#ah another late night post
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catinflight · 4 months ago
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Drew silly friends as their silly pokemon they got taking those pokemon personality quizzes‼️‼️‼️🗣🗣🗣🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅
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Terri - @terriblyterri (SOOOO SLIPPERY SUZAN😨😨😱😱😱)
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Jellian HUMAN SONA⁉️ - @jelliannn (SoOOOOO STINKY🤯🤯🤯)
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The Ratking‼️‼️‼️ -ITSRAT!!!! (Little scrunched on discord,,,,, can't @ them because they don't have tumblr unfortunately😔😔😔😔 RIP...)
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visdollie · 13 days ago
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☆ having fun without me?
sum: vi isnt happy when she sees you posing on your insta story with another girl at a party
cw: wlw, angry sex, overstim, fem!reader, dom!vi, clit rubbing (r!receiving), dirty talk, slapping, name calling (slut), not proofread
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fucked.
fucked is what you were when you realized the time. after countless hours of heartfelt conversations and a plethora of shots, you had gotten so distracted at the party that you forgot to get home to vi on time.
10:00 pm was the time vi told you before your friend picked you up. it was fucking 2:31 am. you already knew how impatient she could be.
"aw, leaving so soon?" a girl you met at said party whined at you with a tilt to her head as she watched you rush to gather your belongings and text your friend a quick "meet me outside" in an obvious hurry. the same girl you decided to snap a cute 'harmless' selfie with and post to your story.
you dashed out the door, leaving her a quick "so sorry we'll meet again soon!" before rushing to the parking lot, searching for your friends car with a look of fear on your face.
"im fucked, im so fucked!" you yapped her ears off, just watching her roll her eyes and drive you home.
---
shivers went down your spine as you steadily unlocked and opened your shared front door, avoiding making any noise in hopes that vi was just asleep, and would just penalize you in the morning.
you were practically on your tippy toes, but the creaky door did you no justice as it slipped out your grip and slammed closed.
"fuck." you whispered.
it was terrifyingly dark in your home. not a single peep or sound besides the loud ass air conditioner. you thought you were fine for the night, but no.. not until your girlfriend snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you back roughly as a yelp slipped from your lips.
"ah! vi.. you scared me." you giggled anxiously. vi could sense that you both knew the obvious issue which placed tension between the situation as she planted kisses across your collarbone.
"missed me?" she muttered on your warm, sticky skin in a malicious tone. you nodded your head, too nervous to say anything that could possibly anger her more.
she crept closer to your ear. "was having fun without me, yeah? takin pics with random girls, lettin them grab all on your ass? bet you had a great fucking time.. slut." she bit down on your neck, not hard enough to leave a scar, but harsh enough to taste the metallic flavor of your blood. you whimpered, loud.
"m sorry.. was jus having fun, n i didnt realize the tim-"
you yelped as she grabbed your wrist and dragged you down the so familiar hallway to your bedroom, muttering a rough "shut it. you saw this coming, baby."
the grip she had on your wrists tightened, her nails digging into your soft skin that made it obvious to you she was getting angrier by the second. was she angry because you got home late? or because of your oh so touchy friend? you assumed it was both.
all thoughts were snapped out of your head as she threw you on the silky, crepe pink sheets and immediately started attacking your neck with bites and bruises.
"mmh.." you whined pathetically, letting her take your brain over and dumb it down. her hand slid down your body, putting it up your skirt to rub at your clit at a rugged pace to make you more wet, as if you already werent.
your poor body struggled in determination to move away from her touch but her grip on your hips with her free hand kept you still. she lifted up from your collarbone, admiring the mess she made. "keep still, slut. shouldve been home on time, but was too busy out fuckin girls, yeah?" her pace on your clit grew faster.
"f-ffuhck.. was.. wasnt fuckin no one, vi! was jus havin fun.. d.. dont even know the girls name.. m sorry.." you babbled on and on hoping for some relief on your poor clit as she went faster each word you spoke. she had no plans of showing mercy, no way. she was way too pissed for that.
"yeah, right. she shouldnt have been touchin you like that, baby." a loud, harsh slap met your thigh, pulling a choked out moan from the back of your throat. "p-please!"
she felt you growing wetter through your panties, deciding to pause her steady motions to rip them off. she grinned at how wet you were. your pussy was glistening, practically reflecting off the ceiling light. you stuffed your face in your pillow in embarassment.
"so fuckin wet, its like you were waiting on this. prolly were, slut." she belittled you, listening to your whines of disagreement. her fingers rubbed up and down your cunt, lubricating them so she'd be able to fuck you senseless. sloppy noises of you pussy making her drip through her own underwear.
you keened at the feeling. "p-please.. fill me up vi! hurry.." vi let out a grunt of annoyance at your impatience. a rough SLAP at your pussy. yeah, that'll shut you up.
tears welled up in your eyes as you pressed your lips closed, a long whimper leaving them. "always so fucking noisy." your girlfriend quietly muttered before shoving two of her fingers deep in your cunt. "just wanna be stuffed full with my fingers, dont you baby?"
throwing your head back at the feeling, you nodded hastily. brain going dumb as she worked her digits in and out of you, thumb going at your clit. "tell me baby, did you do anything with that girl, hmm? why were you with her?" she spoke to you softly, as if she wasnt pissed a few seconds ago.
"w..was just a friend vi, promise! she.. haah.. means nothin to mme.. pleasepleaseplease.."
she snickered at your babbling, fucking you quicker as a reward of your honesty. you knew vi wasnt really worried about you leaving her. you adored her and she adored you on an unfathomable level, she just worried about your safety. (and had a big fear of other bitches growing crushes on you.)
"gon.. gonna cum.." you whined, legs trembling from how sore they were growing. vi felt you clenching around her rough fingers, thumb rubbing at your clit to loosen you up.
"cmon, baby. cum for me. let go all over my fingers.." her words made you sob out even more. you clawed at the sheets, cumming all over them with a long, drawn out wail.
she kept fucking her fingers into you, adding a third one. you started kicking your legs in overstimulation, whining for her to let up but she was relentless.
"tell me, baby. tell me who you belong to."
you doubted you could even speak properly due to the aggressive fingerfucking, but you made an attempt, tears dripping onto the sheets at this point. pathetic.
yet you tried anyway. "y..you vi.. belong to.. you.."
she faught back a laugh, removing her fingers from your cunt and planting a kiss to your forehead. you laid back onto the bed, immediately squeezing your thighs closed.
"you did so well, cupcake. but you arent going out for a while."
you frowned, rolling your eyes at her. secretly though, you didnt mind. if it means being able to spend more time with your girlfriend, you dont mind.
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@ visdollie 2024
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nachrosas · 15 days ago
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A CUP OF JEALOUSY, PLEASE | s.reid x reader
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summary: in which a rookie agent tries to hard to get your attention, much of spencer dismay. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff! word count: 558 a/n: night, night! this is not my best work (still have doubts about posting it, but i kinda like it!) and it's the first time i write something about jealousy! a little late than usual, but that's it! also, my inbox is always open to chat (i love to talk and meet new people)! till the next one!
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The cafeteria was particularly busy that morning, the aroma of freshly ground beans mingling with the faint buzz of conversations and orders being called out bit by bit. The team was scattered around one of the larger tables, enjoying a rare moment of respite. Spencer, sitting at the opposite end of the table, was leafing through an article on criminal psychology that he had printed out earlier, but his eyes didn't stay on the paper for long.
Every few seconds, he cast a discreet glance in your direction, mentally assessing the interaction between you and the rookie agent, who seemed to be much more interested in you than in the conversation.
“Really! You're the main reason I got interested in the FBI.” the rookie said with a broad smile on his face — too broad if Spencer could be honest. He was leaning forward as if he wanted to absorb his every word. “I heard reports about how you dealt with that killer in Seattle. It was brilliant.”
You laughed, trying to disguise your embarrassment. “It was teamwork, as always.”
The rookie shook his head, clearly not convinced. “No, really. You have an amazing way of dealing with things. It must be fascinating to work alongside you every day.”
Spencer, on the other side of the table, turned another page of the article with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the room. No one seemed to notice, except for you, who cast a quick, puzzled glance in his direction.
“Ah, you need to hear this,” said the rookie, leaning even closer. “Once, in training, I was told that an agent like you only comes along once a generation. I bet the criminals don't even know what hit them.”
The exaggerated laugh he let out soon after echoed through the café, attracting stares - including from Spencer, who couldn't hold back any longer. He put the article aside and stood up calmly, but his movements were jerky.
“Sorry to interrupt.” said Spencer, his voice firm but polite, as he approached. ”We need to go over some of the variables in the profile before the meeting later. Do you have a moment now, Love?”
You raised an eyebrow, surprised and relieved by the sudden intervention. “Of course. We can talk now.”
“Great.” he replied, glancing briefly at the newcomer, who gave him a slightly disconcerted smile. “Oh, and maybe afterward you can share your 'inspiration' with the rest of the team, agent. I'm sure we'd all love to hear about the unique generation of talent we'll have here.”
The newcomer looked confused for a moment, but you didn't care, as Spencer was guiding you away, gently holding your arm.
“That was… subtle.” you commented quietly, holding back a laugh as you walked off to the side.
“He was being annoying.” Spencer replied, his eyes still a little dark. “And exaggerated laughter has no place in criminal analysis.”
“Oh, I see,” you said, smiling at him. “Does jealousy have anything to do with it?”
Spencer paused for a moment, the blush creeping up his cheeks. “I just thought the conversation had strayed from its… professional focus.”
You laughed softly. “Thank you, Spencer. That was lovely.”
