, and that’s when you see it.

It’s so miniscule you would’ve believed it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you’ve seen in this class during one of your laboratory practices, the burn marks on your wrist a painful reminder of your carelessness.

Your boss’ shouts of warning fall onto deaf ears as you push past the double doors, feet moving on its own. The edge of the glass makes contact with his lips, gray lashes flattering across his cheeks, while time and sound becomes nothing but background noise to you. Your cry is inaudible when your hand pushes the glass away from his grip, the sounds of it shattering into pieces like a wake-up call to both of you.

For the first time since you’ve met him, the faintest look of surprise crosses over his face. His hands remain into a reflexive hold of the now missing glass, azure eyes cutting through yours.

You bow down to apologize – you can’t believe you’ve just done that and how his suit was stained and his pants soaked – but the words that left his lips stun you beyond disbelief, effectively freezing you in your state. His voice holds the same iciness as the blue of his pupils, but to you – just for you – there’s a tinge of awe behind them.

“Odd,” he says, “To think my life would be saved by you.”

You wake up with a gasp, hands clutched on the blanket covering your bare frame. There’s sweat forming on your hairline as you look around, wincing at the sliver of light passing through the curtains. Silver, ceiling length draperies obscure the view of the city skies outside, a huge reminder of where you are now – somewhere between the past and the future that’s about to come – and the king-sized bed you lay on almost feels like a dream.

Right. It’s been two years since you’ve met Satoru, the once mysterious customer turned into lover, an arrangement between financial aid and companionship solidifying your relationship with him now.

Your face burns at the sight of your clothes scattered all over your shared room. Your lace panties somehow end up on the chandeliers, the expensive material of your silk dress about to slide off the humongous TV and your bra hanging off the doorknob.

The light ache between your legs does nothing to appease your embarrassment. Even after two years of being with Satoru, it’s still difficult to believe he’s chosen you of all people.

He could’ve had anyone he wants. Not only is he beautiful, young, successful, and smart, he’s also an absolutely god in the sheets, your throbbing core attesting to his never ending array of his skills. Truly, Gojo Satoru was perfect, so much so that you pale in comparison to him no matter how much he’s assured you you’re the only he has eyes on.

It doesn’t make sense to you, but does it have to?

Love never required a logical reason for it to blossom, and you left it at that, fearful that it may just ruin whatever happened between the two of you. Besides, if Satoru wants you, then who were you to question that?

You swing your legs off the side of the bed to make him breakfast, but your legs shake upon contact to the floor, still very much sore after last night’s events.

Satoru’s been away for work for three days, and even though it wasn’t that much of a distance, he still acted like it’s been forever. He sure took his time with you, making you cum three times just with his tongue and fingers alone. He’s a cheeky and mischievous man; there’s no telling whether his words are just sweet lies or plain facts, but if there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that Satoru keeps his promises to heart. If he says he’s going to fuck you until you can’t walk the next day, he means it, and now you’re left groaning back onto the bed.

You’re thankful that it’s a weekend. Had it been a school day, it’s going to be an absolute pain in the ass. No matter how much he’s covered your school fees, you still won’t risk missing a day.

The door swings open, revealing your boyfriend clothed in nothing but his boxers, the smile on his face huge at seeing you glare at him. “Aw, baby,” he coos, sliding himself next to you, carrying a tray of pancakes topped with blueberries with him. Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulder and laughs into your air when you grumble at the soreness, which he tries to kiss away. “Sorry not sorry for last night. It’s not my fault I’m so addicted to you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, fighting back that stupid fluttering feeling in your chest. Your attention is diverted to the luscious, fluffy pancakes, and your brows furrow at the sight. “Did you make this for me?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You roll your eyes at him; his energy was always off the charts even after fucking you into oblivion. Thanking him under your breath, you reach for the breakfast, eternally grateful that it’s breakfast in bed because you can’t walk anywhere right now. However, Satoru pries your hands away from the fork, making you lean back instead as he spoon feeds you.

It’s a little humiliating – and he’s basking in this judging from the smirk he wears – but you give in anyway. Unlike him, your stamina isn’t monstrous. You’re still a human and you’re utterly tired, the glare endless through mouthfuls of the pancake. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re my baby,” he retorts, smacking a kiss right at your lips.

You complain harder, ever so annoyed that you could never seem to throw him off guard and have the upper hand for once. Satoru eases the frown on your face by kissing you harder, his hand cradling your neck. He’s a fucking tease; his tongue languid and sensual as he tastes the honey coating your lips, sucking your bottom lip inside his mouth before nipping at it.

At the back of your mind, you’re wondering how each moment with him results into touching. Not that you really mind, of course, your stomach only flares up with heat at the thought he wants you just as much as you crave him.

Breakfast is soon forgotten right after seven bites as Satoru leans back against the headboard, thumb soothing circles at your hipbone to guide you on top of him.

He pulls away to breathe, a thin thread of saliva and honey between your lips present, and it’s so erotic that his eyes darken with lust, hands gripping a little tighter. You’re still bare on top of him, hardened breasts on display, but he holds himself back with heavy breaths, not wanting to ruin you further than he already has.

Satoru’s lips lands on your shoulder instead, thumb grazing under the weight of your breasts. He’s kissing you everywhere, almost as if he expects the flutter of his lips to heal you. You gladly let him taste you as he pleases, neck tilted to the side while you catch your breath.

The transition of him from an absolute freak in bed to the caring, compassionate boyfriend he is never fails to give you whiplash.

“How’s your studies?” he murmurs into your skin, his touch feather-like in caressing your back. You feel the hairs stand up at where he grazes them, shivering at the sensuality and tenderness he holds you with. “Doing good? My sweetheart still top of her class?”

“Hmm,” you hum back, planting yourself firm in his lap. He’s already hard under you, his cock twitching when your bare cunt presses on top of his tip, but he controls himself, focusing on your state instead. “My grades are tip-top, all thanks to your support,” Satoru smiles when you’re the one placing kisses all over his face this time, his giggles almost child-like.

Time flies by as you lay there in his arms. You’re lulled back into sleep at the sound of his heart beat, and just as you’re dozing off, Satoru pats your ass. “Baby,” he calls out, “Let me wash you first, then we’ll cuddle afterwards. What do you think about that?”

“That’d be great, I feel sticky.”

Satoru laughs, pulling panicked squeals from you when he suddenly hoisted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style. He kicks the door open before turning the heater on in the Jacuzzi, placing you under the shower first.

You close your eyes under the sprinkle of water, hands splayed all over his chest. Your legs are still wobbling, no thanks to him railing you as if there was no tomorrow, but he holds you upright, kneading his hands into your hair then washing every crevice of your body. When you open your eyes, you see him kneeling down to rub the loofah all over your legs, a slight pinch in his brows from sheer focus.

Your heart beats loudly on your chest, unable to process that the Gojo Satoru is on his knees, his touch nothing less of worshipping as if you were a divine being in his eyes.

It makes you breathe sharply as his face comes up before your core, his tongue darting out for a moment before he looks away, focusing on cleaning you up afterwards. His control and care for your well-being leaves you speechless, leaves you breathless, leaves you wanting him more and more and more that you’re kissing him again the moment he brings you both to his Jacuzzi.

He’s taken his boxers off to enjoy the feeling of skin brushing against skin, the fuzz of bubbles foaming up at your breasts only enticing him to kiss you with equal fervent passion.

You’re grinding down on his dick, his length encased between your lips that are extremely warm in comparison to the cool water. Finally, Satoru is stuttering beneath you, little whines leaving his breath as he kneads your ass, resisting the urge to slap the smooth flesh.

“Satoru,” you moan, “N-need you now, please.”

Fuck, his name on your lips mixed with your moans are enough to make him want to lose his restraint and just fuck you hard and deep there. He growls at how unaware you are of your effect on him, and he’s nothing short of starving in his kisses, never getting tired of tasting you over and over again. He wants to keep kissing you until your scent and taste is imprinted on his skin, to carry you around with him even when you’re not there, because he loves you, and he’s never loved anyone this much before. Especially for people like him, love was nothing but a myth.

Everything is a fantasy with you, a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. If you were to ask him to give up everything for you this instant, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

His heart is enslaved by your existence, and he nods, helping you lift your hips up to align his cock to your entrance. He takes note of your soreness as you slowly sink down on his cock, swallowing your whimpers through open-mouthed kiss. You’re shaking inside his arms, tiny scratches mixed with mewls making its way on his chest, further adding to the litter of scars already painted on his body.

Your head lands on his shoulder the second he bottoms out. Satoru groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering down on him, so warm and so tight that he has to lean his head back on the headrest just to catch his breath.

“You ride me, baby,” he manages through pants. “I’ll let you set the pace – do what’s comfortable with you.”

Your jaw clenches at the same time you clamp down on him one more time, eliciting another sinful moan from your lover. A lazy smirk graces your face as you ride him slowly, the image of the almighty Gojo Satoru falling apart at your ministrations burned at the back of your mind. You’ll replay this memory every time he leaves for work again, and the dreadful thought of having to watch him leave one more time fuels you to bounce on him harder, nails dug into his shoulder.

Satoru winces at the slight sting but doesn’t stop you anyway; he’s no stranger to pain. In fact, he’s a master of that and many more in more ways than one, though you didn’t know that – and he’ll never let you know that.

His eyes snap open at the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the water sloshing out the Jacuzzi. He’s met with the sight of you clutching the edges of the tub, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fuck yourself harder on his cock. Your breasts bounce right in front of his eyes, tempting him to latch a mouth around it, which he does, the sudden flicking of his warm tongue on your nipples driving you to the edge.

Your soreness becomes a hazy memory of the past with each slide down his dick, thighs burning from the exertion. Satoru is lapping up your breasts and palming the other expertly, his breath hot on your skin.

Something familiar coils into your lower abdomen with each hard thrust, and you throw your head back, moaning his name as if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. You’re growing tired; he can tell from the way you’re barely lifting your hips, but you’re so close, so near, that Satoru takes it upon himself to push you both right where you wanted to be.

Your moan comes out breathless the moment Satoru grips at your hips, snapping his hips upwards at the same time he guides your body to crush down on him. He’s the one controlling your body, but you’re falling on top of him with no reserve, your weight slamming down to his groin in full force that he’s faltering. Satoru is entranced by the motion of your hips gyrating around the head of his cock, the wavering grin on your face a telltale you’re enjoying the act of destroying him, but he lets you – it’s only fair after the countless times he’s done the same with you. But oh, he’ll have you again and again, and he proves his endless desire for you by forcing himself deep to your most sensitive spots, the glimpse of your mouth hanging open as you come making his cock twitch.

Satoru squeezes your hips as he situates you flat on his cock, groaning as he came in thick spurts. You mewl, scratching at his chest as he rides his high out with a few more sloppy thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers at the top of your hair, well-aware that your oversensitivity is clouding your mind. But he can’t help it, not when you feel so good around him like this. “Just a little more, I’ll be – fuck – right there, oh yeahhh,” he drawls out breathlessly, his cock twitching with the last strings of cum until he grows boneless inside you.

Satoru pulls his cock out, chest heaving up and down from that earth-shattering orgasm. In all honesty, he’s confident he could give you an even better one, but your lids are already fluttering close that he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your temple as a silent you did well.

Somewhere through your half-awake state, you manage to card your fingers through his hair, voice small and weak as you ask, “Don’t you have to go to work?”

Satoru’s eyes lour with something unreadable, and he’s thankful you don’t get to see the sudden glooming of his face. He gently pushes your head to rest on his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at his rippling reflection in the water. In his eyes, he sees the truth – he sees a monster holding an innocent angel he lives to protect – the truth he wants to conceal. He can’t even fathom the possibility of you finding out about who he really is, much less what he does that enables him to provide you with everything you need.

He’s the demon himself, caressing someone as pure as you in his arms, his eyes and true self sinister except for the gentle kisses he leaves at the shell of your ear.

If it keeps you safe, he doesn’t mind becoming even more of a monster if it means keeping you safe.

So he keeps you right where you can’t witness the slight moments of vulnerability in which his horns reveal itself, hugging you tight and possessively in the fear he’ll lose the only thing that matters most to him.

“I have a meeting tonight,” is all he says, is what he always says.

He’s mysterious and aloof, too vague every time you inquire him about what he does for a living. Usually, you’d feel worried or even wary that maybe he doesn’t trust you as much as you originally thought, but you’re too tired to question him further, and he takes advantage of your weakness wholeheartedly. All to keep you safe.

Satoru closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, no longer bothered by the fact each step he took is getting him closer and closer to a point of no redemption.

He’s not worried about that anymore, not when his salvation is right in his arms, wrapping him with your love and false sense of safety that it becomes the lie he feeds himself every night just to keep going on.

“I just want to be with you a little longer.”

This time around, Satoru tells the truth.

The rust of blood dripping off the concrete walls is as normal to Satoru as breathing is for everyone else. He doesn’t falter in his movements, doesn’t scrunch his nose at the stench, and he doesn’t waver from swinging his arm back, the heavy weight of the wrench already wielded in his hand.

Someone dared come up to their base to face him head-on.

He has to admit, he was impressed with their guts, but now he feels empty save for a slight sliver of irritation at the man’s bloodied face. He’s panting after coughing up blood so much, his face unrecognizable after the beating Satoru gave him, teeth splattered on the floor. Satoru’s right hand man, Geto, stands at the side, silently inspecting his nails.

They’d been going at this for hours now, yet they seemed to be right where they were at the beginning. Torture was usually an effective method of gathering information, but this hostage seemed to be on the same par of monstrous as Satoru from his unyielding nature, even had the audacity to laugh.

Satoru stops in his tracks, a brow raised at what seemed to be so funny.

“Everyone spoke highly of you,” he spat his blood out, his busted eye twitching under Satoru’s stone cold gaze. “They told me you were barbaric, ruthless, the most feared mafia boss out here, but you’re pathetic now, aren’t you? You’re not the same Six Eyes who sees all they claimed you to be,” Satoru watched warily when his hostage smirked, the same one he always wore just moments from bashing the skull out of someone. It’s because he’s so familiar with it that Satoru immediately puts up his walls, Geto stepping beside him with his gun gleaming under his coat. As expected, the man does not falter, his laughter merely increasing in volume. “You’ve grown soft, Gojo. Your little lover is your weakness, it’s written all over your face. Tell me, what’s stopping you from ending my life already? Afraid that if she finds out, she might push you away?” When Gojo doesn’t answer, the man clicks his tongue. “I fucking knew it.”

Geto moves quicker than his boss. He draws his gun and aims it right between his eyes, only to be stopped by Satoru’s indifferent tone. “Stop.”

“But boss-”

“Why did you come here?” he stabs the man in the thigh with a knife, his screams of pain alleviating enough to distract the painful clenching of his chest. “I don’t believe you came here just to prove the rumors true. Now you tell me, why have you come here?” Satoru slams his fist down on the knife, the blade pushing past through muscles and hitting deep to the bone. “Answer me.”

“Th-there’s a drive in my pocket. Open it and you’ll see.”

The man doesn’t stop squirming as Geto rummages through his jacket, nodding to his boss once they got hold of the slick black device. Geto immediately plugs it to the monitor, several photographs popping up in a few seconds, and those few seconds were all it took to bring the infamous mafia boss down.

Because they weren’t just photos, they were photos of you.

Of you laughing with your friends, of you hugging Satoru’s arm in one of your dates, of you kissing him under the streetlight and even an intimate photo of you going down on him while he’s driving. It must be taken from a street cam judging from the blurry quality, but it’s crystal clear to him anyway, and Satoru’s mind muddles with thoughts darker than he once believed he’s capable of. He feels his anger bloom like fire licking up at his skin, his nerves bursting through, and he’s so obvious, so predictable that his hostage guffaws.

“I was right, I was right-!”

“You mean her?” his voice drips down with so much indifference, it shocks even he himself. His hostage shuts up at the sudden change of Satoru’s aura, that dark, fearsome aura that had people begging him to kill them as an act of mercy coming back to life. The man clamps his mouth shut, chills running down his spine because it’s no longer the same Satoru he mocked pulling the knife out from his thigh.

No, this is the Gojo Satoru, the devil incarnate himself, and he’s made the huge mistake of believing he would be affected by a mere woman. Satoru reads the fear on his face too easily, not bothering to hide his sigh as he twirls the bloodied blade between his fingers.

“She’s nothing to me. She’s just another bitch, another paid pussy. Favorite of the month, you could say, but nothing of worth to me,” he announces, ignoring Geto who’s stiffened up at the corner. “Did you really come all the way here just to see if you could find my weakness? If so, then your organization is a lot dumber than I thought, and I hate people who waste my time.”

“No, no, please, I was just jok-” his eyes widen when Satoru snaps his fingers, and Geto rushes to his boss with his gun. “Please, no, I didn’t think she was just a bitch-”

The man never got to finish his words.

A loud ‘bang’ echoes around the room, followed by a slight snap when his head falls backwards. Blood drips from the hole sitting in between his head, the aim perfect and flawless even with Satoru not looking back. He’s still Gojo Satoru, leader of the Gojo Mafia Clan, and he’s not the most feared leader in history for no reason. He’s always been blessed with a physical prowess and fighting abilities that allowed him to take on other clans by himself, but he’s changing. There’s now a chink in his armour, and people are starting to notice.

If he doesn’t do anything about it soon…

“Sir,” Geto begins, following the rushed footsteps of Satoru outside the hall, where his security is lined up with guns poised and ready to risk their lives for him. This was his power, this was his legacy – and this is who he was.

A killer. A monster. A demon – he’s everything you wouldn’t love.

“I know, Geto, I know,” Satoru says through gritted teeth, his bloody hands clenched into fists. He already knows what he’s supposed to do; he doesn’t need another reminder of it. “You don’t have to tell me anything I know of already. Now send that body back as a warning. I’m going home for tonight.”

Geto is stunned, and he’s got every right to be. After all, in his boss’ 28 years of existence, not once has he called anywhere or anyone home.

He’s always claimed himself to be irredeemable, to be unworthy of love and forgiveness, but slowly yet surely, he was beginning to look at life differently after meeting you, after loving you. The word ‘home’ was never in his vocabulary, and yet, every time your face comes up in his mind, it’s the only word he can think of.

He came home a lot earlier than you expected him to. You’re hunched over the table, legs swinging back and forth as you finish your school packets when the door chimes with the familiar beep. It’s only midnight and he’s already here, the excitement manifesting in you as you jump off the stools, running to greet your beloved.

Satoru ends up as a blur of frantic hands tugging his tie off, his scowl seething with anger and regret pouring off of him in waves.

Before you could say anything, he has you pinned on the wall, one knee inside your legs to keep you upright. Satoru is kissing you, hard, one hand raised to keep both your wrists planted above your head. You’re moaning at his aggressiveness, the sounds encouraged by his erection poking at you from your silk robe.

It’s not rare for him to come home in need of a fuck to clear his head, but…something feels different this time around. He feels different, almost like an entirely new person.

Satoru pulls away to press his forehead to yours, his eyes hooded with lust and lips bruised from the kiss. You’re confuzzled; your lover is the exact same person standing before you, the same person grazing at your breasts until your nipples harden at his touch, so then why does it feel like the person who left and came back are entirely two different people.

“Can I fuck you, angel? Please?”

Your words die down your throat.

Satoru’s never said please before, much less look this devastated as he asks to have you. He always says it with exuberant confidence, his present frown usually a smile. There’s no trace of happiness or even playfulness in his eyes this time around. Instead, they’re filled with fear – desperation, even.

You say yes before you realize it, but it’s enough for Satoru. It feels like he’s only been waiting for that word before he goes on a rampage, for his lips are on yours again, patting your thighs as a silent command to jump. You follow his orders and kiss him feverishly until it becomes a battle for dominance, tongue and teeth clashing against the other. Your hands are tugging at his hair from how rough he’s grabbing at your hips, spanking the sensitive flesh that draws a whimper at you.

You don’t know how Satoru manages to find his way to the leather couch even with his eyes closed, but he takes you there, no longer gentle as he throws your weight down. You’re falling, falling, falling as your knees hit the material, cheeks pressed against the headrest. You turn back to kiss him one more time, but Satoru keeps you down there, the sound of his belt unbuckling reaching your ears.