He opened his mouth to protest but ended up sighing, muttering something about variables while concentrating on something other than the amused smile on your face.
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losersiren · 9 months ago
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𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭
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"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o
The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.
You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 
“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.
The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.
What a bastard
“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.
”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”
His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.
He should’ve fought harder for you.
People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.
 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 
“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.
The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.
The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.
“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.
You’re so close
“I forgive you…I forgive you…”
“I forgive you, Ambrose…”
Oh…
His name on your tongue….
His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.
His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.
“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”
.." Or shall I beg more?"
End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)
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globalrebrand · 3 months ago
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Thinking about this post by @jymwahuwu....what about Capitano with a darling who wouldn't even tell him she's pregnant in the first place?
Warnings: Pregnancy, not sfw, angst, mentions of abortion
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Capitano inquires about your recent doctors visit and you just shrug off his concern. Insisting it was just “a mild flu" and “I'll be better soon.” Never one to pry he doesn't push you for more details, even if your marriage is unconventional, he trusts that you would be honest with him considering he's never done anything to make you mistrustful of him. As far as he knows.
Your husband considers going over your head to confirm your condition with the doctor, but he knows that would only upset you. And regardless you’d bribed the doctor with your allowance to keep your pregnancy a secret.
You tell only your trusted ladies maid. Who diligently helps you keep up the ruse, she lets your bodices out and makes sure you don't show in the early months and makes sure you're never offered wine with dinner.
Capitano isn't around enough to notice the small but tell-tale signs that you're expecting, however, for the others who live in the manor it could not be more abundantly clear that you're pregnant.
So imagine his outrage when he hears of your pregnancy, not from your lips as he would have expected, but from one of the maids. It happens late one night when he's in the library reading, trying to find a moment of peace is an endlessly hectic month, while a maid dusts quietly on the upper level. You've made your self scarce recently and begrudgingly Capitano gives you space. Early in your relationship you told him that he was smothering and he accepted the criticism, and they two of you had found a balance, but now you are cold and aloof. You were never one to be vulnerable, and it was precisely a sort of quiet ferocity that you possessed that captivated him, but he was at his wits end. He thought that the two of you were making progress, but he supposes not, the last five months have been a regression. He would need to talk to you soon, the matter has become so distracting that he tunes in to the whispering happening on the upper levels. Another maid has joined the first as they chat languidly about house gossip when the subject turns to you.
"Her ladyship is so fatigued as of late. I'm not used to her being so torpid. It's disheartening." The first maid whispers almost imperceptibly, her words laced with worry.
Capitano stops focusing on his book entirely. They speak quickly and almost inaudibly quiet in their native Snezhnayan tongue, but his keen ears are able to focus perfectly on the conversation.
"Don't worry, I was the same way with my first, energy always came in bursts, though it left almost as quickly as it came." The other maid, older and a mother herself tries to assuage her colleague. "Poor dear, it only gets worse from this point." She sighs.
Confusion twists Capitano's features. He has in inkling of what the maids could be referring to, but if its as he expects he will be utterly irate that you did not tell him. He needs to hear them say it. Say the word and confirm his suspicions.
"Pregnancy sounds so scary. Ah, I still can't believe she hasn't told his Lordship."
"Oh, that I don’t understand at all, my husband would be furious ."
"Indeed." Capitano says aloud, shutting his book with a violent snap and storming out of the library.
He hears the maids gasp before leaving. Both clearly forgot about his presence. Another unexpected symptom of your influence, the staff have become entirely too comfortable.
Capitano ascends the stairs to your shared chambers. You should be getting ready for bed at about this hour and indeed he finds you in your shared bedroom. When he pushes the door open you startle, stopping in your tracks as you cross the room, but you quickly recompose yourself. This lie you've protracted has likely left you completely on edge.
A fire rumbles behind you in the hearth and your nightgown while not normally so visibly transparent became sheer in the light, it was subtle, but your silhouette against the firelight revealed the slightest protrusion of your midsection. You follow his gaze and turn away from him, without so much as a word.
For five months you’ve hardly let him see you naked not to mention you rejected all his attempts to initiate sex for the past three.
If you apprehend the hostility radiating off your husband, you do not acknowledge it. You were surprisingly stubborn and endlessly poised, keeping your cards quite close to your chest until it was time to play your hand. It would likely upset you but he would force you to show your hand, he'd been far too accommodating of your deceit.
You open your mouth to speak but Capitano wants none of your deflections.
"Pregnant? He questions. His tone, assured and firm. No room for argument, but Capitano can tell from your expression that your're willing to try it anyways.
The audacity that you would give him an incredulous look only incenses him further. He has to wonder why you are working so hard to hide your pregnancy from him.
Unless....it wasn't his.
No. You were many infuriating things, but you weren't disloyal...at least he thought.
"What? No--" His anger surges along with another dagger into his heart. Now he knows you’re lying. Or at least attempting to, but Capitano is having none of it. He has never lied to you. How could you so easily try to deceive him? It was dishonorable at best and a betrayal at worst.
"Don't you dare try to lie to me. The maids have already confirmed as much." He bats away your rebuttal with a terse reply.
As you come to realize the gravity of the situation, of your husbands rage, all color drains from your expression. The look of terror that paralyzes your features is out of place. As long as he you have been his wife, you have never even pretended to fear him. It is one of the qualities he admired about you. Now your wide frightful eyes and rigid frame are making him lose his nerve in the confrontation. An incredibly rare occurrence, the last thing Capitano ever wanted was for you to be afraid of him. However you had crossed a line, you had lied and actively misled him about a matter most important to you both.
"You didn't think to tell me?” He questions, the words curt and cruel.
"Well there's nothing you can do about it now." You reply, your tone defensive and your hackles raised. “It’s too late to….to do anything. The baby is coming.”
"Is it mine?" He questions, unfeeling and entirely unprepared for a negative answer.
"… how fucking dare you." You turn around to curse at him and Capitano is taken aback. He thought your eyes couldn't get any wider.
"Of course it is!" You cry, your expression equal parts outrage and hurt.
"Then why did you hide from me!" He matches your anger, raising his voice and stepping closer as you try to sidestep and evade him. The tightly controlled anger he bottled now sparking and bursting.
"I needed time to prepare." You implore exasperated as if Capitano should have understood your machinations perfectly.
"For what?!" He shouts.
"What if you didn't want it?!" You yell back. No tears have spilled but your eyes are wet and your face feels hot.
Capitano narrows his eyes at you, looking down on your defiant posture equal parts terrified and indignant. Then it all comes into focus.
You want this baby and you...thought he would make you get rid of it. With a gasping sob, you speak up again, your emotions now starting to get the better of you.
"What if you didn't want it....then what would I do?"
As intimate as you two have become in the past half year, Capitano remembers that you are both essentially strangers in many ways.
"Never assume my thoughts." He scolds, his tone terse but with much less bark. He closes the space between you, reaching out a tentative hand to you. Capitano is heartened when you take his hand, slender fingers curling around his broad palm. He begins to relax, but his rage has not subsided fully.
"You think I wouldn't want this child?" He questions, his voice much softer, but a slight resentment still colors his words.
"I didn't know what to think and I-I needed time." You replied, rubbing your tears away with your opposite hand. This is the first time he's seen you like this, so vulnerable. Capitano can't confidently say if he'd ever seen your cry before.
“Time for what?” Capitano urges you for more details. Your reasoning still alludes him. He would have gladly helped with any and all preparations for the baby. Seeing how things unfolded he regrets not being more forthcoming with his thoughts about having a child with you.
“To get a plan in place. If you told me to get rid of it.” Capitano can't even concieve of what you could mean. Would you attempt to leave him? Surely you weren't thinking something so idiotic, but he attempts to reserve judgement when he asks, "what would you have done?"
"Run away." You confess quietly, but Capitano only scoffs and rolls his eyes. The idea is preposterous. You will never leave him, Marriage is a bond that should be upheld and besides he is far too attached for you to leave now.
"I would never allow such a thing. You must honor the vows you made to me." Your husband asserts.
"I would still try. For my baby I-" You insist.
"Our baby." Capitano corrects. You pause, your tears dry and breathing calmed.
"I will not allow the child to inconvenience you." You plead, bringing a hand to his chest and searching his eyes, desperate for validation that he wants what you want. That he wants this child growing inside of you.
"No child of ours could ever be a burden to me." Your shoulders drop with relief and Capitano encircles you with his broad arms.
"You honor me most highly, by having my child." Capitano pauses before continuing, "and our child is already blessed to have a mother who would protect them so fiercely."
"You're not angry?" You question, shocked by his benevolence.
"Oh, I'm livid, but not about the child. At that news, I am delighted."
"I'm sorry," you whisper his name and nuzzle into his chest. "I just couldn't face your rejection. Not with this." You clarify and Capitano begins to see your perspective.
A child changes many dynamics in a romantic partnership and though the two of you seemed relatively stable in your young marriage. He can understand how your fear of his rejection would prevent you from being forthcoming. Especially with a matter so sensitive. Not that even remotely agrees with your actions.
"Is this why you have shied away from me these past month. Why you wouldn't let me touch you?"
You nodded.
Capitano picked you up and laid you on the bed, pushing your night gown up and spreading you legs. He licked his thumb and immediately began to caress your clit.
"You will not hide yourself from me in the future. I must know your thoughts."
You shuddered at the contact.
"Then you must do the same.” You demanded. Capitano could only smile at your gall, to be beneath him legs spread, pussy exposed and still you make demands of him.
"Behave this evening, sufficiently demonstrate your contrition, renew your devotion to me and I will give you anything you ask for." You consider his words before agreeing.
You nod again.
“Say yes husband.” Capitano requests with a raised brow.
"Yes, husband." A rare act of obedience. It suits you well.
Good. Capitano thinks. "I'm glad the terms are agreeable to you." He says lowering himself briefly to press a kiss to your lips, one much deeper and needier than any shared in recent months. Archons, how he's missed being with you like this.
Reluctantly Capitano parts from you and begins to undress himself, one hand working the buttons of his shirt while the other remains steadfast teasing your sex.
"You can start your penance by tending to me as I lick your cunt." Capitano’s smile grows wider as you shiver at his words, clearly aroused an eager. Despite the small pout that lingers on your lips. He heard that the libido of pregnant women was often more intense. You stubborn thing, denying yourself what you so clearly want. It is good that Capitano is in a forgiving mood. Your husband helps you out of your nightdress before laying beside you. He helps guide your hips to his face and keeps a guiding hand on your neck as he leads you to where he aches most. Capitano presses his nose to your dripping sex and inhales deeply. "It's been far too long since we last did this." He all but groans, and despite everything that’s transpired this evening, you're inclined to agree.
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sparklingchim · 4 months ago
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maybe in another universe; m |jjk
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pairing: jungkook x reader
word count: 6.2k
genre: idol!jungkook, angst, childhood friends, exes to lovers?, smut
rating: 18+
warnings: protected sex, making out, groping, fingering, jk is saur in love <3, oc is an overthinker, they're v needy, he loves watching her cum <3, giggly kisses, jk wants to hit it raw so bad 👉🏼👈🏼, one (1) boob squeeze i think, oc scratches his back 🤭
summary: jungkook is tipsy as he wanders the streets of seoul, and still, you're all he can think about.
a/n: it's bestie jk's bday!!! so here's a little fic n i swear i was gonna post smth fluffy but...here we are!!!!! sorry not sorry </3 love u
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“I need you.”
“What?”
“I miss you so bad.”
“Are you drunk?”
“I love you. So much. It kinda hurts.”
“Jungkook.”
Silence. Except for the faint noises of cars passing by.
You hear a little sigh. “Missed hearing you say my name.”
Your fingers clasp tighter around your phone. “Why’d you call?” It’s 2 a. m., and the only reason you answered is because you were worried. This is the first time he’s called since the breakup.
“Just ‘cause,” he mumbles. You can hear the pout he’s speaking with. “We have a one week break from tour and I came back to Korea. Missed home and Mum, and you.”
“You’re in Busan, then?”
“Seoul.”
He’s here. So close.
You shake your head. Take a steady breath to calm your giddy heart. You shouldn’t care.
“Was at my parents’ for two...three days.” After a short pause, he continues, “Been wanting to talk to you all day long, but I didn’t have enough courage.”
“I mean...” You slump back against the couch, your head falling back. “There isn’t anything for us to talk about.”
“No?” he asks, confused. “I’ve got so much to say, though.”
“I meant, like, we shouldn’t be talking. At all. ‘Cause we’re – we’re done.” You thought you were. You thought you made it clear when you broke up with him.
“Haven’t you missed me at all?” He sounds both accusing and sad, and you think your heart breaks a little. “I think about you constantly,” Jungkook whispers, his confession carrying a soft hopelessness through the phone.
You sit up straight. “How much did you drink?”
“Hmm, not much,” he answers. “I’m not drunk!” he quickly adds. “Just needed some alcohol to have enough courage to call you.”
“You drank because of me?”
“You’ve never done this?”
“I’d like to say it wasn’t because of you.”
“So... you’ve been thinking about me too?” he asks tentatively.
You close your eyes. “Is this a conversation we should be having?”
Jungkook heaves a defeated sigh. With your eyes closed, you can almost picture him standing outside, the chill of the night air mixing with his feelings of loneliness. Maybe he’s pacing, or just staring into the distance, eyes weary with a faint trace of frustration mixed with vulnerability etched on his face.
“You can hang up if you want. I just hoped we could talk a bit. I’ve been – I’ve been feeling lonely and a little sad, and I couldn’t get you out of my head,” he babbles. “I’m sorry if you don’t wanna talk.”
You wish you could be cruel – could be a cynic and just hang up. But you can’t. He is tipsy and emotional, and you still love him too much.
“No, it’s fine.” If only he knew how much you’ve been wanting to hear his voice again. “I didn’t expect a call like this tonight, that’s all,” you add, pulling your legs up to your chest. “Are you on your way home?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there soon.”
“You have the dorm all to yourself?”
“The dorm? Ah, yes, I was the only one to fly back to Korea. The others stayed in the US.”
You hug your knees with one arm.
“Why are you still up so late?” Jungkook asks, as if he isn’t the one roaming around, tipsy and a bit of a heartbroken mess, in the city in the middle of the night. He does all that and yet worries about you.
“I was just eating.” Your eyes drift to the remnants of food in front of you. “And watching a drama.” The big screen is on mute. You hurriedly searched for the remote to turn off the sound once you saw the caller’s name.
“With your mum?”
“No, she’s at the studio. I think she’s finishing up some songs,” you say. Your mum left sometime in the evening, saying she’d had a sudden spark of inspiration and needed to go to the company. You bet she won’t come home until 4 a.m. “I couldn’t sleep and was craving some tteokbokki, so...”
“From the restaurant at Gangnam?”
A soft, hesitant smile blossoms on your face. “They make it the most delicious.”
He mutters a wistful sound. “I haven’t had it in so long.”
Your fingertips gently tap against your knees in a slow rhythm. “You should definitely have it before you leave again.”
“With you?” Just two words and yet they’re filled with so much innocent hope.
Your fingers halt.
“Oh?”
“Would you not want to see me?”
“I’m not sure if we should.”
“But do you want to?” He’s met with silence from your side. “You were one of the reasons I really wanted to come back to Korea.”
“But what if I don’t want to meet up?”
“Then don’t open the door.”
“I don’t...What door?”
“Your door,” he answers conversationally.
You hurriedly scramble to your feet and walk to the door. “You’re here?” The screen on the intercom shows Jungkook, holding up his phone against his ear and patiently waiting.
“You watching me?” Jungkook teases, playfully cocking his head to the side as he stares directly into the camera.
“Oh.” You take shy step back. Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“Open the door for me? Please?”
You don’t think it’s a good idea to let Jungkook in. But his doe eyes. His pleading doe eyes. They do it for you.
You buzz him in and, while you wait for him, you try to calm your racing heart.
When the elevator doors open and Jungkook steps out, you’re struck by the sight of him after months apart. You take in every detail: his tousled hair, his tired but still striking eyes, the way the light catches the contours of his face. He looks so handsome, so achingly familiar. You’re drinking him in with your eyes, unable to believe he’s actually here.
“I thought you were heading to the dorm,” you say as Jungkook steps out of the elevator.
“I didn’t say that.” A pout graces his face.
He said he was heading home.
“I missed you,” Jungkook says, and suddenly you become awfully aware of the situation unfolding before you. You have to blink twice to make sure you’re not just picturing a hologram of Jungkook in your apartment. This time, he is real. Not a figment of your imagination.
“Me too,” you admit with a heavy heart.
A lopsided, sorrowful grin appears on his mouth. “Can’t bring yourself to say it back?”
“Jungkook, you-” You shake your head, sighing as your scramble for words. “You shouldn’t even be here.”
It’s the middle of the night, and upon answering a call from Jungkook, he stands right in front of you – just like in the dreams you secretly have at night when you’re feeling lonely again. It shouldn’t be this easy. It really shouldn’t be this easy for him to say these things and fall back into a natural pattern with you when you’ve been crying yourself to sleep at night, wishing your love for him would die.
And yet, here you are, with dangerous words at the tip of your tongue, barely resisting the intense urge of your heart to scream how much it has been wanting him back.
“But let’s not – let's not just stand here.” You point to the slippers next to him. “Take off your shoes and I’ll...I dunno, put on a movie?” You go back into the living room as Jungkook hangs up his coat and follows you.
“Oh, that looks delicious,” Jungkook exclaims when he spots the leftover tteokbokki on the coffee table.
“I can heat it up for you, if you want,” you offer. Judging by the way his tongue wets his bottom lip, it’s clear he’d appreciate that.
Jungkook trails behind you into the kitchen.
“So, watchu been up to?” He leans his forearms on the counter, watching you from across the island as you put the tteokbokki into the microwave.
He’s been in this kitchen countless times before. He’s made you tea when you were sick, prepared hot chocolate when you needed comfort, and knew exactly where to find the snack stash for movie nights. He’s even prepared breakfast for you and your mum on some mornings. But tonight, he can’t shake the feeling of being a stranger here. The memories of those moments feel distant, like a blurry movie he watched when he was too young to fully remember, leaving him with only a vague sense of familiarity.
“Just, you know, studying, working. The usual.” You turn to him, mimicking his position on the other side of the counter.
“So much on your plate that you couldn’t reply to my messages?”
His gaze is intense and shameless, and you look away.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to reply to messages sent by your ex.” You turn around, leaning your back against the counter. “What am I supposed to text back when you tell me that you miss me?”
“Hey, just last week I asked how you were doing. You could’ve replied to that one.” You can sense the sulkiness in his voice, mingled with a touch of light-heartedness, but you don’t turn to face him.
Jungkook closes the distance between you.
“You don’t want me in your life anymore? Like, at all?”
Your engulfed by his scent as he stands next to you, struggling to form a proper answer as you hesitantly peer into his face.
The microwave dings, and you breathe again.
“When was the last time you had this?” You place the plate in front of him and hand him the chopsticks.