Satoru wraps the leather around his palm, kissing you flat on the lips just as he slaps the material to your ass. He’s pushed your robe to bunch up at your waist, groaning into your mouth upon the realization you’ve been walking around the house butt-naked.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he nips at your lips, feeding off of the pained moans coating his senses at each whip of his belt. “No underwear while I’m gone – you’re begging to be fucked, angel. You’re so filthy,” he swings his arm back to extend the length of the belt, squeezing your ass before he whips it harder against your flesh. You scream at the contact, nails ripping the leather couch and a slight puddle of drool on your lips.

“S-Satoru!”

“What?” he snaps, gripping your jaw, his eyes replaced with something animalistic as he stares at you. The love is gone in his eyes, your lover almost unrecognizable from the way he whips you again. You jut forwards, arousal pooling and dripping down his sofa. His eyes trail down your gushing pussy, nostrils flared before throwing his belt to the other side of the room. The buckle hits one of his expensive vases until it comes crashing down, the sound of it nostalgic to the first time you met him. “Can’t talk, huh, baby? What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you blurt out, wiggling your hips sensationally at his already throbbing dick. “Please fuck me.”

You suppose you should’ve been more careful with your words, because Satoru lives to please, and if you tell him to do something, you can expect he’ll give his everything.

He knocks the wind out of your lungs by squeezing your waist, sliding himself into you one, full thrust. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but it’s too fast, too early, that the sudden stretch is painfully pleasurable. Satoru delivers one more smack to your flesh that makes it bounce, his growls loud and ragged as he pounds into you.

You’re clutching at the backrest, eyes shut tight as all your attention diverts to the heat in your core. You wish you could see his face, hold his hand or see the way he admires you while he fucks you, but you can’t see anything. Tonight, you could only feel.

Each thrust sends the couch a little ways forward, his balls slapping against your ass. He’s cursing left and right, more focused on getting his anger out his system than pleasuring you. It’s a drastic change to your lover’s behavior in bed, yet you can’t find any muscle in your body that denies this. Satoru can be rough, but he never really goes all out. One way or another, he manages to hold back for your sake, but his mind’s a mess, the voices in his head screaming louder that it drowns out the need to make you cum first.

He’s relentless, grip bruising the harder he fucks into you. You know you’re gone in the instance Satoru plants one foot beside you, the angle causing him to hit deeper.

Satoru ends up fucking into your cervix with each hard thrust, fisting his hand under your robe while he slams forward. It’s so intense that your vision blurs, a faltered grip on the couch. You’re falling limp under his ministrations, his dick successfully hitting that spot that has you seeing white. You’re screaming, babbling nonsense while Satoru uses you as his own fuck toy, pushing past your tight walls and relishing in the way you hug his cock snugly.

He came first, his thrusts growing sloppy and stuttering for a moment. Satoru pulls out so quickly from you that you’re left gasping for air at the sudden emptiness, and that’s when you feel his cum landing on your lower back.

You’re too slow, too weak – or perhaps he’s too strong, too fast – to react properly to his movements.

Satoru doesn’t let you catch your breath as he throws you over his shoulder, your face nearly smacking his ass. You feel dizzy at this position, and the voice in your head tells you that you should be scared he’s manhandling you like this, but seeing him this way – so reveled, so angry, so out of control – has you rubbing your legs, core dripping at the thought of how he’s going to use you tonight.

Your eyes widen when he doesn’t head for the bedroom. You were so sure he’d take you there, but Satoru lays you flat on the marble countertops of the kitchen, the cold biting into your skin.

Satoru doesn’t waste another second before he spreads your legs open and dives into your cunt. You squeal, legs instinctively closing around his head when you feel his tongue lick a flat stripe at your pussy, but he only pushes them apart, encircling your ankles hard to keep you open.

You know he’s strong, but you’re still surprised that he’s capable of rendering you motionless, powerless like this. Your mind wanders off to a dangerous path in wonders of how else he’s hurt someone like this – whether intentionally or unintentionally – but he immediately pulls you back to reality when he sucks your clit, his eyes direct with yours.

His hands trail upwards to squeeze at your breasts, the immediacy of it all firing up that tight knot in your stomach that he failed to snap a while ago.

Satoru’s nose rubs at your skin the harder he sucks at your clit, tugging it upwards until you’re whining around him. It’s always so erotic to see his pretty face buried in your cunt like this; you’ll never get used to him eating you like you’re his last meal. He laps up your juices like a starved man, his tongue prodding between your lips and slurping everything you offer him, one of his arms retracting to slide two fingers inside your sopping hole.

You moan at the sudden intrusion. The sounds of your moans mixing in with the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy is extremely embarrassing, even more so because you’re actually gushing down his palm.

Your juices spread all over his face, and Satoru is greedy, thirsty for more. He pumps harder into you, curling them against the ridges of your walls, and finally, finally you’re there. Your orgasm washes down on you violently that Satoru has to keep a palm flat down on your stomach, his tongue not ceasing from lapping up your juices. You’re convulsing from his hold, stuttered moans rewarding to his ears.

He doesn’t stop coaxing your wetness out of your cunt, his fingers working you out and easing the previous pain of when he entered you without warning. Satoru leans up to help you sit up, his lips colliding with yours for a much gentler kiss this time around.

You cup his cheeks, feeling him slide your body across the counters. Your arousal that he’s failed to clean up remains there until it spreads all over the back of your thighs, the feeling sticky and uncomfortable, but you’re more focused in his tongue dancing with yours. He tastes sweet – like mint and sugar – but his moans are sweeter, the sound dulcet and making you weak on your knees as you taste yourself on him.

Satoru tugs you forward, panic flooding you when you feel nothing under you. You feel like you’re falling again and you immediately encircle your arms around his neck, but he chuckles through the kiss, quick reflexes put into work as he carries you.

The kiss is sloppy yet heated, both of you unable to focus properly when he’s growing hard again. You expect him to take you to the bedroom to finish things for once and for all, but he’s impatient – this much you know the moment he walked in, but somehow keep forgetting – wrapping your legs to his waist instead before slipping inside you.

You mewl into his mouth, eyes snapping open to look at him nervously. His legs are slightly bent as he bounces you on his cock like you weighed nothing.

In this position, he’s hitting deep each time you slide down his cock. Unable to help it, you graze your foreheads with his to stare him deep in the eyes, the usual passion in them slowly returning with each thrust. The work is placed on his shoulders as he holds you close to him, the mind numbing sensation of your erect nipples grazing his sensitive skin enticing him to rut harder into you, all to enjoy the way you fall apart above him.

You’ve been rendered speechless, mouth fallen open to release breathy gasps. Hell, you’re unable to moan, not when his cock is sliding in and out of you so lusciously that you feel every vein protruding from the base of his length. How he manages to walk while fucking you is beyond your comprehension by now, but he seems to be having the time of his life based on his grunting, continuously fucking deep into your pussy so much that he refuses to let you go. Satoru kicks the door to your room open and places you gently on the bed this time, trapping you in his arms but with enough space to let you crawl back up on the bed. You stop as your head hits the pillows, and the mood immediately changes.

Satoru stays still inside you, his large hand cupping your face while you both catch your breath. There’s something unreadable about him. He feels young yet old at the same time, giving you the impression that perhaps he’s still just a child trapped in an old man’s body.

There’s so much fear swirling through the blueness of his eyes that you frown, marveling about what happened to him.

In the intimacy of the moment, you swipe the stray tear that had fallen down his cheek, smiling up at him in hopes he’d realize you’re always there for him. “Satoru,” you whisper, breath hitching as he starts to move. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Satoru props you sideways, your leg flat on the bed while he hooks the other one over his thigh that is spread beside your body. You have to tilt all the way to the side just to see his face, your hand now bent in an awkward position. Although he doesn’t answer vocally, his gentle thrusts are enough to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it – he never does, and he never will – so you shut your mouth, focusing on the pleasure of him hitting deep.

Your heart aches for him. You wish he could tell you everything, to share you his worries, and you can’t enjoy him fucking you too much because you’re crying, chest clenching that he’s growing distant no matter how close he is.

You don’t want to lose him.

“Hey,” he easily reads you, leaning down to flutter his eyes at you. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, okay, angel? But you’re making me feel good, you always do, so let me do the same for you,” Satoru kisses your tears away, the saltiness of it making him fuck harder into you, all to ignore the screaming inside his head.

He wants to hold you, he wants to kiss you, he wants to keep loving you like this, he wants to be with you, he wants to touch you – but it’s not that easy.

It’ll only keep getting harder in the future, but the future isn’t now. Today is the present, and it’s even more precious because you’re there with him. Right now, you’re untouchable by anyone but him, and it’s only him that gets to fuck you like this, only him who gets to see you whimper under him, only him who gets to kiss you hard while he fucks you deep.

He wants to fuck you hard enough that you never forget the feeling of him inside you.

Maybe he’s selfish, maybe he really is demonic, because he wishes that after this you won’t be satisfied with anyone else. He wants to fuck you hard enough you’ll keep wishing it was him, that it’s him who’s hitting your sweet spots and making you see stars, that it’s only him who can make you feel this good.

Satoru interlaces his hand with yours as he feels you tighten around him, the clamping down of your walls a telltale you’re near. You’re moaning, eyes dropping to where your bodies are connected. His cock is slicked with your arousal and he’s still thrusting to passionately, his hands touching you everywhere with the same ardor and impatience one would have when they know time is limited. And Satoru knows better than everyone that no amount of money can buy enough time in this world, because if such was a case, then he’d have done so long ago.

He silences his demons with the only way he knows how to; by kissing you and burying himself deep inside you, snapping his hips angrily as if they would counterattack his fears. Your hold on him is slipping from the sweat dripping down your bodies, but he doesn’t stop, his cock further stretching you out because he’s growing impossibly bigger.

Satoru’s cock twitches inside you, the motion pulling a gasp from you. He bites down on your shoulder, one hand gripping your other leg open as he grunts into your skin, his thrusts focused more on power than speed. He hits deep each time, the sensation of him sliding out slowly only to push back in vigorously to make your pussy throb too intense for you to even form proper sentences. He’s getting nearer, his thrusts growing more fervent and impatient. Satoru thumbs at your clit to coax you into following him, and with his thumb rubbing your clit and flicking it side to side, you end up finishing before him, your moan high-pitched and broken. He eagerly swallows the sound by releasing after you, refusing to pull out even as he feels both your cum trickle afterwards.

The sensitivity is too much for you that you have to push him away, and he complies, falling at your side but not before wrapping an arm around you first. His heartbeat is pumping under you, your hands tracing circles at his chest while he holds you impossibly close, littering kisses at the crown of your head.

It’s clear that something is wrong, but he won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. You know firsthand how annoying it is when someone can’t respect your space, so you close your eyes and let sleep overtake you instead, basking in the after sex glow and relieved only by his touch.

Hopefully, you think to yourself, he can tell you another time.

“Satoru,” you murmur seconds before falling asleep.

“Yeah?”

“If there’s something wrong…you’ll let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he lies through gritted chest, pushing your head deeper into his sweaty chest. He has a habit of doing this; of pushing you close so you don’t see his face, so you don’t see the tears streaming down his face that are soon lost in your hair. You think that maybe he’s just breathing hard after work and fucking you, but he’s torn inside, feeling too broken that not even you could help fix his heart.

But you’re still there, and that’s enough for him. So he keeps his lips planted on your forehead all the way until the first sliver of light extends its fingertips over the horizon, the orange glow bathing you in an ethereal light while his body remained in the darkness.

It serves as a painful reminder that he’ll never be worthy of your love, that he’ll never earn the blessing that is your heart, that you’ll never truly love him the way he’s always wanted to be loved. Maybe now you think you do, but it will change once the darkness reveals his true nature, and the thought of you pushing him away hurts a lot more than having never been loved in the first place. To him, it’s a thousand times worse when you get a taste of something, only to have it pulled away from you.

And the longer he stays there next to you, he can’t help but picture your smile soon turned into a look of fear, your body bruised with marks and blood instead of his love bites.

They call him the notorious mafia leader who bows and yields to no one, but it’s not true. Gojo Satoru most definitely has his weakness, one that came into a form of his lover, and he can’t handle that you’d get hurt because of him someday that he believes it’s just better to let things be this way.

He’s silent from when he leaves the bed, refusing to look at you one last time as a final resolve of whatever is left in his strength. He quickly dresses himself and picks up your discarded robe on the ground, folding it and leaving it on the counter before shutting the door, the sound of his footsteps mute compared to the frantic beating of his heart.

Geto is already there at the lobby, his face empty yet eyes filled with sympathy. He opens the door for Satoru who slides in wordlessly, his lips pulled into a thin line while he punches in zeroes upon zeroes.

The words transaction complete flashes before him, and for a split second, he gets the urge to run back inside to hold you. But Geto clears his throat from the passenger’s seat, nodding at his phone that Satoru visibly deflates. His hands are numb the whole time he deletes your photos, your videos, and erases your contact, but it only hits hard that its over once he chucked the phone out the window, watching through his sunglasses as the device is crushed under another speeding car.

Its over, its over, its over – it keeps chanting at his head, and he wants to punch himself, wants to never see another daylight again every time he imagines you waking up alone and unable to find him. He wants to be sad, and he is, but there’s that relief blossoming inside him anyway that whispers its over, you’re safe that he can’t help but think…its okay, its over.

With that, Satoru rolls up the windows and nods at the driver who’s been waiting for him the whole time. He makes eye contact with a proud Geto from the rearview mirror, concealing his heartbreak with a laugh as he crosses his leg over the other.

“It’s over,” he says more to himself, “Let’s go.”

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. That’s the reason he got this far in life in the first place, he’s got his tenacity and dedication to thank for. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins as well, and he also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

And the punishment of loving you – only to have you slip from his arms – is a punishment he’ll wholeheartedly accept.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Trouble Arises (dad!Arthur Morgan x reader)

A/N: Here’s a little bit of dad!Arthur for Father’s Day! 

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none, fluffy dad!Arthur, protective dad!Arthur

Summary: While out with you and Daisy, Arthur runs into some trouble. 

***

“Looky at this one!” Daisy tugged on a dress that was on a shop rack. 

“I like the bow on that one.” You told her, eyes flickering over the dress. It was periwinkle with numerous ruffles on the skirt and an adorable bow at the waist. 

Your husband was trailing quietly behind you, admiring the bright look in Daisy’s eyes as she went from dress to dress. It wasn’t often that the three of you ventured into town together, let alone that she was able to pick out her very own dress. So he made sure to enjoy every moment.

“Daddy! Look at this!” She stopped at a pink and white dress.

“That’s real pretty, ain’t it sweetpea?” Arthur looked at the dress. “Almost matches those shoes Papa got for you a while back, don’t they?”

“Yeah! The ones with the white bow.” Daisy nodded her head. 

“Is that the one you wanna get?” He asked her, but the young girl was already moving on to another dress.

Arthur watched her look at the dress excitedly, bouncing a little where she stood when the excitement became too much to contain. 

“You okay, Arthur?” You placed your hand on his arm.

“Yeah, just fine.” He gave you a smile. “How long you think it’s gonna take her to find a dress?”

“Do you want to be home at any specific time?”

“No, no. There’s no rush. Just curious.” He shook his head. “Let her take all the time she wants. She’s really happy, ain’t she?”

“She is.” You squeezed his arm and leaned in to kiss his shoulder before moving to be closer to Daisy. 

Arthur started to follow you. 

A familiar feeling began to creep up his spine. It was the same feeling that he could remember having all those years ago when he was a wanted man. Someone was watching him. 

He came to a stop, allowing you and Daisy to walk ahead of him, and looked around. 

Outside of the front shop windows, Arthur spotted someone looking in. They cupped their hands around their eyes and peered in through the glass. They were trying to find someone and seeing as Arthur and his family were the only ones in the store aside from an elderly couple, Arthur had a sinking feeling in his gut that the person outside was looking for him. 

He quickly stepped behind a support beam that held the ceiling up. His eyes darted over to you. You were unaware of what was happening, brushing your fingers over the sleeve of a dress Daisy had stopped to admire. 

But a sharp whistle caught your attention. It was instinctive for you to react to that whistle. It was his form of nonverbal communication back when you were running with the Van Der Linde Gang. 

Your eyes instantly caught his. He tilted his head just slightly, motioning for you to come to him. 

Though he hadn’t said anything else, the mannerisms made your stomach churn. Why hadn’t he said your name? Why was he hiding behind a column? 

“Daisy? Let’s go over to daddy.” You suggested, placing your hand between her shoulders. 

As you reached him, he took your hand and pulled you so that you stood behind the column too. Daisy was placed strategically between you both. 

“Daddy, there’s a dress-,”

“Sweetpea, I know you wanna look at dresses right now but there’s something real important that I’ve gotta discuss with momma, okay?” He looked down at her, brushing a few pieces of hair behind her ear. 

She nodded her head.

“There’s a couple of fellas outside.” Arthur lowered his voice as his eyes found yours. “Look over my shoulder around the beam behind me. “They’ve been looking in like they’re searchin’ for someone.”

You looked towards the window like he suggested and spotted the two men. They leaned in towards each other and then one looked back towards the window before the other looked towards the front door. 

“Do you think they’re any trouble?”

“I don’t know.” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck.

“Then there’s no need to panic just yet.” You put your hand on his arm. 

His eyes stayed on yours, a furrow nestled between his brows. He didn’t share the same thoughts as you. 

“We don’t want to upset Daisy.” You reminded him, looking down at her. His gaze followed yours. She was on her tip toes looking at a snowglobe that rested on the table next to the column. 

“You’re right.” Arthur sighed out, rubbing his eyes. 

“Everything will be okay.” You kissed his cheek and rubbed his arm. “Daisy? Why don’t you tell daddy about the dress you want?”

“Okay! This way, daddy!” Daisy turned and took off across the store.

Arthur smiled as he watched her weave in and out of the racks. 

“She’s very excited to pick out her own dress.” You told Arthur. 

“I know. Talked about it the whole way here.” He chuckled softly. He turned his head to check the window. The two men were still there.

“You know, I can go out there and distract them while you take Daisy out the back.” You took Arthur’s hand in your own and began to walk with him towards Daisy.

“I don’t want you to have to do that, Y/N.” 

“But if it’s what gets you both out of here safe, then I don’t mind it.”

“You think you’re any good at distractions?” His tone was teasing as he squeezed your hand. 

“Oh, I like to think I am.” You leaned against him a bit. “Back in the day, I used to distract this really fine young man. I did it so well one time that he nearly got run over by his own horse.”

Arthur laughed, putting his arm around your shoulders. 

“Hosea still won’t let me forget about that.”

“Good. It was rather foolish of you to be watching me instead of your horse.”

“I can list a whole bunch of foolish things I’ve done ‘cause of you.” He hummed quietly, pulling you closer to him. “But I wouldn’t change any of them.”

“You’re a charmer even after all these years. You know that?”

The bell on the front door to the shop rung, causing both you and Arthur to look in that direction. The two men that had been looking in were now inside of the shop. 

Arthur put his hand on the small of your back and began to rush you towards Daisy.

“Take her out the back.”

“What about you-,”

“Don’t worry about me-,”

“You can’t just tell me that!” You whispered loudly. 

“Hey, sweetpea?” Arthur put his finger over his lips, signalling for her to be quiet as he approached. He knew she would excitedly begin to tell him about the dress she wanted, but now wasn’t the time for that.

“What, daddy?”

“Mommy’s got to take you home.”

“What? Why?” She crinkled her brows together. “What about my dress?”

“Don’t worry about the dress, love.” You took her hand and began to tug her towards the back door. “We have to go–,”

“But momma–,”

“Daisy Jane.” Arthur knelt down to her level. “Look at me, sweetpea.”

Daisy met his eyes, her mouth pulled down in a frown. 

“It’s real important that you listen to momma, okay? She’s gonna take you home where it’s safe. It’s not safe here right now. I love you, you know that?” He kissed her forehead. 

“Daddy–,”

“I love you, Daisy.” He repeated, standing up to face you. 

Your eyes were glossed with tears. 

“No tears, pumpkin.” He murmured. He leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you.” 

You took Daisy’s hand and began to lead her towards the back door. You needed to get her somewhere safe. 

“Momma, why isn’t daddy comin’ with us?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer her. 