“It’s been a few months. Before the tour started, I was dieting, so, maybe 5 months?” Jungkook doesn’t notice the roll of your eyes when he mentions dieting, his attention focused on the hot tteokbokki between his chopsticks. “Mhmmm.” He closes his eyes tightly, tipping his head back as he tastes the food on his tongue. “So good.”
“Feels good to have a bit of home again before you leave?”
Jungkook nods vigorously, his eyebrows scrunched up as he eats more.
You find yourself smiling, only realising it when Jungkook mirrors your grin. A giddy thrill and a soft ache twist together inside you like a secret exposed to the light. Unable to bear the eye contact, you look away, hiding your smile by biting your bottom lip.
You notice Jungkook offering you a piece of tteokbokki in your peripheral vision. “No, thanks. I’m really full. I had a lot.” You rub your belly.
“You always used to steal bites of mine, even when you were full.”
“I used to steal your dessert. Not dinner,” you correct him. “I can never have enough dessert.” You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “But that was when things were... different.”
Jungkook’s playful expression fades slightly. He chews slowly, contemplating your words. “Does it have to be that different?”
The delicate confession that hangs heavily in the air.
The warmth in your chest tightens, and you’re reminded again. Reminded of the reality you’ve both been trying to avoid – more so you than Jungkook.
“Maybe it does,” you reply, the small, almost imperceptible nod you give him almost. “Things change, people change.”
The weight of your words settles over both of you like a cold shadow.
Jungkook’s eyes search yours, as if trying to find a crack in the wall you’ve put up. “But what if some things don’t have to change? What if...some things are worth holding on to?”
So much longing and regret in his words, his eyes, his heart – he is blue everywhere.
“It’s not that simple, Jungkook.” The ache in your voice betrays the calm you’re trying to maintain. “We can’t just go back to how things were.”
He steps closer, and his familiar scent surrounds you again, making it so hard to act rationally when so many past memories swirl in your mind.
“I know we can’t go back. But I don’t want to lose you completely. Can’t we find a way to be something else? Something that works?”
The idea of keeping him in your life, even in a different way, tugs at you, but you know the danger in that. You know how easily the lines could blur again, how much harder it would be to protect your heart.
That reminds you, there are still pieces of Jungkook left in your room; t-shirts and sweatshirts scattered in your wardrobe.
Taking a deep breath, you push off the counter. “Before I forget, there are still some of your things in my bedroom.”
You catch the sudden confusion in Jungkook’s eyes, but you don’t let it deter you as you pad into your room.
“It’s just a few of your shirts. I’ve been meaning to give them back to you, but uh, I wasn’t sure how to approach you because I didn’t want to contact you, but anyways.” You grab the neatly folded pile of clothes from the back of your wardrobe. “Now you’re here, so.” You hold the pile out to him.
He regards his forgotten clothes with a sight raise of his brow. His hands don’t move to take them.
“They’re old anyway,” he says. “I don’t need them. Just throw them out.”
You hesitate, holding the pile tightly.
You won’t throw them out. He knows that too.
“Fine,” you shrug nonchalantly, storing his clothes back into your wardrobe. They sit there, a constant reminder that he still has a place in your life, even when he shouldn’t. Haunting every little corner that still belongs to him. But you’re just as guilty, allowing him to do so.
When you turn around again, you see the loaded expression on his face, and your immediate response is to ignore it – redirect his attention before he starts digging up old feelings, past memories, and forgotten promises that will only make you doubt the walls you’ve tried to put between you.
“I think you still have some tteokbokki left-”
“___.” Jungkook interrupts you, grabbing your hand. You feel the warmth of his skin, and you’re mortified and comforted at the same time. “I thought we would always speak comfortably with each other. No hiding, no walls – just the truth.”
“That was before the breakup,” you counter, barely able to hold his gaze. “There is no we anymore.”
“How can you say that when our whole lives have been intertwined? We can’t just pretend it all meant nothing, erase everything.”
“Being with me is an inconvenience for you, Jungkook.”
“Is that why you broke up?”
Ah, right. You never told him the real reason.
The night when you broke up with Jungkook was a bit chaotic.
You hadn’t planned on ending the relationship. Threads of worry had plagued you for some time, and you had been considering breaking up with him, but you never had the courage. You loved him, still do. And losing the one person you’ve trusted since childhood was terrifying.
But that night, while waiting for Jungkook at your favourite convenience store, you grew impatient. Waited for so long that you started eating ramyeon without him. As you sat by the window, gazing at the night sky, you decided that tonight you would break up.
Jungkook had always been busy, and you never minded it. Didn’t even mind it as you were eating ramyeon while pondering how to tell Jungkook. But Jungkook had so many things on his plate, so many worries, and you didn’t want to make his life more complicated by being his girlfriend. He tried so hard to always respond to your texts, tried to call at reasonable times instead of the middle of the night after practise, and promised to meet you at times other than when the sun had long fallen.
Jungkook needed to prioritise things that were more important to him.
And knowing his selfish tendencies, you needed to help him a little.
“Part of it, yeah,” you answer.
Jungkook doesn’t hesitate when he says, “You’re worth the inconvenience.”
You think he holds your hand a little tighter, but maybe you imagined it.
“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you, and that night, I – I didn’t know if I would ever feel okay again.”
Jungkook was so used to you giving in. Was so selfishly used to having you whenever he wanted, that once you finally pulled away, his world had lost its gravitational pull. Suddenly, he was left adrift, circling aimlessly like a planet that had lost its orbit.
“I still don’t know. I miss you every night and keep wondering how to move on, but I’m not sure if that will ever happen. How do you move on from a love like ours?”
He’s known you for almost his entire life, and having you completely erased from his life felt like something he could never get over. Jungkook went a little insane. Everyone around him noticed his change in behaviour, but he pretended to be clueless, perhaps as a foolish act of hoping that you might return, change your mind, want him again, and never leave. It’s the hopeless romantic in Jungkook that makes him cling to shreds of hope for a better ending – a happy ending.
And maybe it’s not so hopeless after all, he thinks, as he watches your eyes sparkle with gentle love when you meet his gaze.
“Have you never thought about calling me?” he asks. “Never wanted to text back?”
“I almost do every night.”
“What makes you hesitate?” Jungkook steps closer, and it’s so dangerous, but you can’t keep pretending you don’t want him.
Which is why you whisper your next words, staring down at the small space retaining between your bodies.
“Because I know that I’d forgive and not fight.” You want to force your eyes back to him, but can’t. “It’s not like I wanted to break up. I just did it because I thought it was the wisest decision for us.”
“___.” It’s just a soft murmur of your name, slipping off his tongue with more love than it should, and it sends your heart fluttering far too easily. His voice draws your gaze up to him, and you’re met with eyes brimming with pure yearning and raw adoration. You never forgot how he looked at you, but you did underestimate the intense pull of his gaze – how it stirs something deep within you, even now.
“I thought it was for the better, but...” You trail off, lost in his eyes, forgetting what you were trying to explain and deny. Because what does it matter? How does anything matter when he’s here – when he’s here and not a single bit of his love for you has wavered?
Jungkook cups your cheek with his free hand. It pulls you closer to him. His thumb brushes gently across your skin, and the world outside of this moment blurs into insignificance.
You can feel your resolve crumbling, the walls you’ve built around your heart starting to fracture. It’s terrifying and comforting all at once, the way he’s always had this power over you – the way he can unravel you with just a look, a touch, a simple word.
“I don’t want to let you go,” Jungkook says, his voice tight with emotion. His hand remains on your cheek, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.
“Neither do I,” you confess, barely believing your own words. But voicing it out loud seems to untangle something within you that had been knotted and confused for so long.
Jungkook’s eyes search yours, making sure he heard you right, that this moment is real and not just another dream he’s afraid of waking up from. His thumb stills on your cheek, and you can feel the warmth of his palm spreading across your skin, grounding you, anchoring you.
“Is this okay?” He leans in the slightest bit.
You nod, muttering a small “Yeah” as your gaze lingers on his sparkling eyes, the soft curve of his nose, the tiny mole beneath his lip – everything that reminds you of longing, comfort and the feeling of home.
The moment his mouth presses against yours, you feel a surge of warmth. It’s tender and soft, his mouth brushing against yours with a mix of hesitance and longing. As the kiss deepens it becomes more fervent, more urgent, as if he’s trying to convey everything he’s been holding back.
Your lips move with a slow, deliberate rhythm, and the touch of his tongue sends shivers down your spine. There’s a slight pressure as he cups your face, wanting you closer, while his other hand slides down your back, settling on your waist.
“I hope you know that I didn’t come here with these intentions.” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, his voice husky. But you guide him towards your bed.
“I know. It’s okay.” You straddle his lap. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you to.”
Jungkook’s hands are eager and exploratory, skimming over your shoulders, your back, and down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. His chin rests in the crook of your neck as he breathes in deeply.
“You don’t know how much I missed you,” he mumbles, nose tickling your neck as he snuggles closer to you. “You missed me too, right?” he speaks with an innocent pout on his lips that you don’t even need to see – you know it’s there.
“Of course I did. Why would you think otherwise?” You run your fingers through his silky hair, which is a comfort for both you and him.
“I think I just need to hear you say it.”
He draws back, and a soft smile touches your lips as you see the achingly tortured expression contorting his face – traces of love and relief at having you so close, right where he wants you.
“I missed you.” You keep your eyes on him.
“Again,” he urges softly.
“I missed you.”
Your fingers gently curl around his face.
Jungkook’s lips brush against yours in a fleeting kiss. His forehead falls against yours as your words sink into him, straight to his heart.
“One more time? Please?”
A giggle slips out of you. “I missed you, Jungkook.”
Your laugh dies in your throat when he crashes his lips against yours, more forceful and passionate this time, pulling you so close to him, you feel everything.
Your hips move on their own, instinctively grinding against his lap. He’s hard and the bulge is right where you’re craving him the most. You kiss turns sloppy and needy and it’s filled with heavy breathing.
Jungkook’s hands are all over you. His touches leave tingling sparks everywhere. You’ve gone months without him, and every little brush of his finger makes you lose your mind. Especially when his hand dips into the front of your tiny shorts, lightly grazing the pad of his finger against your panties and making you twitch when he brushes over your clit. You break the kiss, inhaling sharply.
“I wanna make you feel good.” His words are hushed, a slight tremor tinging his voice. His fingers disappear into your panties, rubbing his middle finger along your folds and spreading your wetness. Jungkook is tender as he moves his finger, and you wish you could see him playing with you, watch him be so soft with you because he loves treating you with delicate care, and you love feeling like you’re everything to him.
Your hips buck as he circles your aching clit. You start whine softly as Jungkook applies a little more pressure, his steady, deliberate movements intensifying the sensations as he continues to rub your sensitive spot.
“You like it?” His gaze fixed intently on your reactions to his touches. His doe eyes drink up every nuance of your face and body – each twitch, shudder, and breath. His expression brightens with a trace of satisfaction.
“Feels good,” you reply shakily.
He has you making his fingers all sticky and wet. As Jungkook slowly teases your hole, drawing tiny circles and ever so slightly dipping the tip of his finger inside, your eyes close and your breath catches while you anticipate the familiar stretch of his finger.
Jungkook slides two fingers inside you, and your brows furrow as you feel them burying deep within your pussy. He moves them slowly, each stroke eliciting soft, breathy moans from you. The gradual, teasing rhythm amplifies your pleasure, and with each tender push, your senses heighten, making you ache for more.
“Move your finger like – oh. That’s right. Don’t stop, please.”
His fingers brush against your sweet spot continuously, making you grip his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into his skin as you try to anchor yourself and try to tame the soft trembles of your body as the pleasure reaches you everywhere.
Jungkook holds you close to him by having his hand placed firmly on the small of your back. He keeps you perched on his lap while you lose yourself in the feeling.
As the pleasure builds, you find yourself melting into him, whimpering his name in a gentle hush. The soft sounds of your voice blends with the rhythmic movements of his fingers.
Jungkook feels you tightening around him. He doesn’t increase his pace but keeps his steady pattern going, exactly how he knows you like it. You hide your face on his shoulder, overwhelmed by the fast-approaching high. Your muffled noises sharply contrasting with the squelching sounds coming your shorts.
“Let me see you,” Jungkook gently requests, tugging gingerly at your shirt to draw you back. It’s just a delicate tug, but it’s enough to pull you away from him. You’re too immersed by the intense feelings enveloping you to fully respond.
He catches the exact moment when your moan gets caught in your throat, your lashes flutter shut, and the sweetest glow settles on your face as you reach your climax.
He doesn’t tease you, instead, he lets you revel in the wave of euphoria that pulses through you, your thighs quivering as you gradually come down from your high. As our breath steadies, your foreheads touch, and you exhale heavily through your nose, tickling Jungkook’s face.
He smiles. His eyes reflect a deep satisfaction, because you’re happy and that’s enough.
Jungkook’s hands travel to your sides and he slowly strokes his palms up and down. Your body is warm and shaky and he wants to hold you forever.
“Is it okay that I want more?”
You nod, kiss him, probably a little deliriously, answering, “I want it just as much.”
Your hand glides under his sweater, fingers tracing the contours of his toned stomach. Jungkook wastes no a time pulling the sweater over his head, tossing it carelessly behind you. He helps you shimmy out of your shorts, discarding your clothes in a hasty rush, stealing giggly kisses between each movement, because you need to feel. He playfully comments on how cute your panties are. His finger lazily skims over the little pink ribbon before the material sinks slips down your legs and pools around your feet in a small heap. You giggle shyly.
Just as you want to sink onto your knees, Jungkook grabs you by the elbows, not letting you.
“Want you on the bed, ___. I need to feel you,” he says, voice strained with desperate need. Jungkook leads you onto the bed, gently laying you down. Your head sinks into the soft pillows. He spreads your legs, settling himself comfortably between them.
Your hair is fanned around your head against the pillow. Jungkook can’t help but stare, utterly captivated. He brushes a few strands away from your face, his fingertips lingering as if memorising every curve. His gaze holds a quiet affection, mingled with a sense of awe, like he is seeing you for the first time and falling for you all over again.
A curse slips his mouth as she stared down at your bare pussy, glistening and shining just for him, looking so pretty only for his eyes. For a few seconds, he allows himself to rub his tip over your wet folds. Just gentle brushes, nothing more. You don’t stop him, letting him play a little.
Jungkook is painfully hard, and he dares to slide his tip further down to tease your hole a little. His stare is fixed downcast while he pokes his cheek with his tongue to distract himself from the urge to push himself all the way as he minimally dips his head inside. Jungkook’s so sensitive, he thinks he could cum like this. He’d go insane if he slipped his cock into without protection. He’s let his mind wander to this fantasy a few times and he so desperately wants to feel all of you with no barrier, especially after not having you for so long, but you both have to be careful.
Someday, when you’re older, Jungkook thinks. When he can love you endlessly without always having to consider the consequences.
“Jungkook.” You pull him back to reality, and a faint pink flush colours his face.
He bends over and opens your nightstand drawer, searching for a condom. His fingers brush against several plastic foil packages, and he pauses, lost in thought. He thinks back to the last time he was over at yours. How many were left in the drawer then? Is his mind playing tricks on him, or were there more condoms the last time he was here?
While Jungkook’s mind drifts to you every night his head falls against the pillow in a different city each night – have you been letting other boys warm your bed?
You say his name again, forcing him out of his racing thoughts once more, this time with a note of impatience.
Jungkook tears open the wrapper, tosses it away along with his doubts, and focuses on you again. You chose him, and for now, that’s all that matters to him.
He rolls it down his length. Your eyes fixate on the slow connection of your bodies. Once he’s fully inside, a shaky whimper escapes your throat, trembling as it leaves you. Jungkook begins to move his hips with deliberate thrusts, and your head rolls back, eyes drifting to the ceiling as Jungkook finds his pace.
“You’re so pretty.” His eyes roam over your naked figure, so much adoration and maybe a hint of obsession hiding in them. The white covers beneath you are messy and chaotic, and you lie on top of them like a delicate masterpiece, a striking contrast to the chaos of the bed. The soft light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting every curve and contour. The soft swells of your boobs move with every thrust and he enjoys the sight of it.
You grow a little shy beneath his intense gaze. You turn your head and cover your face with your arm.
Jungkook lowers himself, clicking his tongue as he gently pulls your arm away. “Don’t.” His grip is firm on your wrist and he holds it against the covers, preventing you from hiding again. However, his hold on your chin is careful as he guides your gaze back to him. Fingers slightly caressing your skin. “I love everything about you, baby.” His words coax a small smile from you, which he acknowledges with an approving nod and a smile of his own. “You don’t need to hide from me.”
“It’s just been a while.” You bite your lip. The shyness still lingers, like spotting your crush in a crowded room and instinctively hiding, feeling all giddy inside.
Jungkook slows a little, buried so deep inside you, but his movements are precise, hitting the spot that makes your tummy clench.
“I know,” he says softly, tracing his thumb over your lip to free it from your clenched teeth. He plants a little kiss on your mouth, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip to soothe the ache you’ve caused yourself. “I don’t think I’ll last long,” Jungkook admits as his round nose brushes your cheek. You’re so wet and snug around him that he has to focus intently to keep from coming right away. You’re too good, too pretty, occupying every corner of his mind. “Missed you so much. You don’t even know.”
Jungkook’s head falls into the crook of your shoulder. His moans grow a little louder as he moves faster again. He can’t help himself. Feels too good. You wrap your legs around him, allowing him to bury himself even deeper. You pull him closer, throwing your arms around him to have him as close to you as possible while Jungkook repeatedly tells you how much he has missed you and loves you, how he never wants to let go of you and keep you to himself forever. How you are meant for him just as much he is meant for you.
Jungkook sneaks one hand between your bodies and grasps your breast. Keeps a firm squeeze around your flesh while your bed rhythmically hits the wall. All the tender murmurs and quiet gasps of your love had been missing from your room for so long that you began to doubt if Jungkook would ever again fill your bed with his warmth and whispers.
You feel the heat rising on your skin, growing with each passing second, and you can sense it on Jungkook’s body too. His back is hot, slightly slick with a sheen of sweat, and you can’t resist digging your nails into his muscled shoulders, leaving chaotic, frantic lines across his skin. A whine, which you try to suppress, tumbles from your lips as the tingling sensation spreads through you.
Jungkook pulls back, his movements weary yet determined, and peers at you through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Jungkook,” you mumble weakly, and he nods, because he knows.
With a gentle but firm motion, Jungkook shifts, guiding you both onto your sides. He slips an arm beneath your waist, holding you close to his chest as he continues to move inside you. The new position allows him to thrust deeper, and you gasp. His other hand slides down your thigh, hitching your leg over his hip to open you up further.
The intimacy of the position, with your bodies so close and intertwined, makes everything feel more intense, more personal. As you move together, your eyes lock. You see in his eyes the reflection of your own emotions, a mirror of longing, affection.
Tears begin to well up in your eyes, not just from the overwhelming pleasure, but from the sheer depth of the moment, the intimacy of it all, and how much you’ve missed him.
He notices the tears glistening in your eyes. “Baby,” he breathes. “Are those tears for me?”