“It’s alright, love. He’ll be with us soon.”

***

You placed nervously on the porch. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains. It had been a few hours since you got home and the anxiety in your stomach was becoming almost too much to handle. 

You had thought about going over to Charles and Lucy’s house and maybe having Charles go to town and see what had happened, or even having them watch Daisy while you went into town alone. 

Daisy was inside playing with her dolls. Hosea was inside with her. Carson was laying on the porch, big brown eyes watching you. 

You were just about to turn to go into the house and get Daisy when you heard hooves beating against the dirt road. 

Carson lifted his head, ears perked as he listened. 

You looked down the driveway, one hand gripping the railing. 

The faint outline of a horse and rider came into view. It wasn’t until a few moments later when you could make out the rider that you felt you could finally breathe. 

Arthur was finally home. And he was safe. 

You sat down on the porch steps, realizing then how achy your legs were. You hadn’t had time to sit down since you returned home with Daisy. You didn’t want to sit down. You physically couldn’t bring yourself to sit. The anxiety of thinking about what could have happened to your husband was too much. 

Carson ran out to the barn to greet Arthur. The dog followed alongside him as he made his way towards the house. 

You wanted to ask him what happened, to know if those men were lawmen or just trouble. But when you tried to talk, your voice became stuck in your throat and tears sprung out of nowhere. 

Silently, he sat down next to you and put an arm around you. You didn’t notice the paper bag he placed on to the steps. 

“I know…. I know it was scary.” He kissed the side of your head. “But I’m proud of you. You did real good, you know. We haven’t had to do something like that in years. You did good, pumpkin.”

“I-I thought you were…. I was so scared, Arthur. I didn’t want to have to raise her by myself.” You turned to put your face into his neck. 

“I know. But I wouldn’t let that happen.” He kissed your head once more. 

The front door opened and Daisy ran out with her arms wide open. 

“Daddy!”

“Sweetpea!” He caught her, pulling her around into his lap. 

“You were gone! Why were you gone for so long?” She frowned up at him. 

“Oh, cause I was hidin’ from ya.”

“Daddy!” She crinkled her nose. Daisy looked over at you, taking note of your teary eyes. “Why are you crying?” 

She reached out to wipe your cheek off. 

“Cause I’m really happy daddy is back. I missed him.” You smiled. 

“I missed him too.” Daisy tucked her head into his neck. Arthur kissed her hair and squeezed her a little. 

“Don’t you worry, girls. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He assured you both. “Sweetpea, I got a little present for you.”

“A present?” She pulled away from him, looking around to see where her present could be. 

“I know momma and I told you that you could pick out your own dress, but- Well, things happened and that didn’t happen.” He picked up the bag and handed it to her. “Take a look inside and let me know if you like it.”

Daisy excitedly dug her hand into the bag and pulled out the pink and white dress she had been looking at. She squealed in delight and threw her arm around Arthur.

“Thank you, daddy! Thank you!”

“Aw, you’re welcome, sweetpea.” He kissed the side of her head. 

“I wanna try it on!”

“I’ll be in in just a moment to help you put it on, Daisy.” You told her. 

She scrambled to get off of Arthur’s lap and then ran into the house. 

Arthur watched her disappear through the door. 

“You think she’s upset about not being able to pick out her own dress?” He asked quietly. “I mean, I did tell her she’d be able to pick her own out.”

“Does she look upset, Arthur?” You reached out to cup his cheek. “She’s too young to understand why we had to leave the shop so soon. She wouldn’t understand even if we tried to explain it to her. All she knows is daddy brought her home a new dress and from the looks of it, Arthur, she really likes it.”

“Yeah, I reckon.” He ran a hand over his hair. 

You leaned over to kiss his cheek before standing up. 

“I promise you she’s perfectly happy.”

Arthur watched you walk through the front door of the house, leaving him on the porch. 

Taglist: @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday  @micahs-bird

[moonctzeny]

First Times

“Jae”, you whispered, gaining his attention, “We will still be best friends after this, right?”

He pulls you closer to him, making your face rest on his naked chest. He smelled like sweat and that intense body spray, like those days he came back from his basketball practice to meet you under the treehouse. He smelled like home.

pairing: childhood friend/ceo! jaehyun x fem! reader

genre: smut, angst

word count: 6.584k

warnings: loss of virginity, then not so virgin sex lol, squirting

summary: “Jaehyun had been your best friend ever since you were 7 years old, but after a certain incident he disappears, without informing you of his whereabouts. You had come to terms with the fact that you’ll never see him again until your paths cross unexpectedly, meeting as boss and employee”

a/n: I feel like ceo! jaehyun fics are overwritten so I tried to focus more on the childhood friends to lovers aspect, giving it a little twist

———————————————————————

There was no way that was him.

When you were 10 years old you couldn’t wait to have your first kiss. You were plain obsessed with the romance dramas that were playing on tv, your mom complaining about having to witness the same unrealistic tropes over and over again, but you stayed frozen in front of the screen.

Why were the characters so caught up in the thought of seeing each other? Why were they willing to risk everything they had for the other person? You were curious to find out about the love the grown ups talked about, and playing mommy and daddy with the neighbor’s son, Jaehyun, wasn’t cutting it anymore.

He was waiting for you in his treehouse, preparing his toys for your playdate. A table of pots and cutlery on one side of the room and a battlefield with ships on the other. He preferred when you two dueled for the “fate of your country”, but he knew you liked to play house so he compromised. One hour of what you like and one hour of what he liked, that’s what his mom had said.

You stomped inside, your pout not matching his excited smile.

“Finally, you’re here! Can we play my games first? My uncle got me new soldiers, look!” He ran up to you, a bunch of different green miniatures in his hands. You didn’t bother to spare him a glance, too caught up in your personal drama.

“I don’t want to play games,” you whined, “I want a boyfriend!”

Jaehyun blinked a couple times, confused. “But you have one, me. I am your friend and I am a boy”

You threw your head back in frustration, groaning so loudly that the rest of the neighborhood probably heard you. “Noo it’s not the same! We don’t kiss on the lips and stuff!”

The little boy came closer to you, scowling. He was starting to get really impatient with your whining over these dramas that you liked so much. So what if you don’t kiss and stuff? It’s no big deal anyways!

He grabbed your ears, bringing you closer to his face and he gave you a small peck. Your first kiss.

“There. Will you play with me now?”

When you turned 18 you exchanged your love for dramas with a love for art. You also exchanged your calculus workbooks for oil paints and acrylics, busy with piecing together a portfolio that would get you accepted into art school. There was one thing that stayed stable in your life, however, that followed you from childhood into adolescence.

“Hey, sorry for being late, basketball practice took longer than I expected”, Jaehyun apologized and joined you at his backyard. The treehouse had gotten too old for inhabiting but the trunk you were currently lied against served its purpose as your current hangout after school.

“Hey”, you sniffled and he finally noticed how watery your eyes were. He dropped his sportsbag immediately, and sat next to you on the slightly moist grass, your arms touching.

“I’m guessing Mark denied your offer to go to the prom with you?”

You nodded, hiding your face in his embrace before he sees you crying. Being Jaehyun’s friend wasn’t always easy. His easygoing personality and good looks on top of being president of four school clubs made him one of the most popular kids in high school. You reminded yourself that he’s still the same boy you’ve always known, that you don’t have to feel threatened by the army of girls always clinging by his sides, but it was hard. It was hard to recount your rejection from this morning when he probably has never truly felt that feeling before. Even with his college applications pending, you knew he’d be successful. Any institution would be crazy to miss up on him, and the rest of the world felt that way about him too.

“I don’t wanna talk about it”, you mumble, leaning back before you stain his t-shirt even more, “Did Mina find the dress she is gonna wear after all?”

Your genuine worry for his prom date, even after your failed promposal, broke his heart. You were always so empathetic, so selfless, so nice to him. He didn’t have it in him to let you stay in your state of misery.

“Nothing”, he blurted, rushing to explain after seeing the confused look on your face, “she bailed on me last minute”.

That was a lie, but you didn’t have to know that. Jaehyun cancelling on his date would be a dick move, he knew that, but you being happy was his priority. It always has, at least as long as he was still here. “So if you didn’t mind, I was thinking we go together? As friends of course”

“Jae! I love you!”

You tackled him with a hug, the grass tickling his neck and he just laughed at the adorable screech you let out. You both stayed there enjoying the chill evening, talking about renting cars and matching outfits.

He let you rant about the dress you’ve chosen to wear and he promised to convince his parents to leave his house empty for the after party.

The prom night was the last time you saw Jung Jaehyun. There you two were, sprawled out on his bed and tired off your asses, spending what seemed like the most fun night of your life together. Your feet were in blisters from all the dancing, head spinning from the after-party vodka. Jaehyun had turned his head towards you, tie undone and staring at a piece of glitter that had fallen on your collarbone. He looked as handsome as ever in his suit, red eyes glued on you and a satisfied smile on his face.

“Your parents are gonna be so mad when they see the mess on their carpet. I told you not to get Jungwoo drunk”

Jaehyun laughed, his deep laugh reverbrating through the room. “Not if you tell them in the morning. They can’t get mad at you. You told your mom you’re staying over, right?”

You nodded, maybe shaking your head a lot longer than needed but your tipsy self wanted to make sure you got your message across.

“You know”, you started with a snicker, “she gave me like a million condoms for tonight. Probably thought I was planning on losing my virginity like any teenager with a social life”

He kept staring at you, eyes lazily taking in the sight of your pretty smile. “Yeah, same with my dad. I think that’s the only reason why they gave me the house”

You whipped your head to face him at the speed of light, mouth gaped open and  staring at him incredulously. “Jae, you’re a virgin??”

It was hard to believe. I mean sure, you hadn’t had any experience in the sex department either but you were, well, you. Shy with new people, horrible at flirting and a bit standoff-ish if you were being honest. But your best friend, as likable and good looking as he was, had never been with a girl before?

“Well, yeah, I was just kinda- I was waiting for the right person, you know? Someone to make it memorable”

You sighed, relating with his words but also...

“I just wish I could get it over with”, you confess and you saw Jaehyun gulp visibly. He was glancing at the nothingness on his ceiling, lost in his thoughts.

“Yeah”

The silence lasted for a few minutes, only the distant sound of a passing police car interrupting it. He sat on his knees, the conversation sobering him up significantly. “Remember when you wanted to have your first kiss and I just did it so you wouldn’t complain about it anymore?”

You smile fondly at the memory, waiting for him to continue. There was somewhere he was getting at.

“Well, we both want to not be virgins anymore, right? So let’s just do it”

You felt an electric tension growing between you. It was like you were holding two magnets, begging to touch each other but you still held them apart, because if you let go you just knew things would never be the same again.

Jaehyun leaned in, dunking his head at the last minute and kissing your neck instead. It was tentative, a kiss that tested the waters. He was still holding back, wanting to make sure you wanted this as much as he wanted it too. You scooted closer to him, placing your legs to frame his closed knees, putting his face gently in your hands.

His pupils were dilated, shifting to a million places but your voice managed to make him concentrate to your eyes solely. You could hear his heartbeat bumping in his chest.

“Jae, I love you. You have to trust me, ok?”

“Okay” he nodded, eyes wide open and sincere, “I love you too, so much”

You kiss him finally, and the room around you spun even more. The feeling was strangely comfortable, yet your lungs were struggling to do their job. In that moment, it felt like everything in the world was the way it was supposed to be, and you two were a part of that bigger, perfectly orchestrated picture. 

He grabbed you by your waist, bringing you over his lap. His fingers danced from your thighs to the zipper of your dress, the cool midnight air spreading goosebumps on your back. You help him out by pulling your straps down, staying in your strapless bra.

“If I knew what was gonna happen tonight I would wear cuter underwear”, you mutter and Jaehyun chuckles. Why did your heart skip a beat at the sound? It’d be a lie to say you hadn’t found yourself staring at your best friend a minute too long in the past, but tonight- Tonight the effect he had on you held an intensity that you’ve never felt before.

“Underwear can only help you out so much. They can’t do wonders”

“Wow Jae, way to make me drier that the Sahara desert”

He dipped back down to your throat, sucking at the soft skin over your collarbones and earning an embarassingly high-pitched moan from you. You felt him smile against your neck as he licked over the nibbled flesh in little circles, wishing he would repeat that motion on another part of your body.

“We’ll see about that”

As if he wanted to prove his point, he grinds you over his erection, lighting your insides on fire. Your dress was short, meaning that you could feel all of him-and it seemed like a whole lot- over your panties that were damping up.

“Show me your tits and I’ll show you mine”

Jaehyun laughed at your comment; ridiculous yet successful at calming his ragged breath down. The buttons of his dress shirt opened one by one, each of them revealing another inch of his smooth chest. His skin was glowing, and his abs proved that puberty was starting to work its wonders on him.

You trace your fingers over two moles on his chest, leaving soft kisses over them. You could feel his pulse on your lips, fast and pumping blood all over his body. Despite his attempts at staying collected over the loss of his virginity, you realized that he was probably as nervous and scared as you are.

“Your turn”, he whispered, bringing you back into the moment. You reach back to unclasp your bra, freeing your boobs, and a smile cracked on your lips at Jaehyun’s reaction.

He stayed frozen and gawking at your chest, hands twitching and not knowing what to do with the sight you so generously offered him. Bringing his hands into your own, you place them over your mounds, guiding him into squeezing them. He continues on his own, pinching your nipples as he leans forward for another kiss, probably to hide his evident blush from you.

The making out continued, leaving you both with only your underpants on. He places you on your back, and starts petting your clit over your panties, the motion so soft it drove you insane. Hungry for more. 

You started whining, grinding forwards against his fingers and he chuckled, pulling the fabric away to leave you uncovered. The chilly air was quickly exchanged with the feeling of his warm digits, causing a different kind of shivering. 

When he inserted the first finger in you, you felt like your whole body was burning up with a high fever. You’d done this again, with your ex-boyfriend in summer camp but it definitely didn’t feel as sinful and delicious and pleasureable as this. It pulled at a knot in your stomach, begging to be untangled and Jaehyun was taking his sweet time with you. Quick circles on your swollen bud and a nibble on your neck, that’s what it took for him to enjoy you shaking through an orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful”

You looked angelic with the sweat trickling down your chest, skin glowing in the limelight and Jaehyun would just sit and stare if it wasn’t for the tent in his boxers that was screaming for attention. Pulling at the soft fabric, you sprung him free and the boldness that came when you did started to evaporate. It hit you in that moment, that he had seen all of you and now you saw all of him- yes you had been best friends for years but this intimacy was unprecedented. And you liked the feeling.

You put him in your grasp, moving your fist in a pivoting motion with his precum as your lubricant. He throws his head back with a grunt that almost made you cum a second time and urged you to pick up the pace. Unsure of what to do next, you licked your other palm and started to massage his balls hoping he liked it. He did by the sound of his moans, but stopped you abruptly, scaring you that you accidentally did something wrong in your inexperience.

“If you continue like this I’m gonna cum. Let’s do this“

You swallow on nothing and reach to your jacket on the floor for the condoms your mum gave you. 

“Want a pink one? A green maybe? Blue?”, you joke and he pets your hair lovingly, looking down at you.

“Blue. Your favourite colour”

You smiled warmly at his response, satisfied with your decision to share this moment with your best friend. With someone who knew you so well.

Unwrapping the plastic, you placed the rubber over his hardness with shaking hands, following the instructions as best as you could. Jaehyun leaned down over you, planting a dozen kisses over your face as he positioned himself over your entrance.

“Ready?”

You nodded, giving him permission to dip his tip in, the first inches stretching you out nicely. The wetness caused by your orgasm helped your situation a lot, the slickness allowing him to dive a little deeper. Then, the stinging started, making you hiss and he kissed you immediately, trying to soothe you.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. We have to go through the hard part now ok?”

The nickname playing over and over again in your head gave you the patience needed to endure him bottoming out, along with the first thrusts. It was uncomfortable, but the feeling of him inside you, of the two of you coming together as one, released some chemical in your brain that made most of the pain go away. He took his fingers from your hips to gently pat away the teardrops staining your cheeks.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so well”

His words and the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls drew a moan out of your half open mouth, the sound carrying on the air you two shared and landing on Jaehyun’s lips. There was a tension on your belly and something told you it wasn’t just physical, more like an emotional revelation, a fire already ignited but flared up by this incident. Your feelings towards your childhood friend, a love that was more than platonic.

For you, at least.

Jaehyun was young and you felt so tight around him that he didn’t take long to finish. He pulled out last minute, taking the condom out and spilling spurts of his cum all over your stomach. It earned a scowl and an eyebrow raise from you but the way he apologized, saying you “looked too beautiful to resist”, was too cute to stay mad at.

You laid back on his bed, holding hands and trying to register what just happened. The ocassional car drove by, the lights illuminating Jaehyun’s eyes that you noted were glossy. Maybe it was just as intense for him, you thought and squeezed his hands a little tighter.

“Jae”, you whispered, gaining his attention, “We will still be best friends after this, right?”

He pulls you closer to him, making your face rest on his naked chest. He smelled like sweat and that intense body spray, like those days he came back from his basketball practice to meet you under the treehouse. He smelled like home.

 “Forever”

Forever must have a different meaning in the Jungs’s dictionary, because after that night, Jaehyun was unreachable. You tried to text him, call him, only to be ignored and faced with stupid excuses.

You thought long and hard about why your best friend suddenly decided to ghost you. Maybe he didn’t like the sex. Understandable, since it was your first time, but it’s not like you promised him a night of mind blowing love making or anything. You decided that he probably felt too awkward to talk to you after that night and you told yourself to give him some space.

Three days passed, then another, then a week and still no sign of Jaehyun. Tired of the radio silence and irritated by his attitude, you got ready to visit him at his house, confront him one-on-one.

No, you didn’t wear your favourite perfume for him. It just so happened that you chose to put on that dress he had complimented you on before. You didn’t hope for him to call you beautiful again, or have a retake of the prom night fun. The butterflies in your stomach were probably the heavy lunch you ate. Yes, it was all coincidental.

You walked down the stairs with a pep in your step, storming through your parents in the kitchen.

“And were are you going so happy, young lady?”, your dad chirps and you smile at him.

“I’m gonna go see Jaehyun real quick!”

“Real quick? To a different country? He came back already?”

You stilled at the sound of your mother’s words, confused.

“A different country? I’m going down the street to the Jungs, mom”

“Honey, the Jungs are there but not Jaehyun. He moved abroad to study Business. Didn’t he tell you?”

The ground beneath your feet seemed to melt and pull you under the third level of hell. How could he get accepted to a university and not tell you? How could he move countries and not even say goodbye? How dare he make you fall in love with him, give you the best night of your life and then leave you hanging like that?

You ran upstairs to your room, wailing in what seemed like a mixture of rage and sadness. You felt so dumb, in your sundress and shaved pussy and cute underwear you chose out for him. It was all so, so unfair and the feeling ate you alive. The feeling that you hated Jung Jaehyun.

So now, when he stands from across the room, all suited up but with the additional rank of CEO on his shoulders you couldn’t believe that it was him.

Your portfolio did get you into an art school after all, majoring in product design. Your innovative work of rebranding the latest releases, taking on the aesthetic part of the marketing, landed you a great deal in J industries. The product was good and your skills were better, so when the sales went off the roof you weren’t surprised. What you didn’t expect however, was that the boss of your boss, who was currently staring at you from across the launch party, was your childhood best friend.

Ex-best friend.

“Damn, y/n, Mr. Jung hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all night, huh?”, said Sook, the assistant marketing director who was working by your side on the project.

“Well, he should have come over and congratulate me by now. I did help save his company”

She laughed lightly, unaware for how deeply rooted your dislike for the man really was. You continue your conversation when you suddenly see her turn visibly tense, sweeping her hands on the front of her dress. Oh, you should have watched what you wished for.

“M-Mr. Jung, how are you enjoying this party? This is y/n, she did most of the designs for the campaign-”

Eyes widening in shock, you get lost in some passerbys, meddling with the other coworkers in the gathering. Sook left a little yelp when she realized you had dissolved into thin air in seconds. You could still faintly hear her apologizing merrily.

“Oh I swear she was sitting right next to me Mr. Jung”

Chatting up with friends and even strangers, you made sure you never stayed in the same place for too long. Jaehyun’s eyes were still boring holes into your face no matter where you went, a smirk plastered on his own every time he caught you checking out for him.

In a last attemp to turn invisible, you find cover on a small couch, slightly hidden by some ballon decorations and you shoved a book to your face, faking interest. But alas, a dip in the furniture next to you and the familiar woody smell soon rang a bell of danger in your head.

“You know your book is upside down, right?”

Wincing at your fatal mistake, you turn around to be faced with a pair of brown eyes you thought you’d never see again. You noticed how they’re glowing in pride and ambition and remembered how they shined that night from tears, how you tried to read through him, just like now.

“Jung. Got bored of your little staring game?”

Jaehyun had grown an inch or two since you last saw him, you notice, standing even taller in his exemplary posture. He still stuck with his long hairstyle, locks styled back sleekly and exposing his defined cheekbones. His skin was even paler than usual, glowing in the dark room. Being a CEO probably meant staying inside a lot, making tanning for his complexion almost impossible.

“Considering you applied to my company, y/n, I figured you’d come to me now as well”

Why was he using that voice around you? You‘d made fun of him numerous times in the past for that deep tone, only coming up when he was trying to woo some girl.

“I didn’t know it was your dumb company”, you start, rolling your eyes in annoyance, “I’m surprised you even remember my name”

“How could I forget the girl I went to prom with?” And took my virginity, you wanted to add but knew he censored his words on purpose. “Also, Sook mentioned your name like, five minutes ago”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about”

His silence was uncomfortable, thickening the atmosphere even more. You saw regret and guilt in his features, lips struggling to find the right words and hands fumbling with his tie.

“I know you’re mad, rightfully so. But please, come over to my place for a drink. For old time’s sake”. The deep voice was persistent and that’s when you realized that Jaehyun wasn’t a teenager anymore. So many years had passed since that summer, enough to mature you both physically and emotionally, yet the wound stung still so freshly.

“You can’t just choose when to re-enter my life so easily”, you huffed and started to walk away from him, when you felt his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist.

“y/n, please. I’ve missed you. One drink, that’s it”

It was so annoying, you thought as you entered his condo, how his dimples were still so effective at convincing you. It was quite luxurious, definitely bigger than your apartment and by the looks of the fancy furniture, his hard work as CEO surely paid off. 

“You like it?”

“Not as much as your treehouse but it’s okay”, you reply him and he grins at the reminiscence of your old shenanigans as children.

“I’ll bring the wine”

You snooped around a bit more, examining the decorations of his living room. It was quite minimalistic, an abstract painting or two, a weird sculpture, no family pictures in sight. You always hated places like that, so lifeless, so impersonal. Jaehyun had too rich of a personality for that.

He sat on his leather couch, placing two glasses of white wine in front of him and motioning you to sit down as well. You took a seat as far away from his as possible and he winced at the distance you kept, now also turning physical. 

Jaehyun started a conversation by asking you about your work at the company, then moving on to your personal life. You politely answered him, even joked about how single you are. He started recounting the start of his company, how he got the idea to begin from scratch and the hardships that came with it. As it was expected from the bachelor’s vibes his place emitted, CEO position didn’t allow for enough free time for him to meet someone new, let alone something serious. Your little meet up seemed to be going well. Too well to be exact. One glass down and you finally had enough of feigning ‘happy old friends catching up’.

“Why did you bring me here Jaehyun? Really bring me here”

The man sighed at your tone, running his fingers through his hair and messing their gelled-up styling. Getting up from his position, he finishes up his second glass and sits closer to you, body facing yours.

“I guess... I owe you an apology. For back then. I should have told you I’m moving abroad”

“Yes, Jaehyun, you should have. Especially after what we did before you left”

He closed his eyes in shame, glossy after he reopened them. A serious expression darkened his features, looking as solemn as that last night you saw him before his disappearance and hanging from your lips. “Do you regret it? Going through with it?”

“No”, you answer immediately, because it was the truth. All the guys you’ve slept with in your time as an adult, though more experienced than high-school Jaehyun, were missing that one factor that none other than your best friend could offer you. Connection, vulnerability, care. True love.

He sighs, once again, clearly relieved by your answer but still speaking in a bittersweet tone.

“Good, I would really hate myself if you did. I was just, so scared you’d forget about me. I had to know you’d remember me. Then you said this whole thing about wanting to have our first time and-“. You knew it was the wine in his system that caused his rambling. Jaehyun wasn’t one to stumble on his words, definitely not sentimental like that. But alcohol seemed to bring you closer when in need and at the right time so you let it, once again, and you let him finish. “-and you looked so beautiful that I couldn’t help myself. If I knew you’d grow up to look like this I would have never-“

He stopped himself mid sentence, regretting sharing more. You, however, weren’t done with this conversation yet. There were so many years spent repenting your friendship, so many questions running through your head, and you weren’t leaving this room until they got answered.

“If you didn’t want me to forget you that much then why not tell me you got accepted to a university abroad? I was your best friend!”. Your words were emotionally charged, unwillingly making your voice turn up in volume. It was as if you turned back into the little girl crying in her bedroom, finally getting the chance to say all those things she was screaming in her pillow. “I would be so happy for you, I loved you”

“Yes you did! You literally said that every single day!”, Jaehyun yelled back, startling you, “And every single time it was as if you jabbed a knife in my chest! Did you know how much it killed me? To hear this from my best friend I’d been in love with for the past 10 years?”

“You- you were in love with me?”, you ask dumbly, voice light in disbelief, a stark difference from Jaehyun’s a second ago.

He settled his breathing, hands fixing his hair once again in abashment.

“I knew that if I told you I had to go abroad you would get all sad and start crying and I wouldn’t be able to see you like that. I knew that the moment you’d tell me you miss me I would drop everything to be with you. That night that we had sex.. I didn’t plan it but I thought it would be better for you if I made you hate me. And when I saw you again today- it felt like not one day had passed since high school. I didn’t know how to approach you, what to say. I’m sorry”

You sat there in shock, connecting the dots in your brain. All the feelings you were trying to repress around him, the lingering glances and butterflies in your stomach, were reqruited all along. You knew exactly what he meant earlier, about time seeming to freeze. The way he looked at you now, all teary eyed and red and shaking was utterly and overwhelmingly the warm Jaehyun that met you every night after school. And you wouldn’t let another day go to waste.

You lean forward, capturing his lips into a kiss long overdue. It was tentative and you started pulling back when he places both hands on the sides of your neck, keeping you from letting go. His fingertips grasp part of your hair and you lean your face sideways, melting into the kiss and his touch. A lick on his bottom lip and now your tongues were touching, groaning at how much better he got at this and wanting to put his skill to better use. Tugging on his soft locks, he moans and his baritone voice made the hairs on your arms stand on edge.

You moved your hands on his chest, palming the defined muscles and deciding you wanted to treat your eyes, ripping his shirt open in one move. Jaehyun grabs the meat of your thighs, hands gripping the edge of your dress and pulling it upwards until it falls over your head. He dipped into your neck immediately, sucking and nibbling passionately right in the middle, your moans sounding breathless with the pressure he puts on your throat. Trailing down, he left a path of open mouthed kisses, now focusing on the mounds of your breasts that your bra wasn’t covering. A flick of his wrist and the piece of underwear was gone, lips surrounding your nipple, releasing it with a loud pop.

You moan out his name and his growl’s animalistic, nails digging on the softness of your hips.

“Fuck I love that sound”

He probably made it a goal to hear it again as he started kissing on your inner thighs, the bruises he left behind teasing you to the point of begging. You lift you hips to discard the skimpy underwear you chose for tonight, Jaehyun’s breath fanning your clit. A few kitten licks and your back is already lifting from the leather, his hands intertwining with yours to keep you in place.

Practice makes perfect and Jaehyun must have had a lot of it, the interchanging of sucking, licking and spitting on your pussy making you lose your mind in the most delicious way. You were in the midst of murmuring a mix of praises when he finally finds that spot that has you trembling under his tongue. Riding out your high, you grind against his face, the pleasure not leaving any room for shame. Chest heaving and vision restored, you glance down at Jaehyun, looking as irresistible as ever wiping his wet lips and chin.

You were fully prepared and willing to return the favor so you motioned him to stand up, positioning the back of your neck over the hand rest of the couch. After opening your mouth wide he got the point, quickly ridding himself off his pants and boxer briefs, spitting profanities at how hot you looked for him right now.

You were upside down, but you could very well see Jaehyun’s hard and angry cock staring back at you. You always thought that maybe, since he was your first, you might have overestimated his size in your head. But your brain apparently hadn’t manipulated that memory in the slightest because that length and grith would definitely be a challenge for you. And hell, did you want to take it on.

He pushes through your lips, and your tongue is quick to engulf him. Licking up and down his shaft as best as you could, made Jaehyun grip the couch in an effort to keep his knees from buckling from pleasure. The position allowed him to push even deeper inside you, filling up your throat. He places his fingers over the bulge on your throat, watching it itently with every move of his hips.

Your eyes teared up and your throat started to burn but the sounds Jaehyun let out with every thrust made it all worth it. He finally pulls out, a string of saliva and precum landing on your lips and he is quick to to clean you up with his fingers. Collecting the wetness, he pushes his digits inside your mouth, and something changes in his glare, eyes darkening in the most lustful expression.

“I need you inside me”, you mumble with his fingers inside of you and he nods, asking if he should go get a condom. You search through the contains of your handbag, hands trembling with the way he is pushed up agaist you, erection digging in the softness of your ass as he’s nibling the skin on your shoulders. 

You handed him the square foil and as soon as he takes it in his grasp, he pushed you down to the arm rest, back against the cushion and legs in the air. Moving your hand between your legs, you distracted him by playing with your pussy, speading the juices around and pushing your folds apart to direct him to your opening.

The first thrust felt divine, thick cock filling you nicely and making your head fall back in pleasure. Jaehyun threw your legs over his shoulders, eyes glued to yours as he kissed your calves, picking up his pace. The moans started rolling off your tongue, echoing inside the big lounge and accompanied by the skin slapping sound of your bodies.

“I missed your body so much”, he muttered as he gripped your waist, setting an incredible pace that had your feet flexing. You turned your head to the side, catching your reflection on the huge window leading to the balcony. Tits bouncing, Jaehyun’s flexed arms, his dick digging inside you. What a sight.

“See something you like?”, he chuckled darkly and you smiled up at him, grazing your nails over his biceps.

“Show me something to remember you by”

Jae halted his thrusts, turning you over to your stomach swiftly, ass in the air. He kneaded his hands over your ass, giving it a little spank and spread your cheeks apart. Placing his right knee on the arm rest, he dives inside you again, and the moan you let out barely sounded like you. His cock was so deep inside you that you had to close your eyes to relish the feeling of fullness, amplified by the light pain of the stretch. Jaehyun collected your hair in his fist, pulling your upper body against his chest as he wrapped an arm around your own.

“Open your eyes. See how nicely you take my cock. Think you’ll forget that?”, he growls in your ear, thumb digging in your cheek and palm slightly muting your sounds. The dirty talk, his cock grazing against the spot that drove you crazy and Jaehyun’s godly reflection pounding the shit out of you brought you over the edge again. He didn’t let you take any time off, hips continuing to bruise against you as feverly as before, and you thought you just might combust.

“Jaehyun, p-please, it’s too much”, you plead with as much power is left in your system, and he pulls out, only to start rubbing quick circles over your clit that had you thrashing in his arms.

You melt into his arms, a pressing feeling in your belly that you had never felt before and soon you climax for the third time, droplets of cum squirting out of your pussy and dripping onto the wooden flooring.

“This is so fucking hot”, Jaehyun mutters and starts thrusting inside you, trying to coax as much cum out of you as possible.

The waves keep coming, gushing out of you every time he pulls out, until he can’t take the sight anymore, coming with a shiver and a ragged breath.

You were sweaty and exhausted, smiling faintly as he showered you with kisses.

“Let’s get you cleaned up”

You try to stand up futilely, knees wobbling and unable to keep your balance. Jaehyun chuckles at the sight but helps you up like the gentleman he is, moving you to the floor’s bathroom.

You hop in and he joins you, letting the water run down your body and helping you soap up. It was very intimate but comfortable at the same time, his gentle caresses belonging to your skin. Everything felt right.

He was occupied with running his fingers over two hickeys he had planted on you earlier when you snap him out of his thoughts, voice barely audible over the running water.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to lie to me to go study abroad. I think it’s pretty obvious after what we just did that I liked you too, but... I still would have let you move. Force you even.”

“You’re right. I’m sor-“

“I mean it Jaehyun. I’m so proud of you”

His eyes glimmered at your praise, wet eyelashes framing them and fluttering closed as he leaned down, pressing the sweetest kiss on your lips. It left you breathless, almost hurting when he pulled back. You could kiss him forever.

“I know you said I can’t just come back to your life like that but I want to try. I’ve seriously missed you”

“How about taking me to a date tomorrow night? To catch up some more”

He grinned brightly, eyes turning into crescent moons and dimples making your heart burst.

“Wherever you want”, he promised and took a step closer to you, hand snaking down your ass and pulling you against his wet body, “And speaking of making up for lost time... How about a round two?”

[mypoisonedvine]

Spoiled | Bruce Banner x reader

(semi-sequel to my fic sugar, but you don’t need to read that to understand this!)

summary: it’s the first time you’ve had your boyfriend all to yourself for Christmas, and he makes sure it’s a holiday you’ll never forget.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: smut!!, infidelity (bruce is married, guys), wedding ring kink, damage to a very expensive dress (lol), daddy kink, sugar daddy relationship

Normally, Christmas is reserved for the wife, as it ought to be.  But this year, Bruce had surprised you with a promise: you could finally spend Christmas day with your boyfriend.  You weren’t sure exactly how he got out of spending the holiday with his wife, but he’d picked you up a few days before and driven you to a gorgeous secluded cabin somewhere upstate.  Obviously you assumed it was a rental, so the fact that he’d bought it along with the four acres it laid on was a bit of a shock.  Still, you were beyond giddy to have a few days alone with him, cuddling up in the big warm bed and admiring the snow-laden forest just outside the windows.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured against your skin as you just started to wake up— and yes, you remembered that it was Christmas day.  Any day spent waking up in his arms was a good one, Christmas or not.

“Merry Christmas,” you greeted in return as you spun around to kiss him, wrapping your legs around his waist.  

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pretty girl,” he chuckled as he slid your legs off of him, “don’t you wanna get up and open your presents?”

You rolled your eyes because of course he had to get you something, even when you told him not to.  "I don't need any presents, Bruce, just having you here today is enough."

"Couldn't help myself.  You're so easy to shop for, you look good in everything.  Besides, I like dressing you up almost as much as I like undressing you."

“So it’s something to wear?” you deduced.  

“Just get up and get ready, okay?”

You nodded and slipped out from under the quilt, dashing to the bathroom to splash your face, brush your teeth, and maybe throw on a little makeup so you wouldn’t look like you’d just woken up when you had, in fact, just woken up.

Slipping on a red plaid robe, you returned to the living room and found Bruce lounging beside the tree in his fuzzy house pants, distractingly shirtless.  As much as you were compelled to kneel down and bury your fingers in that black curly hair that deliciously blanketed his chest, your attention was redirected to the long, flat box in his hands.

“Open it,” he encouraged as he handed it to you, circling around to stand behind you and stroke your arms as you gently tore the paper open.  It was just a white cardboard box underneath, lacking in any labels so you had to pop the top off to see the garment inside.  "You like Balmain, right?" he asked softly with a smile.

It was gorgeous; silk, it felt like, in a deep forest green that was almost festive in a way.  "Bruce this is…" you trailed off, dropping the box and holding the dress at the shoulders, letting the fabric unfurl and spill down until you could see the whole dress.  "This is too nice.  I can't let you spend this much on me."

"Oh, it wasn't that expensive," he lied, "now go try it on."

You started to protest, but he cut you off with a kiss, resting his hand on the back of your neck and pulling you closer.  You melted into his arms instantly, completely forgetting where you were and what you’d been talking about as your eyes fluttered shut and your lips slotted against his.  When he pulled back, you were barely aware of what he was talking about when he whispered: “go try it on.”

“The dress!” you remembered.  “I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t really need to leave the room to get dressed, he’d seen you naked plenty of times, but you figured it would make the grand reveal that much more exciting.  Just putting it on made your skin all tingly, the soft fabric making you shiver as it brushed against you so delicately.  The mirror wasn’t super helpful, too small to see how you looked past your shoulders, so you decided that you’d have to trust that you looked as good as you felt.

Seeing your heels just a few feet away, you dashed to grab them; they would perfectly complete the look, because it would be kind of odd to wear Balmain while barefoot.  Sure, they were a bit uncomfortable, but it was worth it to see him turn around to the sound of your clicking heels, his jaw nearly hitting the floor as he watched you step closer.  “What do you think?” you asked shyly.

He got up and approached you, his expression heavy with desire and making you shiver.  He knelt down before you, looking up at you with dark eyes as he slowly— excruciatingly slowly— pushed up the skirt of your dress, his thick, rough fingers tickling your thighs.

You just had a thong underneath, lacy and delicate, meaning you felt it all too well when he licked you through the fabric.

"Ffffuck," you sighed, "Bruce, baby…"

"Y'like that, pretty girl?"

You nodded breathlessly, trying not to let your knees buckle when he did it again, reaching down to dig your fingers into his hair.  "Don't stop, daddy, please."

He did stop, but only for a moment so he could gently hook a finger under the fabric and pull your panties aside, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin of your mound.  Finally, his lips latched onto your swollen clit, and you moaned lowly.

You were normally pretty good at standing in heels, but this posed a new challenge.

When he found a pattern of sucking your clit, fucking you with his tongue, and doing this positively obscene thing with his teeth that you couldn't describe but made your knees weak, you were soon barreling towards the point of no return.  "Bruce, fuck, I'm close— gonna come, please let me come…"

He only nodded, not stopping his work for even a moment, and you clutched his curls tightly as your hips rocked against his face.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy," you chanted breathlessly as the coil finally snapped, a new gush of warmth spreading between your legs as you quivered above him.  Your vision went black for just a second, head thrown back into a silent moan as you held your breath until all your noises broke forth all at once, somewhere between a scream and a sob and a sigh. 

"Fuck, such a good girl for me," he purred, giving your sore clit one last luck before he instructed: "get on the bed," encouraging you with a little shove back towards it.

You spun to face away from him and get on your hands and knees atop the plushy mattress.  Your face heated up as you heard him laugh.  "I meant on your back, princess.  God, you're a slut."

Embarrassed but aware that his words were more a compliment than anything else, you rolled onto your back and spread your legs as he climbed on top of you and slotted his body between them, shedding himself of his pajama pants until his thick cock bounced back up to slap against his stomach.  You bit down on your lip, wishing he'd given you a chance to put that cock in your mouth (because it looked fucking delicious) but losing that train of thought as he ran his hands all over your body through the silky fabric of his gift to you.

Suddenly, with a deep growl, he grabbed the dress at the neckline and ripped it open right down the front.  "Bruce!" you yelped in protest; your heart broke for the expensive dress destroyed, but your thighs clenched together at the sight of him tearing through it like paper.

"I'll buy you a new one," he sighed flippantly before diving in to roughly grope your breasts, littering your chest with kisses and stopping to teasingly suck your nipples along the way.

"Daddy," you whimpered, "please fuck me."

"Not gonna make you wait much longer, babygirl," he promised, "just tell me you love me."

It made your chest tighten and your cheeks warm, but you were happy to oblige.  "I love you," you whispered.

"Once more, with feeling," he requested.

"I love you," you said again, a little louder.

He grinned, hovering over you as he pushed his cock down to slip inside you.  You gasped and clutched the sheets beneath you as he moved deeper, his lips catching yours in a slow kiss.  "I love you too," he replied gently before he began to fuck you in a way that was… anything but gentle.

"Fuck," you sobbed, wanting more than anything to arch your back and throw your head into the pillow, but you couldn't with your lip caught between his teeth.

You'd adjusted to his cock quite a bit since the first time you hooked up with him nearly two years ago, and yet it still felt like he was stretching you impossibly wide as he fucked you hard and deep.  You figured at this point that you would never become fully accustomed to his size; you sort of hoped you wouldn't, because you liked the edge of pain that danced up your spine each time he entered you.  When he hooked your leg in his arms, lifting it to rest his shoulder, he pushed even deeper and you whined beneath his heavy weight.