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’m not letting you leave me again.” It’s a promise wrapped in desire. “That’ll never happen again.”
His hand on your waist grips you tighter, and his thrusts become more urgent until you’re both teetering on the edge.
Jungkook’s hips stutter as he loses control, and with one final, deep thrust, he’s all the way inside you, spilling into the condom with a low groan. At the same time, you reach your peak, your body clenching tightly around his length, breathy puffs escaping your lips as the intense tremors take over. Jungkook’s holds you steady through all of it.
He stays inside you, savouring the warmth and closeness for a few more moments before carefully pulling out. He presses soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, his breath still uneven as you both come down from the high.
Later, after Jungkook asked if it’s okay to stay – just as you had been plagued by the thought that he might want to leave, and sighed in relief upon realising you were on the same page, lovesick and obsessed after finding each other again – and after he asked if he could borrow one of his old t-shirts and you giggled, saying they are his anyway (they are more yours than his and you both know it), you’re now cuddled up in bed with your head on his chest, right on top of his heart where you belong.
“Forgot how comfy your bed is.” He nuzzles deeper into the mattress, wriggling beneath you.
“You should visit more often, then.”
Jungkook sniffs a surprised laugh at your flirty remark.
“I should, huh?” He brushes his knuckles over your back. “After the tour, I’ll make sure to drop by as often as possible,” he says. “So much that you might get sick of me.”
You smile. Banter and flirt and giggle with him a bit more before you both drift off to sleep.
But you wonder, every time your eyes flutter open in the dark, is it actually this easy to fall back into normality?
Pretend the last few months didn’t happen and continue as you had never been apart?
Questions swirl in your head all night long, but the answer to your doubts lies right beside you. Unlike you, he isn’t awake, grappling with what’s right and wrong – he’s softly sleeping, peacefully unconscious of your turmoil.
It makes you think, is it really this simple and you’re just too much? Or is it all a mess, and you’re the only one trying to make sense of it?
Maybe you had it all wrong.
And you wonder, the next morning, are you really that surprised to find the spot next to you empty?
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seraphicsentences · 5 months ago
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all mine (pt.2)
closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader
pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.
please click here!
tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.
A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.
so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.
this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!
it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.
her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.
even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.
abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.
“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.
unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.
she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.
it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.
what’s up with that, hm?
~
2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.
“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.
it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.
abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.
skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.
her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.
maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.
towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.
what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??
cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.
and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-
you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.
“hey, anderson.”
that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.
and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.
the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.
“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.
you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.
“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”
abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.
you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.
your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.
“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.
abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.
but as always, she needs more.
she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.
she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.
“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.
“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.
“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.
every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.
you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.
curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.
abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.
as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.
“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.
she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.
the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.
“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.
you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.
her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.
you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.
“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.
up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.
you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.
your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.
abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”
you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”
she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.
“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”
she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.
she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.
“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.
all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.
her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.
her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.
it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.
abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.
she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.
abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.
your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.
“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.
“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.
“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.
you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.
“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.
“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.
abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.
“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.
“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.
“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.
8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.
“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.
“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.
“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”
it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.
you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”
you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”
“i just mean- i, you know,”
you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.
“don’t-“
“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”
“…yeah.”
“that’s what i thought.”
you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.
you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”
“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.
“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.
“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.
her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.
“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.
you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.
you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.
“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?
“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”
“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.
“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”
“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”
abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.
you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”
and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.
“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.
“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.
“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.
“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.
abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.
“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.
“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.
“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”
loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.
her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.
you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.
“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“
“abby.”
“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“
“abby.”
“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“
“ABBY.”
her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.
“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.
you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.
“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.
you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.
she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”
a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.
“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.
abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.
she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.
but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.
you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.
“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.
you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.
you settle on one.
“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.
abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.
“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.
you see her breath catch in her throat.
“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.
she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.
and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.
so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.
so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.
ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.
i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!
anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)
also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.
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@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson
@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent
@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3
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parfaitblogs · 3 months ago
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north star ❀ s. reid x reader
in which you're up late doing an assignment, and spencer reid has a nightmare. 
pairing: spencer reid x uni student!reader genre: comfort  tags: post prison reid. & his trauma. & his fears. casual nudity (showering together). hurt/angst but its secondhand. which is what we call empathy... yes... reader mentioned being hurt in a nightmare. word count: 2.3k a/n: i got a request recently with a similar sort of premise to this, so while it isn't exact this is indeed for you... north star is one of my all time favourite searows songs. here's to being spencer reid's north star. and also a university student awake at 4am. 
Spencer Reid had not slept in his own bed in three weeks.
The couch in the centre of his apartment had become a constant pile of blankets and pillows, a — probably permanent — indent of his body pressed into the cushions. The coffee table a littering of books he had read through, contact solution, and, when he wasn't reading, his glasses. Always.
You had gotten used to sleeping alone in an apartment somebody else was residing in after the first few days, leaving the bedroom door open so you could hear the sound of pages of a book turning, and faintly see the silhouette of your boyfriend out in the living room. It was comforting enough that it willed you to sleep, though the longing for him to be beside you never dulled.
Tonight was no different. In fact, the only slight change from your usual routine, was the fact that you were the one still awake, and he was fast asleep. Albeit, it was four in the morning, and you most certainly should not be up. 
Your face was illuminated uncomfortably by the blue light of your laptop, a knee beneath your chin as you stared blankly at the half written essay in front of you. You were tired, and all you wanted was to be in bed. Unfortunately, your university had the worst deadlines imaginable, and three o'clock in the afternoon was creeping up on you and this unfinished assignment fast. 
Your head lifted at the sound of blankets rustling, expecting to be met with the sight of a peacefully sleeping Spencer Reid. Instead, he was sat upright, blanket covering his silhouette, though not hiding the heaving of his chest; the rise and fall of his shoulders. 
"Spence?" you called out from his desk that you were currently residing at, still slightly unsure if he was actually awake — he had sleep walked one of the earlier nights. 
He didn't respond. You watched as he hunched over, and you could make out the action of his fingers burying in his hair. 
Assignment be damned, you pushed the wheelie chair back and stood up, hands fidgeting with one another as you headed over to the couch. 
"Spencer?" you said his name again as you hesitantly got closer, not wanting to startle him too much if he was about to start sleep walking. 
His head lifted, and you felt your heart slow in relief when his eyes met yours. Short lived relief, however, for the soft glow of the lamp across the room illuminated him just enough for you to catch the glassiness in his eyes, the sticking of his hair to his forehead from sweat, and the frightened look on his face. 
"Hey," you greeted, quietly, one step after the other carrying you over to him, and you crouched down in front of the couch. 
"Nightmare," he muttered, simply, voice hoarse. 
"Ah," you nodded in recognition, hands flexing by your side with the need to touch him. "You wanna talk about it?"
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but you didn't press any further for a response as he zoned out on the coffee table behind you for a few moments. When his gaze finally landed back on you, he stared blankly at your face, finding the words inside his brain. 
"They hurt you," he managed to choke out successfully, voice heavy with whatever was lodged in his throat. 
You didn't have to ask who they were, your eyes flickering in acknowledgement of what he was telling you. "They can't," you settled on saying. 
"I know," was his response, eyes dropping to his lap, the blanket falling from his shoulders as his posture hunched over even more. "But they did. And I couldn't do anything about it."
You despised being speechless in front of him. The silence layering over the two of you in a dimly lit room, a heavy blanket translating your lack of words for what he was going through. He always knew what to say to you, and yet, Spencer Reid being traumatised from prison was a concept you could never seem to grasp no matter how hard you tried. Not fully, at least. What on Earth is there to say to somebody who was having nightmares like this? What comfort could you provide?
You hesitated, then reached out, clasping one of his hands within your own, bringing it to your face. Every action was cautious on his end, but you managed to splay his fingers across your cheek, palm resting against the skin. Gently, for despite everything that had changed about Spencer in prison, his gentleness for you had not.
"I'm okay," you whispered to him, and it was then that he registered what you were trying to do. 
He carried more weight in his hand, committing the feeling of your warm, active skin to memory. His fingers stretched and found the pulse of your neck, for no reason other than to feel it beat against the tip of them. It was minutes of sitting in this silence, his eyes firmly shut, while yours studied his face. Every parting of his lips, every irregular breath he took in and exhaled, every slight twitch in his eyebrow. Everything. 
When he finally opened his eyes, breathing a little less erratic and gaze a lot less afraid, you spoke. "Shower?" 
Wordlessly he nodded his head, and allowed you to lift him to his feet, trudging after you with short steps, that you waited for patiently. 
It had taken a week for Spencer to shower again upon coming home. And since then, you had needed to be there for every single one. A stark contrast to the man who isolated himself much more now — needing to be able to see you as he showered. He never explained it, but you sort of knew why.
He stripped of his shirt at the same time as you, his torso no longer the palette of purple and yellow it had been weeks ago. Which should be comforting to you. And yet, as his bruises faded, so did his already dampened spark. The excitement of coming home wearing off, as he was forced to face everything he had endured for a quarter of a year. 
And you tried not to hold it against him, or even be upset about it. It is not his fault existing everyday has become an uphill battle, and it certainly isn't his fault he's horrified of seemingly normal things. But you missed him. It. The light of the man you fell in love with.
The two of you stepped into the shower, in silence, once you had rid yourselves of your clothes, and despite the cold air nipping at your bare skin, you let him stand under the water for as long as he needed to. Visibly watching him sink further into his skeleton, shoulders drooping. He reached for you, hesitantly, and you allowed him to decide where to place his hands. Eventually, one looped around your waist and pressed against the small of your back to step closer to him, the outer water droplets from the showerhead spraying uncomfortably onto your face. Your face scrunched, and your head jerked back, and his lips pulled into a frown. 