"So deep," you whispered.

"I know, baby," he whispered back.  "You feel so fucking good, princess…"

It was impossible to keep track of the flow of time at that point, so it couldn’t been minutes or hours that he spent inside you, taking you apart perfectly piece-by-piece.  You couldn’t keep track of how many times you came, either, aware only of an overload of sensations coming at your body from every angle.

He kissed you as he reached his own peak, mumbling your name somewhere between the movements of his lips against yours until you felt like you were floating just from the way he said it.  You stayed that way for longer than you expected while he caught his breath, before he rolled off of you and you both sighed as you stared up at the ceiling.

"Fuck," he groaned, "that was… intense."

"That's rich coming from you, considering I'm the one that just got my cervix pummeled."

"I wasn't too hard on you, was I?"

"God no, it was amazing," you laughed, "but still… damn."

"I don't know about you but I worked up quite an appetite," he grinned.  "I'm gonna get up and make blueberry pancakes, you want some?"

"Do you even need to ask?" you smirked, and he leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips before he slipped on his pants again and dashed off to the kitchen.

As far as Christmas mornings go, you weren't sure it could get much better than an expensive gift, getting dicked down like it was the end of the world, and blueberry pancakes.  

[xsarcasticwriterx]

Feel better

Summary: After tony's death you felt broken and bucky felt lonely with his best friend being gone you and bucky got closer and just needed to feel better 

Warning: Smut, F/M, Oral (F receiving), no protection (wrap it before you tap it mates),porn with plot, is dog tag kink a thing pfft, minor angst, minor spit kink, fluff at end, teeny tiny daddy kink

notes: So I've never written smut but i've read a ton so.....let's see how this goes

You laid in your room wondering what to do. you and tony were very close and his death tore you apart. returning to the avengers facility hurt you as every time you looked around the place you were met with another reminder of tony. 

Bucky also felt the same. Everywhere he looked he saw steve and while he had sam who also felt the same pain it was still tough for him. you two had gotten closer from this pain. from understanding. Even if steve wasn't dead he was gone which almost felt the same. you were staring at the ceiling this lack of sleep wasn't something new. some days it just replayed in your mind. Tony snapping, him falling to the floor, the blood, the empty look in his eyes. you grumbled and sat up. throwing on a shirt and socks you rubbed your face.

you stood up and walked to bucky's room. you lightly tapped on his door. “buck” you whispered. you heard movement and soft steps. soon the door opened and a shirtless, messy haired, half asleep bucky answered the door. “hey...” he said softly his voice deeper from sleep. “hey sorry did I wake you?” you asked. “no no same as you just couldn't sleep.” he said. 

he opened the door welcoming you into his room. you walked in looking around. you knew his room by heart you were there so often. you sat on his bed and buck sat next to you. you leaned onto his shoulder. “wanna talk about it?” he asked. you two had a very intimate relationship most thought you two were together and you'd be a liar if you said the thought never crossed your mind but you doubted it crossed his. “It just keep replaying over and over.” you said finally letting the tears fall down your face. “It won't fucking stop” you said as bucky pulled you into his lap. you put your head on his shoulder. he soothed you, rubbing your back as you cried into his shoulder. “i know” he whispered into your hair.

“its ok” he said softly. slowly you calmed down. “It's not ok...” you mumbled. “I just want it to stop...I need the pain to stop even if just for a little bit” you said looking up at him. you became very aware of how close you are to him. he made a face like he had an idea. “I can stop the pain” he whispered his breath touching your lips. “how?” she asked. he moved forward. noses touch he leaves a little bit of space for you to be in control of if you wanted this to happen or not. you pushed forward latching your lips onto his. y'all move in rhythm but desperate. His lips feel soft, he taste sweet and minty. his lips move harder. he lightly bites your lip make you gasp. he pushes his tongue into your mouth moving it around almost like he wants to taste every bit of you. you start to grind on him desperate for any bit of relief. He groaned into your mouth. he pulled away starting at your jaw soft nibbles and lips trail along his path. soft mewls escape you mouth. he nibbles on your ear. you breathing gets louder and deeper as his lips go down your throat. he bites and soothes it with soft licks. you bite you lip trying not to moan. “don't stop it baby girl i wanna hear you scream” bucky says into your ear. you softly moan. you grind harder into his clothed cock. “ look at you baby so desperate for my dick” he says into your collarbone. he pushes your shirt up to your chest asking you to remove it. taking the hint you pull it off.

“so beautiful” he says as he palms your tits. you moan. he takes your left boob into his mouth palming the other. your hands grip into his shoulder. “off” you say between pants pulling on his shirt. he pulls away from your chest with spit dragging from his mouth. he removes his shirt showing his scars and dog tags. you trace the scars along his body. he looks at you full of lust and care. “beautiful” you say. your hands move to his dog tags. “hot” you say smirking. he smiles and softly laughs. you pull them bringing him forward. looking down at him you kiss him deeply. still holding on to his tags. he flips you both. your hand releases from the tags. he sits on his knees between his legs. he unbuttons your pants and pulls them down tossing them aside. he kisses you again roughly. kissing your neck. god that was going to marked to hell.

he kisses between the valley of your chest. “these are....” he said then licks the nipple of them both “perfect” he says. your moans grow louder. you become a whimpering mess under him. he kisses to your underwear. he bites the top and pulls them down and off. he throws them somewhere. you sit up kissing along his chest to the top of his pants “too clothed” you say against his dick. he groans at the vibration. you unbutton them and pull them down. he kicks the pants off. you palm his covered cock. he pushes you down. he hovers over you admiring your face. his tags dangle over your face. you take them between your lips. Buck smiles making you smile. “so perfect” he says touching your cheek. you release the tags from your mouth. he kisses down your body biting and licking down to your core. he kisses against your thighs marking them. “please....buck” you say whimpering.

“so eager.” he says licking your thigh. he kisses right to your lips. he kisses it softly like kissing a mouth. he licks a strip through it. you moan loudly making him smile against you. “buck stop teasing” you beg. he laughs against you making you squirm. he puts his arm over your hips “no movement” he says. he licks your clit playing with it on his tongue. He sucks it and licks it. he spits watching saliva move down your hole to the bed. his tongue moves inside your hole. he tongue fuck you at a hard pace. he pulls his tongue out. “delicious” he says smiling up at you. his pupils are dilated and spit is dripping from his mouth along with your wetness. his fingers enter your hole as he licks your clit. 

you scream and whither under him. his tongue and fingers going at a speed that was insane. he licked over and over. his finger and tongue pushing in and out. you scream his name over and over. your walls closing up on his fingers “cum for me baby” he says causing a vibration down your body. that made the band snap in you. you scream his name pushing his head closer to keep his actions going. he keeps pushing you through your orgasm fingers and tongue still going. once your grip on him loosens he pulls away looking up at you. he looks wrecked as do you. his hair is a mess you wetness is spread on his face and fingers his eyes are almost not blue from how dilated his pupils are.

you grab his tags pulling him down to kiss you. “need” you kiss him “your” you kiss him again “cock” you say with one last kiss. he smiles and pulls away. he pulls off his underwear almost too slow. his cock springs free. its long and thick. veiny and beautiful. he hovers over you. “your sure about this” he ask making sure. you nod repeatedly. he nods. he pushes into you slowly too slow for you. wrapping your legs around his back you push him into you fully. he laughs lightly “so desperate” he says. he pulls back to the tip and pushes back faster and harder into you. “so” pull. push. “fucking” pull. push. “perfect” pull. push. 

“faster. please” you say out of breath. “absolutely sweetheart.” he says speeding up. the bed shakes as he pushes into you over and over again. the speed and intensity is blissful. he keeps going speed increasing with every push in and out. his fingers find your clit and rubs it at the same speed he pushes in at. his tags drag up and down the valley of your chest as he moves. “god your so tight and perfect” he says still going. your walls start to squeeze his cock signing to your orgasm coming “buck....buck....jesus im going to cum” you say out of breath. he goes faster if that's even possible. pinching and rubbing your clit. he mouths your chest. the stimulation becoming too much. your walls squeeze around him and you moan bucky's name repeatedly. he quickens his pace to not only get you through your orgasm but chasing his. you grab and kiss him your hand trailing along his body. his rhythm starts to break. “cum for me daddy” you say against his ear. and with that he cums into you. his head fall onto your chest. 

“feel better?” he ask. “much” you reply. he pulls out and lays next to you. you feel his cum leaking out of you. he reaches down and gets the cum on his fingers. pulling his hand up he puts it to your mouth “lick” he says. you do as he says and he smiles. “perfect” he says before sitting up. he walks to the bathroom cleaning himself and coming back with a cloth. he cleans you and throws the cloth into a basket. he lays back down pulling you into his arms. you head lays on his chest and legs tangled together. “y/n...” he says softly. “yea?” you reply. “I love you.” he says almost a whisper. “I love you too” you say cuddling closer to him.

[kenthoescore]

High As Fuck

Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

cw : nsfw, minors dni!, non-con, degredation,fingering, daddy kink, mentions of drug use

wc : 897

this is my first time writing this kind of thing oml forgive me😭

--------

You were high.

Roaming the streets of your hometown, with no intentions to go back to your toxic household. You were better off without your family anyways, you would’ve run away a long time ago if you weren’t broke.

Your family has always been toxic, but things were different when your parents are meeting people, or in church. They were obsessed with the perfect picture family, it was true.

The people in your neighborhood looked up to you like you were some kind of saint, the epitome of all things good, and pure.

You scoffed internally, clumsily avoiding the rock in the empty road. If only people knew who you really are underneath that innocent façade.

The news of a curse named Ryomen Sukuna spread like wildfire, you have heard that its main target was women and children. The thought disgusted you.

What a sick bastard.

No information about this curse gave you a clue what it looked like. You’ve never seen a curse in your life either.

It's certainly not a human being, you thought.

“Oh! Y/n!" Your friend, Itadori waved from the other side of the road catching your attention.

Forcing your lazy limbs, you waved your hand back to him. He was always this cheery, and in a light-hearted mood whenever you see him.

You watched Itadori cross the street, and walk beside you. He enthusiastically wrapped his arms around you, you didn’t question it or move away from his, you were pretty close with him anyways. It didn’t bother him when he inhaled the scent of smoke and alcohol from your clothes.

He knew anyways.

Unaware of the sudden change in Itadori’s appearance, you continued to walk with him. You have no clear idea of where you were going.

You refuse to go back home; you simply cannot tolerate the level of toxicity in that household.

“Hey, Itadori. Think I can stay ‘n your house tonight?” You groggily asked your friend.

“You can stay there forever, darlin’.” His voice became unmistakably deeper, with the deep husk in his voice.

You halt your steps and faced your body towards Itadori, placing your hand just above his chest, you drunkenly said, “Since when did your voice became insanely attractive, Itadori?”

You could’ve sworn you saw his unfamiliar smile, which made your insides tingle. What the fuck?

He let out a deep chuckle and carried you in his arms.

You had to be tripping, his face was filled with dark ink and he had four eyes.

“I think I hit too much,” you mumbled.

“Oh yeah? What a fucking disgrace, you are.”

A chill went down your spine when he looked down at you, you can’t help but shrink at the intensity of his stare.

“Itadori?” You stuttered; it was coated with uncertainty.

Are you sure that this was Itadori? Or were you too high to notice the difference between a friend and a stranger?

Blink.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been watching you, baby.” He growled, burying his face where your shoulder and neck meet. The familiar ceiling of Itadori’s room was above you, and the unmistakable porn posters plastered on his room. It's definitely his.

“Dressing up like a fucking angel, and acting all innocent.” The confusion was pushed away as you savor the feeling of his warm hand stroking your inner thigh.

You feel the soft click of your skirt’s clasp being undone, harshly discarding the thin skirt. You were left in your black thigh highs socks and your pink cotton-laced panties with a ribbon on top. The chill of Itadori’s room, biting your lower body.

“Fucking whore.” His deep voice said.

This was not Itadori, at all.

“Itadori!” You screamed, you were in his room, he had to be here somewhere. Unfortunately, you were high, and your attention span was of a fucking fish named Dory. You bit your lips as his cold fingers danced on the outline of your pussy through the thin layer of your panties.

“That brat’s not coming for you, baby.” His mouth suckled on the soft skin on your neck, it stung a bit as he used his teeth. It was sure that it was going to leave a mark. You tried pushing him, with all your strength but he didn’t budge.

You didn’t stop calling your friend, begging him to save you from this monster. However, the more you called from him, the rougher the man goes on you.

Your top was long gone, you found yourself under the man, only in your underwear and socks.

His hands groped your mound and harshly ripped your bra, making a shocked gasp leave your lips. You could feel the grin on his lips, enjoying your reaction as he suckled on your nipples.

“Mmh!”

His other hand slowly creeping down to your pussy.

You closed your legs but it didn’t stop him from reaching it.

You were too embarrassed to let him feel your dampness.

“Ah!” A sharp sting traveled to your body as he slapped your cunt.

A lewd moan rang through the four walls of the room, as he inserted three fingers inside you without notice. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, stretching almost painfully.

"So fucking tight." He grunted, meeting your eyes clouded with lust and hunger. "Bet you like that don't you, whore?"

Whimpers escaped your lips in response, holding onto his wrist as he moved them roughly, quickly finding your g-spot.

“Be a good girl, and open those legs for daddy.”

[littlefreya]

The Way To Hell - Final Chapter

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man on earth. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped while a trained assassin is sent to bring him down. 

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤

Word count: 5k (including epilogue) 

Warnings: 18+, smut, boomer Walker, some fluff, sexual intercourse, cock-warming, mentions of torture, implied insanity, slight mentions of gore, violence, murder, mass-shooting and death. Please proceed with caution  

A/N: The ending is here and I hope I did it justice, I hope I did right by you. I will reblog my kudos, but first I must thank @agniavateira for being my beta and a source of inspiration and @raspberrydreamclouds for the cover art. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Now allow me to die out of stress and anxiety.

Title: See You in Hell

Down by the valley, there is a serenity that exists only in fairy tales. Damp grass caresses her naked back, the pointy little tips ticking the base of her spine, leaving a fresh trail of dew. Pure mountain mist breathes life through blue hills caked with ice; white fog vales over the forest’s lush greenery and looms above the lake’s water like a lost-love phantom.

Lying with her eyes shut, she listens to the harmony of life surrounding her: the little fish bouncing in the river, the butterflies procreating mid-air and the hummingbird chirping with bliss. Yet the most beautiful sound is the low, melodic baritone humming and reverberating against her inner thighs. 

”Angel, With those angel eyes Come and take this earth boy Up to paradise.”

”Boomer Walker…” she teases, “Is that a song from your time?” 

Ascending a trail of kisses up her pelvis, he scoffs and shakes his head. “I’m starting to suspect that you have a kink for older men,” he answers with a throaty growl, shifting his weight further over her abdomen. The soft fur of his torso grazes between her thighs, and she sighs with pleasure. 

”Do you want daddy to fuck you?” 

”That’s gross!” she curls her nose and tries to hit his head playfully, but August snaps at her wrists with perfect instinct, pinning her hands against the wet meadow. His tongue flicks over the slant of her neck while he aligns his cock at the little piece of heaven between her legs.

Sensual yet rough, his massive girth splits her walls while his lips shower her with honeyed kisses. Ingvild throws her head back, lacing her fingers with his and coils herself beneath his large body. 

“August...” she pants, feeling the air gradually diminishing from her lungs with every thrust, “I think I’m dying...”

Never halting or slowing his rhythm, August lowers his head to peer into her eyes. Fingers drenched with blood snap at her jaw.

“Stay with me, Ingvild.” He demands, letting out a husky groan, though his voice is but an echo.

A grey, thick mist wafts around the darkening forest, covering her with a bone-chilling breeze; his calling carries on the distance.  

“Stay, princess...”

“Don’t leave...”

“Stay. We’ve only just begun.”

Ice bites its sharp fangs into the little creases between her cracked bones as another bucket filled with frosty water showers her trembling body. The stabbing pain lasts for a lingering moment, reminding her that she’s still very much alive.

It must be the 10th bucket, or maybe 12th? She lost count at some point. Day and night melt into one another in this place, and the hours don’t make much sense.

Muffled complaints vibrate in her ears. Vaguely her sight picks on two silhouettes arguing when the world abruptly flashes white, and her jaw soaks a terrible blow. Fully crashing onto the hard marble, she tries to recover, but a sudden kick rips through her abdomen.

“Your methods are too slow, Issac!” A grey-haired agent chides, standing over the girl with his foot still drawn, “Walker could be setting his bomb somewhere across the globe any minute now, and you’re taking your sweet time with her as if she’s an art project.”

The scrawny torturer frowns and turns his back at him. Walking toward the metal desk, he browses through different equipment. “My methods always work, the pretty little girl was taught to endure pain,” he grunts in exasperation and gestures at the bloodstained bandage around her hand, “she did this to herself.”

Sighing with a mixture of frustration and disgust, the CIA agent takes another swing at Ingvild’s torso, the pointy edge of his shoe colliding with the scar at her gut.

Bloodshot eyes rise with wrath, violent tides of aftershock course at her viscera. She peers at the men through the haze of pain when a third figure appears in the room, standing calmly whilst Issac and the agent argue among them. 

Tall, broad, and charismatic, the handsome man strides toward her. His tailored steel-coloured suit envelops his statuesque body as if he is made of iron.  

“You’re taking it so well, princess,” he praises in his deep, melodic baritone while crouching down to take a closer look. Ingvild lifts her head, slowly breaking into a weak grin. Onyx orbs replace the storm-touched eyes, but that chiselled face still belongs to her beautiful monster.

“Did you tell them anything about where I am headed?” he asks and gives her a pout, reaching his index finger and thumb to squeeze her bruised cheek affectionately. 

Swallowing the aching dryness in her throat, she manages to shake her head meekly. “No… I said nothing,” her voice cracking as she whispers. Her chapped lips stretch into a pale, awkward grin. 

Tiny lines form at the corner of his void-like eyes as he smiles back, radiating with dangerous delight.

“That’s my good girl.”

The grey-haired agent throws a glance over his shoulder, scrutinising Ingvild while he stands next to Issac, who is twirling a scalpel back and forth between his boney fingers.

“Who is she talking to?”

“Not very sane this one,” Issac explains as he examines the silver blade against the light, “multiple mental disorders, dissociative personality, psychotic.”

Pushing the agent aside with his free hand, Issac steps forward. He leers at Ingvild, who stares at nothing for a long second before averting her eyes back at them. 

“We just need to dig a little deeper and the little bird will sing,” he exclaims and moves closer before dropping to his knees. One of his icy hands lands on her shoulder, forcing her flat on her back. Shuddering at his frozen touch, she closes her eyes; in the bleak nothingness, she recalls the night in the lake where August let her die.

“Pretty little Ingvild, have you heard of vivisection?” Her torturer asks as he lines his twig-like finger over the spine of the scalpel. Sensing his digits sneaking beneath the hem of her shirt, she shoots her eyes open yet remains still and intrepid. 

The tiny black marbles beneath Issac’s brows glint with twisted joy, appeased at the sight of the scar as he exposes her torso. Ingvild expects the pain of the blade when something tepid and unpleasantly wet slithers across her gut like a little pink slug. 

“Umm… Issac…?” The agent interrupts, furrowing his brow with confusion and disgust as he stares at his colleague licking the girl’s torso.

“What?!” Issac snaps at him, his eyes narrowing with spite, “you wanted me to go harder on her!”

“Yes, but…”

“But shut up and let me do my job!” He yells and returns his glare to Ingvild who blinks at the ceiling silently. Disrupted by his touch, she bites her tongue, fighting to hold back the acrid substance that threatens to emerge from her gut.

“You fight very hard to protect a man who doesn’t give a fuck about you, little bird,” his snake-like voice hisses as he leans down to half-whisper in her ear, “just tell me where he is and I won’t cut you open.”

Ingvild sucks the air in through gritted teeth and turns her head to look away from the obnoxious little man. She seeks for her beautiful monster, finding him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. August’s empty glance wears a calm grin.

“He is in this room,” Ingvild jests faintly, her sardonic laughter stretching thin, her chest heaving, exhausting whatever strength is left in her muscles. August’s smirk widens with hers, large dimples are slicing into his cheeks.

Ticking his tongue, Issac allows the sharp edge of the scalpel cut a skin-deep line into her flesh. Ingvild stares at him stoically, not moving a muscle as shy drops of blood begin trickling down her navel. 

“Are you sure about your response?” he asks, ghosting the scalpel over her abdomen while crooking an eyebrow.

Ingvild bites her lip, pretending to think about her answer for a few seconds. Lifting her head up, she inches her lips toward Issac’s ear. The scrawny man listens intently. 

“August Walker is the devil, and the devil is everywhere.”

A peal of sinister chuckles spills from her lips as she throws her head back onto the ground, staring at Issac’s disapproving glare. 

But her laughter soon dies. 

Taut pressure pierces into her flesh, the blade penetrating deep, cutting through tissue and muscle as if it was soft cheese. Ingvild clenches her jaw, her mind flooded by charring white light that dismantles every thought while the blade continues to swerve.

For a brief moment, she finds herself in Bergen, hands covered with thick blood, holding the gushing wound in her stomach with shock. August stands above her, toying with his favourite knife and staring at the red taint. 

“Time to fall, angel.” 

Scattered musings run behind her eyes: Liam, the nuns at the orphanage, August, and even Erica. She’s reminded of every hit she was forced to take, every country she visited, all blending into a bizarre parade of death. 

“C’mon girl, just tell us where he is!” She hears the other man shout as he steps closer with an urgent expression. “Just give us something, a country, a region, anything to make this stop, you can still do the right thing.” 

The heavy stench of iron fills her nose; the warm, thick liquid trickles down her bare skin, spilling in a cross on the map of her torso. The pain now is undeniable, making her lips heavier as she makes an attempt to answer.

“I don’t…. know… any August.”

The CIA agent scoffs violently and balls his fists. “Deeper!” He orders Issac, who like a composer, trails the blade further through her gut, cutting into sinew and brittle tendons. Ingvild trembles, feeling her body grow weaker. 

In her mind, she can hear caged screams.

“You will die for a man who doesn’t even care if you bleed!” The agent rasps, spit coming out of his mouth as he rages above her.

‘Stop!’

“He won’t even remember you once you die!”

‘Resist, don’t show pain. You’ve been through this before, you already died.’ 

“No one will.”

Swallowing every ounce of pain, she fights to remember her training, her past. Her mind scrambles for Fjellstrekninger forest, for the green pines and their stringy needles, for the scent of beech and the damp ground. She tries to imagine the silver-blue mountains of Bergen, that last time she hiked there before going to meet Liam at the gas station. 

How strange that at the very same day she encountered the most wanted man on earth, not knowing she was destined to be his. 

But none of these images appear before her.

‘You can’t escape this.’

Her screams shudder through the entire floor. 

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” 

August flicks his tongue over his bottom lip, glowering at the driver who gawks at him with disbelief and shakes his head. Pushing the phone against his chin, he stares forward at the rainy road, reciting in his mind the words of the MI6 and CIA apostles.

‘Erica captured a woman in her late 20s, having her tortured for information for a couple of days now. Can’t promise you she’s alive. No one goes in there.’

“I wasn’t asking,” August answers, throwing him an icy glare, “we’re taking the chopper to the Mi6 fortress in London. I don’t need to tell you what happens if you question my decisions.” 

The driver tenses his fingers around the steering wheel and shakes his head once again. He means to say something, but the scowl on August’s face shuts him up right away.

“Who is she? What is she to you?”

August huffs and lowers his gaze, eyes dropping to the plutonium case and then forward through the windshield, watching the heavy rain clouds that stretch before the sky. As he blinks his eyes shut, his mind plays a vision of an inferno; cracked ground and scorched skies. He sits on a throne made of bones and drinks wine from a chalice made of human skull. 

His angel sits on his knee, naked and pure, her iridescent wings tucked against her back. She stares at him with a smile full of admiration, her fingers brushing over his moustache. 

‘Your angel of destruction.’

“She’s just an asset.”

‘Hell lives inside you August, it always has. Rotting you from the inside as it begs to be let out. And you will unleash it, won’t you? Your suffering must be shared.’

Vast shadows gather outside the double-pane windows of the main hall. The thick storm clouds paint the sky pitch black, swallowing the stars alive one by one. Light wanes just in time for the harbinger of chaos to march into the well-secured lobby of the sizable Mi6 fortress.

If fairytales were to be true, the devil would arrive riding a monstrous mare with hooves made of flames. But if anything, he is but a man in a tailored suit and a long trench-coat. The leather soles of his midnight-black shoes squeak as he marches on, leaving a trail of mud on the cream-coloured marble.

“Evening sir,” the security guard greets and gestures August to pass through the large weapon detector with nothing but a quick exchange of knowing looks. 

The corners of August’s lips curl into a small smile beneath his moustache while he scrutinises the surroundings. Gold and pearly pillars spread across the vast hall, a false facade hiding a decaying world and the self-indulgent ghosts that harbour it. So lost in their own little lie, it takes them more than a few minutes to notice the hellhound who stepped into their haven.

It begins as a small rumble, like a seismic wave. The first tremor vibrates through the ground and the walls follow with a convulsing shudder. Gasps, chatter, and widened eyes stab at him with shock, yet they all seem to suffer from the same affliction. 

Standing paralysed, they ogle at the most wanted man on earth as he combs his fingers through his hair and walks toward the elevators located at the end of a narrow, red corridor. Unapologetically confident and ever so relaxed and condescending, he ignores them. 

A true king among peasants.  

“Is that?...”

“What the fuck?!”

“How the fuck did he pass security???”

His confidence is nothing but theatrics, as his blue eyes carry toward the large elevators with a glossy sparkle breaking on his corneas. He tries so hard to envision her beautiful face yet all he sees is a pile of dry bones.

“Stop! Hands in the fucking air, Walker!”

‘Ah, took them long enough.’

Standing between the carpeted walls of the narrow corridor, only mere inches from the silver doors, August slowly spreads his long fingers and lifts his hands in the air. His keen ear catches at least three firearms as the guards cock their guns at his direction, panting with fright. 

“Turn around so we can see you, piece of shit!!!” A presumingly young hero barks behind him. 

“Someone call Director Sloane down here right now, she’s not going to believe it!!!”

The soft rumbling in the lobby grows into impending thunder. A flash of pale purple lightning floods the lit vicinity for a split second, echoing the small grin that spreads across August’s beaming face.  

“Oh, I don’t think so, son,” he speaks serenely, almost like a tender fatherly coo. Not bothering to turn, he tilts his head up and inhales sharply.

“Go.”

Sharp gasps of shock and terror reverberate between the walls of the fortress as sudden darkness veils the main hall. The smell of their fear is almost as delightful as the strong smoky scent of gunpowder. Like shooting stars, the rapid gunfire pierces through the night. Cries, incoherent screams, and panicked gasps make for a beautiful concert, so much that he wishes he could stay, but he has a girl to rescue.  

‘If she’s still alive…’

Swallowing the bitter bile, he enters an elevator and presses the button for the basement level. He watches the flickering beams of light as his men continue to execute the remaining agents before the doors shut in. 

Drawing out his handgun and relieving the safety, he leans against the shuddering metal and stares at the neon red number while reminiscing on the day he met a pretty girl with an unpleasant smile.

“Too bad, I would have loved to see you again.”

“Well then, if our destinies were meant to be entwined, you will.”

The basement level seems completely abandoned and eerily silent. No wails nor cries carry on the chilly air. 

His Ingvild is forbearing, she would never show her suffering. Would she? 

Inching toward the interrogation cell, his hand runs across the naked concrete walls, sensing the coarse texture against the pads of his fingers. Opaline droplets of sweat bead his forehead and his lungs sink with the effort.

Muffled voices perk his ears the closer he gets: two men, no woman. No sounds of violence, no signs of her in there whatsoever. 

‘Angel, are you being brave for me?’

Arriving at the door, he takes a deep breath and gingerly pushes the handle. The pungent scent of salt and iron pervades his nostrils as he steps a foot into the shower of blinding white light. The brightness hurts and for a moment it feels as everything before him fades. 

Until his sight sharpens and he notices the two shadowy figures standing with their backs facing him. They look like vultures preying upon a corpse.

Her corpse.

‘No! Change this! Make this right!’

Wings of cherry-dark blood spread from her snow-pale body. Motionless, his girl lies with her top huddled around her chest to expose her bleeding gut. 

‘You are too late…’

Pure, undistilled rage burns within August’s throat, so ferocious it stings in his eyes, making his entire body tremble. He lifts his hand and fires the gun hastily, shooting both men in the back of their heads before they even get the chance to turn and look at the man who executed them. 

“Ingvild!” August pants, rushing and falling to his knees before her. 

“Angel?” He presses one hand to her gut, trying to pressure her gushing wounds while his fingers etch around her nape to pull her closer to his face. Blood, still sticky and warm, tarnishes his clean outfit while he cradles her in his arms.

“Please don’t do this to me…” He whispers, shifting his hand to caress her bruised face, recalling the last time she was dead in his arms. 

The world kept spinning on its axis when she died back at the lake. So why does it feel like right now it stopped in its place?

Pressing her to his chest, August shuts his eyes and shudders with fury. All emotions come to life, and every one of them hurt.

“You are not here…” 

A deep quivering sigh of relief soars from his throat, mouth cracking into a smile at the sounds of her hoarse whisper and delicate moans. Blinking faintly, Ingvild half-opens her eyes and stares at him through heavy lids. 

“I am here,” he whispers, brushing away the sticky strands of hair from her face and squeezes her cheek beneath his thumb, “I came to take you, we have to go.”

Shifting his arms, he tries to lift her up, but his petite woman is suddenly made of the heaviest rocks; her stiff muscles protest in his grip, making it impossible for him to manoeuvre her out of fear she will bleed to death. 

“We were both at the garden,” she mumbles drowsily, licking her bloodied teeth before breaking into a maddened smile that quickly dies as she depletes her remaining strength. “I’m tired, I want to stay here and dream.” 

“Ingvild, we don’t have time for this,” August warns with concern, noticing how her eyes roll back and her lashes flutter shut, “there’s a helicopter waiting for us on the roof. You have to get up, you have to survive this, you have to come with me! Please!”

Fat, oily tears roll down her temples, mingling with the blood and tangy sweat on her face. Opening her eyes again, she peers at her beautiful monster, recognising the familiar ocean and its eternal unrest. 

Did he come here for her, or is it just a dream?

“Why?” 

‘Tell her.’

Brow lifting and face softening, his hands clutch her tightly. He rocks her from side to side, holding her protectively. Ingvild senses the wrath that pours from his heart, the thundering beat throwing its fists against his ribcage as their bodies collide.

“You know why,” August suggests huskily, nearly begging, bargaining not to admit, not to say the words he was always so afraid of. But naively, her gaze pleas in return, the child-like innocence piercing a hole through his chest. 

“Tell me,” she begs him.

‘She needs you to say it.’

“Because I need you.”

The words nearly crack on his tongue, his throat suddenly so dry it sears. He glances down at the fallen angel, sensing the most excruciating thirst, where the only way to stop it is by stealing several deep kisses from her lips. 

“I need you by my side,” he murmurs above her lips between desperate, helpless kisses, hoping to breathe life into his weakened valkyrie, “stay with me, angel.”  

An awkward stretch tugs at her cheeks, hurting as if someone slices them with a blade from side to side. For the first time in her life, true laughter crisps her face, followed by crystal-like tears that run down her sullen eyes.

“I love you, August.” 

Every nerve in his body tingles with tendrils of light, reaching out deep within his gut and spreading throughout his tendons. For a moment, he feels divine, sanctified by the words of his angel, his woman, his by free will. 

Offering her a brief smile, he captured her lips for one last stolen kiss. His thick moustache scratches at her tender flesh while a little hum plays on his tongue. 

She tastes like blood and honey - the tarty flavour of victory.

“We have to go now, princess, I have to finish this.” 

Gingerly rising to his feet, he hooks a hand below her knees and places the other against her bruised spine. Bloody footprints trail behind him as he carries her outside the white room, trying to make for their freedom.

Locked down in her office, Director Erica Sloane inhales and exhales by practice, brushing a hand through her sweat-slick hair while trying to call every backup unit. Bullets still rip through the air in every story; the sirens howl while red lights flicker from outside. She puts her hands around her ears, trying to shut the noises out, uncertain if the screams she is hearing are her people still being slaughtered, or her mind playing tricks.

Walker is many things: an idealist, a manipulative snake, a monster. But this is a side of him she never anticipated. There is no need to question his motives this time. She is smart enough to figure it out. 

To risk so much, a man must feel deeply for a woman.

Her anxiety spikes as guilt seeps in when her phone suddenly rings.

“Director Sloane,” she pants against the receiver. Somehow, as she hears the deep, measured breath, she knows.

‘Walker.’

“Hello, Erica, did you miss me?”

Erica clenches her jaw and stares spitefully into nothing, “Hardly.”

She hears him scoff from the other line, her mind piecing together that horrible, pretentious grin of his. The bile climbs up her throat just from the vision. 

“We don’t have much time, but I just wanted to thank you.” August pauses, sighing with the bliss of a madman at her ear, “You see, if not for Lacey, if not for you kicking me to the curb the way you did - I would have never become what I was meant to be. And you sent me an angel to light my way…”

“You’ve manipulated her.”

“No, you did,” August interrupts calmly, “I set her free. I will set them all free and unite them.”

The anger simmers in her gut to the point of nausea. She holds her breath, counts to ten and tries to gather her thoughts. ‘August wants a bargain,’ she thinks, but for a reason, it feels like he already won.

“Can you come and look out of the window for me, please?” He asks politely. 

Turning her head at the window, she narrows her eyes and bites her plump lips with hesitation.

“If I had a sniper on you, you’d be dead 5 minutes ago,” he assures her. 

She gets up from her office chair slowly, her fingers reaching to uncover the blinds. The storm weakened, yet heavy clouds still loom from above like a noxious mist. She seeks for August on the horizon, listening carefully to the sounds on the line. She realises they are coming from above. Her sharp eyes detect the helicopter: far, yet close enough to see his shit-eating grin and that hand that waves at her. 

He has the girl with him. Who knew a monster could care.

“You know, you are the only woman in the CIA I haven’t fucked.” He provokes and then hangs up suddenly.

Erica watches as the helicopter takes off, her eyes widening with fear as the notion of her own demise resonates like a stinging slap.

The blast takes her along with the entire building within a split second.

Standing on the cliff by the edge of the valley, August stares down at the tranquil scar that swerves amidst lush, fertile mountains. The crystalline Indus river lies before his eyes, its sweet water so clear that the sky mirrors upon the brim.   

It’s not every day when a simple man becomes a god. 

The melancholic beauty of nature makes his fingers tighten around the detonator, thumb ghosting over the button as he allows himself a couple of last seconds to inhale the air of the old world. 

Oh, how many will die for this god to receive his halo.

‘I wish you were here, my Ingvild…’ August muses with anguish, feeling an awkward jab at the spot where his heart should have been.  

A sudden rumbling noise of a helicopter makes his gut weave. 

‘That better not be Ethan fucking Hunt! I should have thrown him off the cliff in Norway!’ 

Alarmed yet stoic as ever, he draws his gun, aiming it at the aircraft inching its way to land on the other side of the flat terrain. The last thing he needs right now is someone meddling with his affairs, but it quickly becomes clear to him that if someone wanted a monster like him dead, they would have sniped him from the air before he could even see them coming. 

‘Did you forget the woman is nothing but a valkyrie?’

“What are you doing here?” He calls out at Ingvild and frowns at the pilot, abruptly struck with anger. “I specifically asked to make sure she stays rested!”

The pilot shrugs while Ingvild makes her way toward August with mild effort. Dark circles rest beneath her eyes, yet she is still so very beautiful to him, especially when she frowns. 

“She was very persuasive and horrendously stubborn,” the pilot retorts. 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” August mutters to himself and watches the little battered woman making every attempt to remain stoic as she steps closer. A shadow of a malicious grin creeps on her frosty eyes. 

Once upon a time, she promised him she will always find him. She has no intention of breaking that promise.

“Did you think I’ll let you do this without me, August Walker?” She sulks at him as she finally moves to stand in front of him. Every nerve in her body is inflamed with pain, yet the thought of not being here at the birth of the new world brings greater agony than imagined. 

Something she compares to missing out on the birth of a child.

“We are in this together now, this is our cause, our better world. You don’t get to leave me behind.”

Her hand reaches for his wrist, thumb pressing to feel his quickening pulse. Wonder paints his eyes and his lips gape softly. He promised himself Lacey will never cross his thoughts again; yet he can’t help but think about that night in his study and the pain of betrayal.  

‘How is she even real?’   

Gently peeling her fingers off his wrist, he looks at the detonator. He then takes her hand in his, placing the device in her slender grasp. 

“Forgive me, my darling. You’re right,” he apologises and turns her over to view the horizon. A shiver surges through her as she senses the weight in her palm when August moves to stand behind her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“We do this together.”

Pesky little honeysuckles flutter within her chest as his arms wrap around her carefully. One of his hands holds hers, raising it up slightly to position the device in front of her chest.

“Do it angel, set them free.”

Taking a deep breath, Ingvild slides her fingertip over the red button. Scattered images of her life briefly flash through her mind, ending with the single moment where their gazes first met that day in Bergen.

Bright heavenly light cleanses the sky and loud thunder rips through the earth. Standing on the trembling ground, August and Ingvild stare into the distance while slowly turning to face each other. They hold their hands together, both gaping with awe as rich golden hues pour into the sky. 

Enamoured, and lost within one another’s beauty, they share a long, lingering kiss. 

Epilogue. 

Sharp and heavy, the blade split the wood in half as if it was made out of soft butter. Resting the blunt side of the leaden axe over his shoulder, he pauses and observes the pile of firewood on the ground. His lips move in silence as he counts before crouching down to pick up another log and place it on the stump. 

Strong shades of pink and orange spread between the clouds, kissed by the drowsy sun as it makes its way to slumber beneath the earth. It’s been 8 months since the coming of their new world. Even though there is still work to be done, August decided a hideout was necessary to let her mend her wings. 

“Loki!” 

Ingvild rushes into the green field with a wide, toothy smile. Feral rivers of chestnut-brown reach the small of her back, floating behind her as she runs around giggling.

‘That smile, like honey. So pure, so real.’

Playful barks answer her call, and a German Shepherd puppy appears from across the green hill, jumping over one of the logs ecstatically and wags its tail.

“Careful or I’ll cook him for dinner,” August mutters and points the axe at Loki’s direction. The pup tilts its head at him and barks with playful rage, growling and baring its needle-like teeth.

Ingvild pauses and gives August an icy stare before grabbing the large puppy and holding him to her chest, “You’re a shitty liar August Walker, you love him. Always sneaking him bacon when you think I'm not looking and snuggling him in your sleep.”

August shrugs, brushing away her comment before sticking the axe into the tree stump. “Get inside, time for dinner.” A small grin stretches on his lips as he sees her walking away, kissing the puppy on his wet little nose. 

The scent of cedarwood burning at the mantle and brewed coffee welcomes her home as she enters the cabin, immediately filling her chest with mellowness. She allows Loki down on the ground before walking into their cosy bedroom where she removes her trousers and remains in an oversized sweater and black thigh-high stockings that August gifted her after they left Kashmir. 

When she returns to the living room, August is sitting at the study with his laptop open. A small wrinkle lines his forehead while he runs two fingers over his moustache. A map and coordinates are visible on the screen, along with a messaging platform which she only assumes is a conversation with one of the apostles. 

Loki lies guarding at his feet.

“Come here, princess,” August calls, reaching out his arm toward her. “I have something to show you.”

Sneaking toward him like a large feline, Ingvild takes his hand and lets him guide her to his lap. Her legs fall to each side of his thighs, and August rests his chin at the small crook of her neck where it always belonged.

“What are you looking for?” She asks, casually pulling the sleeve over her wrist to scratch at a peeling hammer tattoo gracing her skin.