"Sorry," he mumbled, stepping back, and your heart sank at the frown on his lips. 
"It's okay," you answered, voice soft. "Can I wash your hair?"
"Yes," he confirmed with a nod, ducking his head down when you reached for shampoo. 
Shaking, your fingers worked lathered shampoo through his hair. Your heart sank at the sight of him, for his shoulders were tensing with every stroke of your fingertips against his scalp. 
"You're stuck in your head," you observed, guiding his head back under the water to rinse the soap out of his locks. 
"Mm," was all he replied with.
"How can I get you out of it?" 
"I can't even get myself out of it," he mumbled.
You don't know what to say. Again. There's only so much you can say to him when he's like this, and even then, most of the time he won't listen. Too overwhelmed with the flashing images of you hurt, usually, the screaming guilt in his brain.
"I'm not hurt, Spence," you decided to tell him instead. 
"I know," he responded, voice pleading, though you knew he wasn't pleading with you. "But I can't get the image of you like that out of my mind."
You fell silent. Again. 
"Sorry," he repeated, his apologising incessant. Though, you knew better than to tell him not to apologise anymore.
Instead, while your fingers worked conditioner through the ends of his hair, you brought up another idea. "How about we go to the roof?"
"It's four in the morning," he murmured. 
"Like that's ever stopped you from doing anything ever," you huffed, and his lips twitched.
"It'll be cold," he argued, watching your shoulders deflate with his second denial of the idea. His own heart dropped. "Yeah, okay. We can go to the roof."
"We don't have to," you said, guiding his head back under the water. "Not if you don't want to."
"I just don't want you to get sick," he replied.
"Don't worry about me."
"I do."
You knew that. It was his constant worry for your wellbeing that led you to these moments.
"Come on."
Stepping out of the shower, you handed him the first towel, wrapping one around yourself afterwards. You picked up both toothbrushes and gave him one of them, leaning against the edge of the sink.
Every movement he now completed was calculated. Hesitant. He was almost completely stationary as he brushed his teeth, if not for the slight shake in his arm with each stroke. But he was staring at you, and it was the kindness in his eyes that kept your heart from falling apart in front of him. 
By the time you had reached the roof, he was a little more conversational, even smiling at your attempt at a joke (though, you were pretty sure that wasn't very genuine).
"Come here," you said, holding your arms out in front of you, walking backwards. He caught up to you, clasping your hands within his own, movement akin to a rag doll as you tugged him closer. 
"No," he protested when you placed his hands on your waist, clocking precisely what you were doing with him within seconds. 
"Yes," you argued, encircling your arms around his neck. "Humour me for a bit."
"I thought we were looking at the stars."
"You thought wrong."
Despite himself and his disdainful grumbling, he let you sway your two bodies, a silent dance amongst the distant, quiet hum of car engines. 
"I don't like dancing," he said, after a few long minutes.
"I know."
"So why did you take me up here to dance?"
The sharp sentences had become a staple in Spencer Reid's speech, though usually unintentional, and usually going unnoticed by him. They still hurt.
"Because," you began, forcing your eyes to fixate on his face, and not the scattering of stars and silhouettes of buildings you could see stretched out behind him. "You're thinking about how much you don't like dancing."
"Yes. I am."
You stilled your bodies and stared at him for a few beats, expectantly, until it rolled over in his brain, and he realised what you were doing. You had, successfully, distracted him from the nightmare. 
He didn't say anything more, but his eyes had softened, and you knew from that he was thankful. Silent communication had become your shared best friend with Spencer.
"I don't know how to stop them," he mumbled, head bowing and unkempt curls covered his face, that you were quick to brush back, hands resting on either side of his jawline. "The nightmares."
"I don't know either," you answered, hating the sound of the words coming out of your mouth. You despised not having all the answers for him, like he probably would for you. "Therapy, I guess."
"I've been doing therapy. Everyday. It isn't helping."
"You've been home less than a month."
"But it isn't getting any better."
Your chest ached, meeting his gaze once again as he snapped his head up on his words. Uncomfortable desperation dressed his face, and it was as though he was crumbling right there in front of you — your hands unable to pick up the shattered pieces quick enough. 
You hadn't dealt with a trauma wound this bad, this fresh, ever. You weren't equipped for that. A university assignment, that sat incomplete in a softly lit apartment, for a degree you were yet to claim, proved that. Spencer knew that. He knew you wouldn't have the answers he needed; they were answers even he didn't have. 
"I'm sorry," he said, quietly. "This isn't fair on you."
No, it wasn't. And you don't want to imagine how you would be in his position instead, but you were pretty sure you'd be just as bad, if not worse. 
"Please don't apologise for feeling things," you decided to say instead. "You're allowed to feel things."
"I've been horrible."
"You've been human."
He fell silent at that, and when you were sure he didn't have any other incessant apologies or heartbreaking discoveries to drop on you at — what was now probably — five o'clock in the morning, you offered him your arms. Arms he took, and arms he allowed to wrap him up in an embrace you wanted to die with. 
Silence communicated words you couldn't say to one another. Echoing I love you's ricocheted around in your brain, and you hoped they did in his too. 
I love you. I love you. I love you. 
your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡
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redr0sewrites · 6 months ago
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not possible - Viktor x reader
🥀A/n: this was originally a request but it strayed wayyy too far off course... the writing had a mind of its own and im not sorry. but i AM sorry for not posting in a while.... ive been super hyperfixated on DC sorry
🥀Cw: fluff, non-sexual nudity, bathing, exhaustion/overworking
🥀Word Count: 1.2k words
🥀Synopsis: Viktor is overworking yet again, yet upon your insistence, finally takes a break.
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Viktor was well aware that the candle at his side had long since burnt out, yet he was unwilling to find a replacement. the moon was bright tonight, and, combined with the soft blue glow emitting from the hextech he was working on, Viktor could make out the tools in front of him without any assistance.
he knew that working in the dim light was not a good idea, considering how straining ones' eyes could lead to faulty vision, but he couldn't bring himself to care. the ache in his bones ran deep, and his fingers shook with each breath. of course Viktor knew he should turn in for the night, but he found himself stuck in his chair, mindlessly fiddling with his most recent hextech project.
he was so engrossed in his work, he barely noticed your approach until you were practically on top of him. familiar hands find purchase on his shoulders and he jumps, only to melt back into your touch.
"ah, it's you," Viktor murmurs, turning around to face you. "may i ask, what are you doing up so late?"
"collecting you," you murmur, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "it's already two in the morning. you've been here long enough."
Viktor sighs, and allows you to press a few more kisses to his face. the bags beneath his eyes were heavy, he was stiff and sore, and above all, he was exhausted.
joining you back home was certainly enticing, and hextech could always wait until tomorrow. and yet, the troublesome, burning itch beneath his skin wouldn't dissipate. he needed to complete just one more ruin combination, just finish this one little task, and then he'd let himself rest. at least, that's what he'd been telling himself for the past three hours.
"i can tell your overworking yourself again," you whisper, and Viktor huffs indignantly.
"overworking is, eh, a strong word. i am perfectly capable-" you cut him off by cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.
"Viktor, i am in no way denying your capabilities. however, you still need sleep. so, come back with me, and you can continue working tomorrow after a full nights rest. does that work?"
Viktor heaves another weary sigh, but agrees. you silently watch as he stands and steadies himself with his cane, not wanting to appear too overbearing but still concerned about his exhaustion. you wish you could alleviate some of the stress and burden that he carries, even though he relentlessly assured you that loving him was enough.
meanwhile, Viktor wordlessly packs up for the night. he knew you were trying to mask it for his own dignity, but the concern on your face was evident in the slightest furrow of your brow and pinch of your lips. he found it hopelessly endearing how you worried over him, and only wished that you would stop for your own sake.
after all, he was doing this for you. for the chance to live happily with you someday, after saving the lives of so many others. hextech consumed so much of his time, yet Viktor intended to make it up to you tenfold when you two would grow old together.
"you ready to head home?" your voice slices through his thoughts like a knife through warm butter, and he finds himself unable to do anything but nod. you did not hesitate to take his hand as you two walk back towards your shared abode, nor did you complain when he had to pause and catch his breath after some particularly bad pain in his leg. by the time you both arrived at your home, Viktor felt even more exhausted.
"i know it's late, but do you want to take a bath before going to bed?" your question lingers in the air for a few seconds before Viktor nods, and you begin setting up. you both know the warm water would only soothe his aching joints, and provide momentary relief from the pain he suffers from.
🥀
its not long before you and Viktor are curled against eachother in your large bathtub after washing off. he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he absentmindedly washed your back, and you let out a relaxed sigh. you were both night-owls, but Viktor was much more accustomed to fighting off exhaustion.
you bite down on your bottom lip as more worries begin to seep into your mind. you feel almost selfish for missing him when he works so hard, and yet you want nothing more than to take all of his stress away. Viktor is quick to notice as you slip deeper in thought, between your tense muscles and quickened breathing, he can read you like a book.
"what are you thinking about, darling?"
another weary sigh escapes you.
"its just... you've been so stressed lately, i just wish i could alleviate some of the burdens you carry.. i know what you do is important, but i still wish i could be around you more often and help you.. y'know?" you let out another sigh. "i just.. miss you sometimes. and i worry. you know i worry.." Viktor chuckles at your words before turning you around to face him, the warm water around you both sloshing gently against the edge of the bath.