“Don’t touch it, let it heal.” August answers and takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers together tightly. An illustration of an angel wing decorates the same spot on his arm. As she glances at the way the black ink is embedded into his flesh, she can’t help but smile and ever so slightly grind herself on the semi-rigid bulge beneath her ass.

August growls against her neck, grazing his stubbles over her supple skin before reaching a hand to unzip his tracking trousers and pull out his swelling manhood. After a soft scuffle of her panties, he lifts her hips and slides himself fully within her wet, angelic cove. 

“August…” She sighs, fluttering her eyes shut for a split second, embracing both pain and pleasure. When August fills her, she is ethereal, as if a piece that was missing all her life has finally made it back home.

“You always look so beautiful with me inside you,” he murmurs against her neck, planting bristly kisses down her jawline before returning his glare forward. Ingvild only moves slightly above him, swaying slow and smooth on his thick, throbbing girth and squeezing him tight between her walls to relish in their bond.  

“I have a present for you.” He opens a tab on his browser while his fingers toy with her clit with surprising tenderness.

“What is it?” She moans as he presses down on her sensitive pearl.

“I found Liam,” he explains, a twinge of pride and a spit of revenge hanging on his baritone. He growls slightly as her cunt clenches around him by his words. “He’s hiding out in Sao Paulo. I plan to bring you his head.”

Sucking on her bottom lip, she grinds a little harder, feeling August deep in her gut. The temptation to ride him hard and rough is too great, but this sweet slow torture always brings her to a higher ground of ecstasy when they finally fuck. 

“Can it wait, my beautiful monster?” She asks sweetly, reaching her talons to clutch his thigh as he pushes further in and bottoms out inside her with a grunt. “I’d like to stay here for a while and be your angel for a little bit longer.”

August lifts his cerulean gaze back to Ingvild, the clear sky in his deep irises slightly darken as he observes the serene look on her face. His hand rises to cup her chin and turn her head to the side to meet his possessive lips. He cages her mouth with his, devouring her with the lust of a hungry man.

“You will always be mine and mine alone Ingvild,” he promises as he ends the kiss with a nibble on her chin. Ingvild licks his saliva off her mouth and stares back at him with the oxymoronic union of innocence and sinister urge before she leans back and continues to look at his plans.

‘Who is she to you?’

‘She is my queen, and I am the king of hell.’

_______________________________

Additional Notes: Song lyrics by Elvis Presely - Angel. Additional Inspiration by Nine Inchs Nails - We’re in this together. 

Disclaimer: I own no rights to Mission Impossible’s franchise or August Walker.

[jiminspjm]

stuffed full + namjoon k.

pairing: kim namjoon x reader

word count: 5.4k

genre: smut, some fluff at the end hehe

warnings: 18+! size kink, unprotected sex, namjoons fat dick (he’s huge oops), use of daddy … im sorry, pet names, breeding kink, mating press, oral, fingering, nipple play, i used the term daddy IM SORRY, praise kink, cockwarming, use of ‘whore’, dirty talk, this is filthy and this was basically an excuse to write smut because im a whore <3

sypnonsis: “i want every single piece of you.”

playlist: i miss you - adele : pearls - samantha gongol : U R - monsta x

dedicated to @rmverse i miss u and hope u are well muah, my favorite namjoon hoe 👹 <3

namjoon couldn’t keep his hands to himself. muffled moans came from your mouth as he kissed you. tongues clashing, as his large body pinned you against the elevator walls. his hands were stuffed down the front of your panties his fingers flicked your clit.

“hhh-namjoon-!” you whined, as his plush lips began to trail down your clavicle to the neckline of your sundress. how long was this elevator ride?

your voice fell on deaf ears as namjoon slipped his fingers inside you, scissoring them against your tight walls. with his freehand he pulled down the front of your dress, taking one of your pert nipples into his mouth. a ragged moan came from your lips as you felt your legs wobble from the sensations of his tongue rub your nipple. looking up at you, namjoon felt his cock harden at your head thrown back against the wall, chest rising. he swirled his tongue around the peak, nipping it gently. pulling his fingers from your soaked underwear, he pulled himself away from you. you breathed heavily as you watched him slip his fingers into his mouth, sucking your juices. you kept eye contact with him. licking his lips namjoon grinned at you as he pulled your dress up, then trailed a hand to your neck, gently holding it as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“im going to take you into your apartment, and make you come over and over, until you can only remember my name, would you like that little one?” namjoons deep voice rasped into your ear. groaning, you nodded as your hand found his massive bulge, straining against his slacks.

taking a deep breath namjoon swore under his breath as he pulled away from you just as the elevator finally reached your floor. grabbing your hand, he rushed you to your apartment, pulling out his own key you gave him. quickly inserting the key, he unlocked it and rushed you two inside. not even turning the lights on, he pushed you against the door, large body covering yours as he kissed you.

you heard a thump as you dropped your bag onto the hardwood floor, him quickly doing the same. teeth nipping at your swollen lips, namjoon groaned as your hand rubbed against his erection. his tongue licked around the seam of your lips, coating your arousal along your mouth.

“namjoon-ah! please can we go to my room?” you managed to get the question out as his lips trailed down your neck. licking the valley of your breasts, namjoon didn’t even answer as he picked you up, causing you to yelp as he wrapped your legs around his large figure.

kicking off his shoes, he navigated his way to your room in the dim lighting. after a few moments he entered your room, tossing you gently on the bed. the only light emitting was from the city that glowed through your floor to ceiling windows. your body bounced slightly, causing you to giggle. leaning back on your elbows, you could see namjoon smile at you, as his fingers traced down your legs to unclasp your sandals.

sighing as you felt him massage your sore feet, you laid down on the bed and streched your body. after a moment you felt the bed dip, and cool finger tips slid up your thigh, and under the hem of your dress. your breath became labored as you felt the fabric rest against your hips. you looked up at your ceiling, holding your breath.

“what cute panties you have on,” namjoon said lowly, followed by silence. “would be a shame if-“

before you could register what was happening, you felt the fabric snap. sitting up quickly, mouth agape you looked at your boyfriend.

“namjoon! you asshole those were my-!” before you could even get a sentence out you felt namjoons warm tongue on your drenched center. your words faded into a moan, as you gripped his hair, pushing his face further into you.

“oh fucking hell, please!” you don't even know what you were pleading for, namjoon chuckled against your pussy. pulling at his dark roots, you felt your legs begin to shake as he kept your thighs apart with his hands. plunging his tongue inside you namjoon worked the muscle, in and out, flattening it against your hole. you moaned, the noise echoing in the quiet room. you felt yourself clench as namjoons large hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs. his fingers began to trail up to your boobs as his fingers tweaked your soft nipples.

pushing yourself into him harder, you began to grind against him. his tongue pushed itself further into you, his fingers still plucking at your sensitive nubs. throwing your head back in pleasure, you released his head to grip the headboard. you pulled your lip between your teeth as you felt your legs shake from your boyfriends ministrations.

“fucking hell namjoon, please! y-you know they’re sensitive-!” you whined as he moved his face back and forth, ignoring your cries as he slapped your tit gently.

finally, pulling away from you, he slowly licked his lips, looking at you in the dim lighting. he smirked slowly, pulling himself up from between your thighs. leaning in towards you, he placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“you taste divine, little one.” he said, his voice husky and low. breathing harshly, you pulled his mouth to yours by the collar of his shirt, not caring if you could taste yourself. you kissed him deeply, as your fingernails dug into his dress shirt. namjoon groaned against your mouth as he grinded his clothed erection on your bare pussy.

“please let me suck you, please.” you whimpered against his mouth. namjoon felt his dick harden even more, he felt as if he was going to rip through his slacks. namjoon chuckled at you, making your center gush even more.

“sure baby, but not for too long, i still want time to sink into your pretty pussy.” he said, placing one last kiss to your lips. you smiled at him, as he pulled away from you to sit at the edge of your bed. with wobbly legs, you slid on the plush carpet in front of him. namjoons massive thighs were spread, as he looked down at you.

“such a good girl for me, want me cock that bad huh?” he said, leaning down. his hands pulled at the fabric of your dress, indicating he wanted it off. raising your hands above your head, namjoon pulled the dress off, tossing it somewhere in your room. you felt your hair tickle your collarbones, as you self consciously put your hands across your chest.

“ah ah ah, let me see your pretty tits, or you can’t have.” he said eyeing his erection. you slowly removed your hands from yourself, placing them in your lap. namjoon smiled at you, sincerely. “you’re so beautiful baby, all mine.” he said, pulling you up to straddle him. your small body was perched on his large lap as you hovered above him. you smiled as he pressed a gentle kiss on your collarbone.

“hey your distracting me mister, also why am i the only one naked?” you said with a pout. namjoons low voice chuckled at you.

“my bad, little one. on your knees for me okay?” he said, lifting you easily by the waist and setting you on the floor once again. nodding you sat back on your knees and watched as he ran his fingers through his long grey hair.

slowly, namjoons long fingers unbuttoned his shirt one by one, revealing his tan pectorals. you felt your slick against your thighs as he pulled the shirt from being tucked into his slacks. you gaped at him, as his toned, large body is revealed. slight indents of abs showing through, shows he has been working hard at the gym. namjoon grins at your expression as he adjusts his chain around his neck.

“you are so out of my league.” you murmur. namjoon chuckles, large hands going for his belt.

“no baby, quite the opposite,” he says removing his belt and holding it in his hands. his slacks ride low on his hips, revealing the deep indents by his hips and the band of his calvin klein boxers. tossing his belt across the room, he then unbuttons his slacks and lets them fall. you practically drool as his large muscular thighs come into your view. your eyes wander to the very large tent in his boxers. eyes widening a bit, you feel your mouth water.

“its been awhile hasn’t it?” he says, kicking his pants to the side, and sitting on the bed. he leans back on his hands, muscles contracting as he looks down at you. gulping you nod at him, hands still in your lap.

licking your lips you say, “two weeks. you’ve been busy with your schedule.” you say with a shrug. namjoon frowns a little. he leans forward bringing a hand to stoke your cheek.

“im sorry love. i’ll make it up to you, i promise.” he says gently. you lean into his touch and smile at him.

“i know nams, im not mad.” you say seriously. namjoon sags in relief, pulling away from you, his dark eyes pool with lust. his hand goes to his large erection, gently palming it.

“come here, little one.” namjoon says, a deep rasp in his voice. you shuffle forward on your knees to fully seat yourself in front of him. his body heat makes you feel warm, perspiration begins to make its way to your neck. licking your lips, you look up at your boyfriend who towers over you even while sitting down. with shaky hands, you palm him through his boxers. namjoon groans as he leans back on his elbows. bicep muscles bulging as his breath becomes labored.

not wasting a second, you gently pull down his boxers. you feel yourself salivate as his fat cock flops out and against namjoons happy trail. sighing in relief, namjoon looks down at you, grinning smugly. hands rested against his thighs, you look at his memeber.

probably about the size of your forearm, his cock twitches as it lays a few inches above namjoons bellybutton. his tip is shiny with precum, and three thick, long veins line along the sides. his balls are heavy and full. not only is he impressive in size, but his girth. taking finger, you skim it up the sides as you rub the precum of his tip along the head.

“oh fuck, __ please.” namjoon begs lowly as he lays back fully. contemplating, you watch as your boyfriends chest rises and falls slowly. feeling your body grow hot you ask him.

“can i sit on it?” you ask in a small voice. namjoons breath falters and he quickly sits up. looking down at you, he quirks an eyebrow.

“why?” he asks, confused. you become shy, drawing shapes into his thighs you cough.

“it feels good, and i know you like it when i sit on you. plus it will prep me for when you actually fuck me.” you say looking at him under your lashes. namjoon mouth is slightly agape as he looks at you.

“christ, who knew you were such a whore for my cock baby?” namjoon says, pulling you up by your waist. the slick against your inner thighs is causing you to squirm. you wanted him in you, bad. namjoon shuffles back on the bed, pulling you with him, he lays back against some of your pillows, thighs spread out. he’s massive. sweat sheens against his strong chest, as he breaths heavily. gold chain resting haphazardly against his collarbones, as he rests his hands behind head. his cock lays on his thigh, a bit soft now but still thick and pulsating. you crawl between his thighs, nervous as you grab his member and gently tug. namjoons breath falters as he clenches his thighs, shutting his eyes he lets out a deep breath.

“let me take care of you, baby.” you say, straddling him. namjoons eyes, still closed he nods as he crossed his forearms over his eyes. you lower yourself onto his member, not putting it in yet as you grind against him. you both moan at the contact, as you put your hands on his chest, moving your slick cunt back and forth on his thick cock.

“oh f-fuck, that feels so good.” namjoon moans, opening his eyes to look at you. you stare at him, breathing slowly as your pussy grinds against him. his tip nudges your clit once in awhile making you twitch.

“your c-cock feels so good,” you whine, moving your hips faster. “i can’t wait for you to be in me, stuffing me full of you.” you say, as you brace yourself on his chest. namjoons breathing becomes extremely labored as he feels his cock pulsate under your wet pussy. he begins to grow harder.

“let me fill you up baby, shh its okay.” namjoon says, putting his hands on your hips, moving you at a slower pace. you whine more, as his tip prods at your nub. you look at namjoon as he sits up slightly, hands still holding your hips. “tell me if it hurts, okay?” namjoon says, rubbing gentle circles into your flesh. you nod, leaning forward to place a kiss on his mouth. reciprocating back, he kisses you sweetly, as he takes one hand to grab his member. you sigh against his mouth, as you sit up higher. he nudges his tip against your wet center, slapping it lightly a few times. “you’re so wet for me, kitten.” namjoon groans, teasing his swollen tip against your tight hole.

“only for you-!” not even being able to get the full sentence out, namjoon pulls you slowly onto his engorged head. digging your nails into his shoulders at the pressure, you let out a low moan as you feel yourself pop over his head. “oh fucking hell, namjoon.” you whine into his neck as you swivel your hips against his head, “it feels so good daddy.” you say, and immediately freeze. namjoons grip tightens on your waist and his breathing becomes labored. silence envelopes the room, only your breathing could be heard. before you could say something you feel namjoon thrust his length entirely into you, well most of it. throwing your head back at the intense pressure, you clench tightly around him. “ngggg-n-nam,” you can’t even get a full sentence out as namjoon grips your hips, to situate you fully on his fat cock. “s-so full.” you stutter, as you feel him in your bellybutton.

“fucking hell, __ you know what calling that does to me.” namjoon growls, slapping your bottom harshly then gripping the pinked flesh. moaning, you wiggle against him, feeling every ridge and veins skim your walls. “you’re so small on my lap, my cock barely fits in you. i can see the bulge in your stomach, little one.” namjoon whispers in your ear. you are still nestled around him, arms wrapped around his back, as his arms rest by your hips. “you like having daddy’s fat cock in your hole hmm? c-cant even fit all the way in.” he says, thrusting his hips up into you gently.

you feel fuzzy, as your clit brushes his dark patch of hair at the base of his cock. “i-i feel so full, so good namjoon. you’re so big, stuffing me full of your cock.” you say, rubbing your hard nipples against his chest. namjoon curses, gripping your ass tightly before spanking the supple flesh. gently he pulls you away from him so he can lay back on the pillows, his biceps bulge as he once again rests his hands behind his head.

“mmm, such a good girl. grind on my cock, get yourself off kitten. then i will fuck you and fill you with my cum over and over.” he says, slapping your ass harshly. you groan as the sting mixes with the pleasure of him deep inside you. he smirks at you, taking his chain in between his lips. you watch him, as his large body stretching back to watch you, hooded eyes lustfully flitting across your face. aware that your pussy is dripping around his large member you nod at him.

resting your hands on his stomach, you move for the first time. not confident enough to actually ride him, you grind back and forth— keeping him inside your heat. “oh-h that feels so good-!” you moan, as his tip brushes your gspot. moving slowly, you grind your clit against his pubes. you felt so full, so unbelievably full. namjoon watches you, using his cock to get yourself off. he felt his breathing get heavy. sitting up a bit he brings his hands to play with your nipples, tweaking one with each hand. he watches your eyes roll in the back of your head, as you instinctively roll your hips. namjoon feels his dick twitch as you slowly roll your hips against him, clenching like a vice.

“fucking, h-hell.” he groans, pinching your nipples harder. not being able to take it anymore, he sits up again causing you to moan at the sudden deepness. pushing up on his knees, he folds you in half. eyes widened, you scramble to hold the bedsheets. “im going to breed your pretty pussy, and make you cum. then i will take you from behind.” namjoon hisses. you look at him between your legs, feeling the burning sensation of your thighs.

“please, breed me daddy.” you whine, clenching around him. namjoon swears, before pulling completely out of you, making you hiss at the sudden emptiness before he slams his fat cock back into your tight hole.

“NGGH-NAMJOON!” you scream, as his relentlessly thrusts in and out of you. balls slapping against your ass harshly, as your boyfriend fucks you. he breaths heavily, his chain slapping against his chest. you feel like you’re gonna be split in half, and you love it. the bed squeaks beneath you as he thrusts your tight hole.

“yeah that's it, fuck, take it. like the good girl you are, you like daddy's fat cock huh? it barely fits still, your small cunt cant take it. your so tiny beneath me. i love it. seeing my cock move in your stomach, fuck. i love you.” namjoon says, thrusting quicker. sweat sheens his forehead, making his grey hair stick to it.

“hah! ah-i love you!” you cry. you feel warm breath fan your nipple as he envelopes the peak and sucks gently. he takes the other one between his finger tips and rolls the swollen nub gently. “n-namjoon, you’re so big, i feel s-so-,” you hiccup, not even able to get a sentence out. namjoon sucks on your breasts like his life depends on it. pulling away from your boob, he pulls away but continues to rub the swollen peaks with his thumbs.

“yeah, you like that? your nipples are so sensitive. fuck, i know you like when i play with them.” he groans, feeling you clench continuously around him. you feel a familiar wetness begin, whining you try and push his hands away.

“namjoon, p-please your gonna make me squirt-!” you whine, as his rubs his thumbs quicker. namjoon smirks down at you, drool trickles from the corner of your mouth.

“oh fuck! look at that, your creaming my cock baby.” namjoon teases. watching as a white substance coats his cock as he pulls in and out of you.

“hah! fuck y-mmm!” your insult is swallowed up by his lips as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, smacking his lips against yours harshly. he pulls away, a string of saliva keeps you connected.

“are you close little one?” namjoon asks, looking down at you.

“yes, but please make keep going. keep going, please, please daddy.” you beg, gripping the bed sheets tightly to the point you think they may rip. namjoon swears under his breath as he pulls your thighs down to rest on his hips.

“lay on your stomach for me baby.” namjoon rasps. breathing heavily, you nod sitting up. you feel namjoons dick begin to slip out of you as you turn around to lay on your stomach, but that feeling of emptiness is brief as you feel namjoons slide his wet dick snugly back into you. you feel your toes curl as his hands press themselves onto your hips. one of his thighs rests on either side of you, while one foot is planted on the floor. namjoon pushes down on your hips as he thrusts harshly into you, his low groans fill the room. your face is buried into your comforter as you feel his heavy sack slap against your wet center.

“nggggh,” your moans are muffled by the bed, as namjoon continues to thrust harder and harder.

“ugh,” he groans. the sound of skin slapping echoes through the room. as namjoon thrusts harshly into you. namjoons arms give out and he lays himself on top of you, being careful not to crush you with his large frame. you feel one of his hands snake up around the front of your neck, holding your head up and the other to roughly grab your breasts. you see yourself in the mirror that is situated by the door next to your closet. even though the lighting is low, you can make out the flush of your cheeks and how small you look under namjoon. “look how sexy you look as i fuck your tight hole.” namjoon moans into your ear, gently nipping at the shell. “i wish you could see my cock getting sucked in by your greedy pussy, so pretty.” he murmurs, tweaking your nipples. you can’t even let out a coherent response as he brings his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. you gag slightly as he scissors his fingers along your molars. you feel like you are about to explode from all the sensations he is doing to your body, but the fullness of his cock is the one you feel the most. slowing his thrusts, namjoon pulls out causing you to let out a painful whine.

“namjoon, what the fuck!” you cry, as you turn your head to look at him. your boyfriends chest heaves, as he looks at you. only lust can be seen in his dark eyes. his cock looks heavy, and shiny with your juices. you feel your hole clench in want, needing to be filled up. slapping the bed, you whine looking at him. frustrated tears blur your vision, “why did you pull out?! i was so clo-,” before you can finish your complaint, namjoon stands at the end of the bed, grabbing you roughly by the waist he lifts you effortlessly. yelping, you wrap your hands around his shoulders to steady yourself as he walks towards your windows, which leads to the balcony overlooking seoul. he stands you up so that you are facing the windows, your legs feel wobbly as your toes sink into the carpet. you faintly see his reflection looking back at you, you let out a deep breath.

“place your hands on the window, kitten.” namjoon says in a low voice. you inhale sharply before placing your hands on the window, the glass becomes foggy due to you standing so close, and the cool glass makes your nipples perk. namjoon positions himself behind you grabbing your hips. before you can question what he’s doing, namjoon lifts your legs to wrap around his waist. you yelp, as your cheek presses against the glass.

“namjoon what are you d-!nng!” before you could protest namjoons tip enters into you, feeling yourself pop over his swollen head he pushes himself fully into your heat.

“ffffuck, yeah,” namjoon lets out a long groan as he watches his cock sink into you. “fuck, your cunt is so tight, even the third time i still feel like i cant fit. but your cunt can take it hmm? you want my fat cock in you all the time, don’t you baby? maybe next time i will fill both holes at the same time.” he says his finger ghosting over your untouched hole, you feel yourself clench. “oh? you like that, how naughty. maybe i’ll stuff your cunt with one of your toys and my cock too, would you like that?” namjoon says as he slaps your ass roughly. all you can do is whine, as the only thing holding you up is your boyfriend, as he pulls you back and forth on his dick. you feel your feet dangle next to his waist, you aren’t surprised your boyfriend could hold you up but from how sweaty you were getting you felt yourself losing grip on the window.

“namjoon-ah! im slipping, i can’t stay up,” you groan as he lands another slap on your ass. before you could chastise your boyfriend for putting your body in this position, he grabs you by your breasts, holding you to the front of his chest. you feel your back against his warm, sweaty chest as you look down where your connected.

“hmm, see that? i can see my bulge inside you, how cute.” he says, placing searing kisses along your neck. you tilt your head back on his shoulder as he tweaks your swollen nubs. namjoon grinds himself against you, relishing in the way your hole clenches around him. you breathing has turned short, as he pulls and twists your nipples. looking down you can see a bump right below your bellybutton. namjoon hums, “im going to sit on your bed, and you are going to ride me, okay little one? i like watching you squirm on my cock as its nice and deep in you. if you are a good girl, i will cum in you and you can sit on my dick and keep it nice and warm,” namjoon says, still fondling you.

“nng, yes namjoon, p-please let me cum.” you whine, bringing your hand to your clit, rubbing yourself as his cock pulses inside you. you hear namjoon swear lowly, as he walks back to the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

“turn around.” he says. pulling yourself out of him one last time, you turn to face him. muscular thighs spread as he looks at you. a smile comes over his face. “i love you, __. your pleasure is my priority. get yourself off on me once again, little one.” he says, with love in his eyes as he cups your face. a smile stretches' across your lips as you straddle him. “i love you nams.” you say softly, bringing him in for a kiss. lips still connected, you take his large member into your hand, guiding it to your pussy. teasing yourself a bit, you rub his head against your swollen folds. whimpering into namjoons mouth, he grips your waist and thrusts up into your heat once more. throwing your head back, your hands find his shoulders as you begin to slide up and down on his fat cock.

“so, s-so full,” you moan, as his tip brushes your cervix. namjoon pulls his plump lip between his teeth as he watches you ride him.

“you’re so pretty.” he says simply, as he takes on of your breasts into his mouth, “so beautiful, creaming yourself all over my cock.” he says, swirling his tongue on your erect nipple. the sensations from his tongue has you reeling as you bounce faster on his dick.

“close, so close, please!” you cry, you don’t even know what you are begging for. namjoon lays all the way back on the bed, taking his thumbs and rubbing them in circular motions on your nubs.

“cmon baby,” he moans, throwing his head back. “mm close too, come on.” namjoon says, feeling his cock pulsate inside you. you focus on the sensations from your nipples, as you lean back and place your hands on namjoons thighs, grinding on his dick as you feel him hit that one spot over and over. with one thumb on your nipple, namjoon brings his other hand down to your clit, rubbing in slow, circular motions.

you see spots of white and black as you feel your orgasm approaching, your moans become louder and louder as you milk namjoons cock.

“oh! oh! oh fuck im-!” you scream as you feel yourself come undone, juices spraying on the tuft of hair at his base, and along his stomach. namjoon swears loudly, as he feels you clench heavily around him. you feel yourself still coming undone as namjoon grabs your hips and thrusts himself in and out of you at an inhumane pace. you feel your breasts bouncing, the only thing you hear is skin slapping aggressively and namjoons low moans. through bleary eyes you watch as namjoon throws his head back as he continues to fuck his cock into you.

“n-namjoon please im sensitive!” you whine, as you lean back on his thighs, still feeling yourself come undone.

“fuck! __!” namjoon feels himself clench as he grabs your ass harshly, squeezing the flesh as he empties himself into you. you whine lowly as you feel your self become full of his seed. thrusting lazily into you, namjoon continues to empty his seed into your heat. you feel yourself cum once more, your juices mixing with his release. you let out a groan as you fall onto namjoons chest, both your bodies slick with perspiration and cum. namjoon pulls out slowly, but not before thrusting in and out a few times, milking your pussy.

“nam, please. i can’t feel my pussy.” you whine, slapping his muscular chest. namjoon chuckles, as he pushes his cock fully into you. you flinch at the sensitivity, but find yourself getting wet once more. you both lay there, as he lazily thrusts in and out of your cunt. you hum, feeling filled to the brim. with wobbly arms you sit up, making his cock sink fully into you once more. a chill comes over you, as you whine from the fullness.

“i thought you couldn’t feel your pussy, hm?” namjoon teases as he rests his arms behind his head. you roll your eyes as you lift yourself off him, whining at the rawness of your folds. you watch his fat cock flop onto his stomach. his seed pours out of you, slowly trickling down your thigh. “no keep it in,” he whines “you’re so warm.” he says, grabbing his cock and nudging your hole. snickering at your boyfriends neediness, you grab his somewhat erect member and bring it to your folds.

“mmmm,” you moan, as you sink slowly down onto it. “why do you have to be so big?” you whine, as you fully settle onto him, namjoon thrusts up into you. yelping slightly you send him a glare. “i agreed to sit on it, give me some time to recover, asshole. i think you broke my pussy.” you pouted, leaning forward to lay on his chest.

namjoon snorts, “impossible, your cunt was made for me.” he says, giving your ass a firm slap. whining, you clench around him causing him to groan. “please stop clenching or im going to tie you to the bed and fuck the shit out of you.” he says in all seriousness. you fingers fiddle with his chain, as he rubs his fingers along your spine.

“hmm, give me an hour then you can,” you say cheekily, earning another slap on your ass. namjoon sits up, sheathing himself further into you. his grey hair is wet against his neck and forehead, he raises an eyebrow.

“give me and hour then i will.” namjoon says, standing up with his dick still inside you. he walks to the other side of the bed, laying down with you on top of him. you wiggle to get yourself comfortable. namjoon watches as you squirm on top of him. “relax baby, i just want you to lay with me.” namjoon says gently, rubbing circles into your skin. looking down at him you smile before leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.

“i love you.” you say sincerely, pressing another kiss to his lips. namjoon smiled against you, running his fingers up your bare back.

“hmmm, i didn’t hurt you did i?” he asks, eyes flitting across your body. you giggle at your boyfriends concern.

“does it look like you did, you nerd,” you tease, fingering the metal of his chain. rolling his eyes, he firmly slaps your bottom, making you squeak from the impact.

“be nice.” he scolds, pulling you close to his chest. you grin as you lay your head on his strong chest. silence envelopes the room, as you feel your eyes begin to flutter shut. namjoon rubs gentle circles into your back, lulling you to sleep.

“i love you too baby.”

- - - - - - - - -

SO THIS WAS PRIVATE FOR AWHILE BUT HERE U GO LMAO FOR NAMJOONS BDAY YAYYY <3

well, there u go lol. i am so shit at writing endings ;-; so i am sorry, but i start uni this week so i am not entirely off of my hiatus but i will try and be more active, i really wanna edit my theme and fix my masterlist so i will try and get that done this week slowly. updating links is so annoying. also kinda wanna change my user. but idk, so yeah! hope yall liked it, deadass had to read hella smut and look at twitter for ideas , im not gonna link anything cus ... im ashamed haha. namjoon got me outta my slump so thank him hehe, have a good day! <3

[mctherofdragons]

Born to Die | F.W.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: ANGST/SMUT 18+ only, major character death, toxic relationship dynamic, tattoos, gang activity, motorcycles, domination/submission, daddy kink, possessiveness, praise kink, choking, smoking, drug mention, alludes to criminal activity, blood/wounds/violence, hurt/comfort, police, arrest, gun violence, su*cide by cop. 

Based on: Sons of Anarchy; Lana Del Rey’s Ride and Born to Die music videos 

AN: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! I’m not going to argue about this being ~toxic because I know it is. It’s heavily influenced by Jax and Tara’s dynamic in Sons of Anarchy. It’s also a work of complete fiction and honestly, who doesn’t love a bad boy? I know I do. Thank you to Mya (@wandsandwheezes) and Lanie (@gcdric) for encouraging me to write this! Note about biker subculture: “old lady” is a term of endearment for a wife/girlfriend. If a biker refers to a girl as his “old lady”, this is actually a warning sign to other men to back off. Reader would want Fred to refer to her as such. ​

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

”He’s not good for you,” your mother’s voice echoed as you tossed everything you owned in a duffle bag. “He’s a criminal, y/n.” 

”I don’t care. I love him.” 

With that, you had left everything behind to be with Fred Weasley. He was a boy from the wrong side of town who you had met while tending bar to make ends meet. You had always been a good girl. Sure, your family had no money, but you were a hard worker. In fact, you had began studying to become a nurse - paid for with grants and academic scholarships. All of your dreams faded away when Fred walked into your life. 

Everything about Fred Weasley was stunning. He stood over six feet, broad shoulders clad in leather and tattoos, with a dangerous light behind his eyes. He had scars tattering his soft, pale skin. On his face, freckles danced beneath his eyes light a night sky, and you were enamored with discovering the constellations. He was tough, but soft with you. He wore his long hair gelled back,  adding to his bad boy persona. Fred was the most beautiful man you had ever seen - both inside and out. 

 He had come in one night close to closing, sitting down and whistling at you.  His brown eyes twinkled at you as he ordered a straight whiskey, flirting with you as he drank. “You’re far too pretty to be workin’ here all alone. Girls like you can fall prey easily.”

You had heard about men like him. They would roll up together occasionally, the backs of their leather jackets or vests donning the same symbolic patch. Outlaw motorcycle clubs with all of their criminal enterprising, violence, and danger had been something you would normally have avoided at all costs. However, Fred nearly radiated heat as he sat before you, pushing a tattoo and ring covered hand through his hair. He puffed on his second cigarette of the night, gazing at you in a way that made you want to abandon your good girl ambitions.

“You wanna go for a ride, sweet thing?”

After your shift had ended, you climbed on the back of Fred’s Harley, holding on tight to his waist as he sped down the road. That night he could have taken you anywhere. Even Hell would have been a welcome destination when Fred finally parked outside of a garage, pulling you inside. You were leaned against a different motorcycle with his hands exploring every inch of you. His hand slowly slipped around your throat, the cold of his rings pressing gently into your supple skin. At that moment, you had fallen entranced under Fred Weasley’s spell, unable to ever think about the life you knew before. 

Fred Weasley had bewitched you. Even with the danger that lurked behind every moment with you, the addiction to him had pulled you beneath the waves. It was a dark, deep ocean but you were content to continue being pulled deeper and deeper into the depth. You were his girl. That’s all you ever wanted to be - for eternity. 

+++++++++++++++++

Eventually, you had moved into Fred’s house. It was, like everything else about the man’s persona, not the safest place to be. At night, you’d hear gunshots rattling down the street. More than once, you laid awake, watching Fred in the moonlight, holding his own gun in his hand. You knew better than to ask questions about how the gang made its money. Fred often managed to shut you up with diamonds or kisses, pushing any questions you had to the back of your mind. 

One night, you had been laying on Fred’s chest. You were tracing the lion tattoo on the right side of his chest, your fingers dancing over the cat’s dark mane. “I’m scared for you, Freddie.” 

You gasped slightly as he pulled your hair behind your shoulder, pressing the pad of his pointer finger behind your ear. There you had gotten a small, but meaningful tattoo. The letter ‘F’ was sunk into your skin, marking you permanently as his. Fred was possessive over you. He kept you safe from the other members with a proprietary aura. Fred moved to attach a soft kiss to the tattoo, his warm breath tickling against your earlobe. 

“You know I’ll keep you safe, right, babygirl?” 

“Of course.” 

He slid his hand down your body, strong and calloused hands brushing against the skin of your side. He trailed a finger along the lace of your panties, slowly and painfully running the tip of his pointer finger along your slit. He moved the black material to the side, coasting two of his long fingers into you. He rubbed soft circles on your hood, causing you to gasp slightly. 

“Do you belong to me? Who do you belong to? If someone asks, who do you belong to?” 

He would occasionally beg for confirmation from you. “Fred Weasley,” you breathed, back arching as he attached his open mouth to your neck, sucking a mark into your skin. “Fred Weasley.” 

He fingered you fast, loving the way your wetness coated his fingers. He pulled them out, shoving them into your mouth with a small grin. You gazed into his eyes as you licked them clean, batting your long, mascara coated eyelashes at him. 

“That’s my bitch.” 

You melted at his words, spreading your legs wider and allowing him to climb on top of you. You dug your fingernails into his back as he moved rhythmically inside of you, making tiny scratches along with the tattoos on his shoulders. His rings pressed hard into your skin as he propped your legs up, keeping his eyes burning into yours. 

+++++++++++++++++

You were waiting up one night for Fred, sitting in nothing but his leather vest, donned with the club’s patch on the back. The patch itself had to be earned, and membership in the club was lifelong. The only way out of the club itself was death, and Fred knew that very well. He had another patch on the front breast of his vest - Man of Mayhem - meaning he had undertaken several high-risk tasks for the crew. 

He didn’t tell you much about these tasks, and you didn’t ask questions as you would stand at the sink, scrubbing blood from his shirts. He was gone late again tonight and you had missed him, pulling the vest on since he had worn his jacket instead. You heard the door ratted open. Fred stood before you, cigarette hanging from his ruddy, pink lips. He took a long drag, blowing the smoke up into the air. 

“You like?” You asked, standing up. Your lips curled into a mischievous grin and you ran off toward the bedroom, but he caught you by your arm. He had you pinned against the wall. He smelled like alcohol, cigarettes, and motorcycle exhaust. It was then that you noticed Fred’s lip was busted open, a bit of blood dried over the cut on the top. It was swollen and bruised. His cheek, on the other hand, also had a large blue and yellow bruise forming beneath his eye socket. 

“Take it off.” 

You plucked the smoke from his mouth, pulling it between your own lips for a drag. “Why?” 

He grabbed the cigarette back and stomped it out under his boot. He latched his hands onto the leather of the vest and pulled it off of you, tossing it onto a nearby table. “No one fucking wears that patch besides members. Do you fucking understand that?” 

You had recoiled a bit, leaning away from him. He caught your face gently in his hands, planting a soft kiss on your lips. You sighed, suddenly melting back into his touch. Fred was holding your face tightly as he kissed you. You could feel the rugged cut on his lip against your own. You wished somewhere deep down the kiss itself was magic - able to heal him. His tongue danced along your lower lip before you granted him entry. You had almost forgotten you were completely naked while he was clothed, once again causing you to find your rightful place as his plaything. 

“I’m trying to protect you.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

He stood back for a second, taking in the sight of you naked before him. You giggled loudly as he hoisted you up, tossing you over his shoulder. He brought a hand up to smack your bare ass, a loud crack breaking the silence of the house. When he finally got to the bedroom, he tossed you onto the mattress and you bounced. 

You propped your head upon your hand as he stripped, muscles flexing as he pulled his tee-shirt off. He laid down on the bed and you ran your hands along his bare chest. You were kissing fast and furiously, tongues battling for dominance. He had slid his hand between your legs, rubbing his fingers gently against your sensitive flower. He spat into his hand, bringing it back down to moisten you even more. Fred had an artistic way of touching you as if each point of pressure on your body was something he craved to explore. You were panting loudly, tiny feminine gasps rolling off your tongue. 

“You wanna ride me, princess?” You nodded, moving to place your knees on either side of his hips. Placing your hand around Fred’s shaft, you guided his length into you. You lowered yourself slowly onto him and tossed your head toward the ceiling, feeling your hair fall against the bare skin of your back. The way he filled you up was sinful yet otherworldly. Gently, you gyrated your hips in circles, getting comfortable. Fred placed his hands on your hips, urging you to begin bouncing. It was moments like this that had made Fred claim you as his ‘old lady’ - biker slang for a girl that belonged to him and only him. It was a predatorial move, urging the other men in the MC to back off, lest they deal with his wrath. It made you feel chosen, valued, and deeply cherished. 

Fred locked his eyes onto yours as you ran your hands up and down his chest. He caught your lips for a kiss, pushing his hands up into the tangles of your hair. As you panted, he spoke softly into your shoulder. “I need...I need your help with something. Are you gonna b-be my good girl?”

You continued to bounce on him, staring deeply into his eyes. “Anything for you, daddy.” 

He helped you off of him, moving swiftly to pin you beneath him. He slammed into you again, pinning your hands above your head. You moaned, letting him attach his lips around your nipple. He bit softly before sucking. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders, moving quicker and quicker. 

“Would you do anything for me, baby? Would you?” “Yes! Yes, daddy,” you moaned. Fred could feel your walls tightening around him, which signaled him to wrap his hand around your throat. The feeling of his rings on your skin and the loss of control sent you into your ecstasy, crying his name out loudly. He came next, pulling out to cum on your stomach. You watched, stars in your eyes, as he reached next to the bed to grab his tee shirt and wipe you up. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You held the gun in your hand still, shaking as you watched the person in front of you fall to the floor. “C’mon,” Fred said, wrapping his hand around your wrist. You ran along with him, shaking from your fingers to toes. 

“Is-Is...did I kill her?” 

Fred handed you a small, white pill and you took it without question. “It’ll calm you down. C’mon,” he said, starting up his bike. You crawled onto the back, wrapping your arms around his waist. Fred’s shirt was still soaked in blood. You had been his ruse to get into the house, and then he had urged you to shoot. 

He had shot too, leaving the living room full of the corpses of a rival club. As Fred sped, coasting nearly one hundred miles per hour, you saw flashes of red and blue light up in the rearview. Fred was content to rev his engine, but another cop car pulled out in front, causing his wheels to come to a screeching stop. 

Four sets of officers stood behind their doors, crouching, guns drawn. “Get off,” Fred whispered and you listened, hands up in surrender. A male cop immediately grabbed you, locking the handcuffs around your wrist. You were bent over the hood of the cop car, waiting for Fred to make his move. 

“Weasley, put your hands up and drop your weapon.” 

Fred slowly got off of his bike, hands up. He looked you dead in the eyes, saying words you had never heard him speak out loud before. “Remember, I’ve always loved you, baby. I’m not letting them take me.” 

With that, he moved his hand down to his waistband, going for his gun. Before he could get it, a shower of bullets rang out from all angles, bursting through the leather of his jacket and into his torso and head. You screamed, fighting against your cuffs as two male officers held you back. Fred Weasley had gone out the same way he had always wanted - in a blaze of glory. 

“Freddie!” You screamed echoed in the quiet desert night, staring at the blood pooling into the California sand. “Freddie!” 

Fred’s eyes were still open, blood leaking from his mouth. The light behind them was gone, his pupils only illuminated by swirls of red and blue from the sirens. You continued to scream as you were pushed, head down, into the back of a police car. 

The police officer began to read your rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” 

“Fuck you,” you cussed, as one final send off to the man you loved.