"you do more than enough already. believe me, everything i do, i do for you. for us. i love you," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to your forehead, "and nothing will change that. i can't guarantee that i'll always be around... but i will try to stop staying in the lab so late." Viktor's lips crinkle into a soft smile, and you can't help but kiss him in response.
Viktor always feels as though he's floating when you kiss. your soft lips against his, the contrast of his nimble, calloused hands against your smooth skin, your scent, your taste, it was all gloriously intoxicating. you hum against his lips before slowly pulling away, lashes fluttering against his cheek from your proximity.
Viktor leans in to whisper in your ear, his lips just ghosting your temple.
"i think it's high time we went to bed, dear. the waters getting cold, and i wouldn't want my beautiful darling to be exhausted tomorrow, hm?" you sigh at his flattery, yet agree regardless. as Viktor leans against the tub to stand up, you suddenly remember something and grab his hand to get his attention.
"hm?"
"by the way, about what you said earlier.... i love you more."
"that is not possible, my dearest."
GRRR SO HAPPY THIS IS DONE LMAO- sorry i havent been super active ive been on a huge DC kick (specifically the batfam/dick grayson) and suffering from writers block BUT HERE I AM AGAIN!!!!!!!!! ANYWAYS HOPE U ENJOYEDDDD PLS FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS (esp dc... HEHE)
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goomyloid · 1 month ago
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(original au post was getting kind of long... so time for a new one)
something happy for a change? kanako, stuck in her timeloop still, suddenly arrives upon a happier ending, in which clover decides to stay in the underground.
(more info below as always)
~ Sunshine Ending (Sunflower)
after the horrifying events of the previous ending (in which the ketsukane estate burns down with the two inside of it), kanako wakes up once more the very moment she died in that house.
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isn't this becoming too much...? how long can she go on like this? the one time she tried to use force to make clover stay, it ended in disaster. she didn't want this.
that is, of course, until ceroba finally steps in. she finds her daughter like this and realizes that something is definitely going on. she puts away her lab coat, casting her research aside for the moment. some things are more important; she can't believe she let herself forget that. kanako needs her.
so, they start going outside and into town together. starlo and his crew are delighted to see ceroba out and about for once... she'd really become more of a hermit these past few years.
for once, kanako isn't alone. so when she spots a particular bluebird accompanying a human in Oasis Valley, she thinks that this could actually be her chance. things are different, now...
and things do play out differently. or, maybe more familiarly...? starlo sees a trusty sharpshooter deputy in clover and takes them in for training. ceroba is able to start off on the right foot with clover as well, being able to see them more as a person than an opportunity for research.
but maybe most importantly, kanako gets the chance to grow close to clover more naturally, as true friends. there's no rush or desperate force like before; for once, it seems like clover actually wants to stay.
with all of them together, kanako realizes why.
ah... i think i understand now. having one friend is good, but that's not really what you wanted, was it?
you... wanted a family, right? support, and company... more than just me alone.
it feels like there should be a sting there -- kanako not being "enough" to get clover to stay -- but strangely, it really doesn't hurt. seeing clover happy, having fun, making friends...
after last time, this feels like all she could have ever asked for.
the two become like siblings. (where have I heard this before?) they get into Shenanigans and all that fun stuff. the ketsukane estate is admittedly far nicer than the breaking house starlo and co. stay in, so clover begins to share kanako's room. every night is like a sleepover...!
they have fun, lots of fun together. ceroba hushes them, urging them to sleep in the early hours of the morning after they stayed up so late talking and giggling. kanako never has to eat another meal alone. clover is surprisingly good at mew mew love blaster. every day is so fun and exciting. this is what she had dreamed of for so long now -- the things she wanted all those previous times. she really just needed a little help to make it actually happen.
she's so happy. everything is perfect. she's satisfied, finally.
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so...
so then, why...
why, after so long,
does she wake up again in an empty bedroom, back where she started?
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peachiejeongin · 1 month ago
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Asleep and Adored | Bang Chan
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synopsis: a short sleepy drabble about bang chan when he gets tired
pairing: bang chan x reader
genre: pure fluff!
warnings: lowercase letters intended, no warnings!
notice: hello my loves! i wrote this sleepy chan drabble back many months ago; considering i may or may not have posted part 6 to the phantoms a bit early, enjoy this filler fiction :)
whenever bang chan was sleepy, he got clingy. that was a given as he was physically unable to fall asleep without you by his side. it would start with gentle taps on your arm or thigh, progress into frequent hugging, and by the end of the night, chan would be laid in between your legs or vice versa holding you like a life-sized teddy bear.
however, tonight seemed different.
chan had been in the studio tonight for only heaven knows how long. he had been producing, writing, you name it. you were not sure as to why; after all, stray kids had just wrapped up dominate promotions, and there were no planned song collaborations scheduled to your knowledge.
you knew he was getting tired. his eyes were drooping as he attempted to stay focused on the, unnecessary, task at hand.
“love, why don’t we head home? it’s nearly one,” you stated softly. chan drowsily checked his phone clock, shaking his head in response. “mm-mm. gotta,” he paused to yawn, “get this done.”
“what even does ‘this’ entail?” you asked both in curiosity and frustration. chan shrugged his shoulders, quickly returning them to their slumped position.
“just a side project. i got bored, y’know?” a few mouse clicks sounded, as well as a few ‘mms’ and ‘i need to adds’ from your boyfriend.
“if it’s just a side project, can’t it wait?” you sounded desperate, but you could not care less. you were desperate. desperate for your insomniac boyfriend to lay down and get even a few brief moments of sleep.
“it can, but i don’t see the point in postponing it any longer.” he went back to adjusting sounds and adding beats, clicking notes and corresponding vocals, and auto tuning voices and repositioning lyrics. you had had enough.
absent-mindedly, you stood up suddenly, reached over your boyfriend’s left shoulder, and pushed his lap top closed gently.
“baby, no!” he almost instantaneously yelped, attempting to reopen his laptop; however, your hand sat firmly in place on the technological device.
“ah, ah, ah,” you said softly. “rest. you can finish tomorrow.” chan sighed both in annoyance and defeat.
“fine.” chan made a swift reach for his keys, yet once again you stopped him.
“i don’t think either of us should be driving this late. maybe we could…” your eyes darted over to the smooth, black leather couch positioned near perfect in the center of the room. chan nodded slightly, another soft yawn eliciting from his pouty lips.
you lied down on the makeshift bed for tonight, spreading your legs slightly in invitation for chan. he quickly obliged, crawling in between them and laying his head down on your chest whilst simultaneously wrapping his arms around you.
you stroked his hair gently, and before you knew it, the adorable boy was nearly half asleep. yet, something in him seemed to be keeping him awake.
“got something on your mind, hon?”
“mm, just, thanks for caring about me. if it wasn’t for you, i’d never get any sleep.” a chuckled vibrated in your chest.
“any time, baby.” the soft thump of your heartbeat lulled chan to sleep before you knew it, and the sight of the sleepy boy in front of you sent you to dreamland soon after.
in different manners, both of you dreamed of how you got so lucky.
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rillian4e · 1 year ago
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{Missing you}
ft& Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Scaramouche
a/n: been so looong since my last post, I'm overwhelmed with exams and having to study😭🫠 trying to become more active as best as I can, so here's a little scenarios of various genshin men missing you and your body.
summary: your lover has been awfully busy these past weeks and you as well which resulted in you two rarely seeing the other, much less spending time with one another. it's late and your boyfriend finds himself desperate for you but you aren't there to help him.
sw: nsfw, fem!reader, afab, jerking off, humping for alhaitham, needy men, a little bit of size kink for wrio's part, slight pet names, lowercase writing etc.
neuvillette who finds himself buried in paperwork in his office inside the palais mermonia but he still cannot get his mind off you, how he wished he had you here with him, cockwarming him on his lap while he worked—simply imagining it makes his pants feel tight, he misses having your warm folds around his shaft, the way you'd always let out the prettiest sounds when he even slightly touched you or raised his hips... he doesn't even realize that he has long forgotten his work, his hand around his cock, spreading the pre over his length as he gave a few pumps making him groan. "hnngh...so hard and you're not here to help me, I am acting in such a vulgar way, it's embarrassing yet...yet I can't get you out of my mind..." he mumbled to himself, fantasizing that it was your lips wrapped around him, sucking him in while playing with his balls while he only fucked himself deeper in your throat, when he came, he opened his eyes to see his hand coated with his cum, "...ah, what a mess, if only you were here to clean it up." finally returning to his senses after he relieved himself, he heard a knock on the door, "monsiuer neuvillette, is everything alright?" he was caught off guard by the question of the melusine behind the door, quickly he composed himself, hoping no one would come in and see him in such an embarrassing situation. "yes, of course. there is nothing to worry about, everything is alright." now he knew he needed to take a break and have you on his lap for real, not just fantasizing about it.
—★°•☆
being the duke meant wriothesley had a lot of responsibilities and he always fulfilled them accordingly but sometimes he was tired of it, spending so many nights here without seeing his pretty angel was unbearable. he missed having you in his arms, your small body pressed against his much bigger one—not to mention having you bent over his desk while he fucked you from behind, squeezing your tits while he rubbed tight circles on your swollen clit. the way you'd always tremble and cry tears of pleasure at him being so big and mean...archons, his cock is already rock hard at the thought of having your little pussy around his length. he is quick to free his cock from his pants, teasing the slit and stroking himself as he imagined everything he'd to you when he and you finally met again. "f-fuck...gonna breed you s' much when i see you...fuck you till you can't think about anything except this dick." he growled as he looked down at his erection, letting out a groan as he reached his climax.
—☆°○★
the ever so stoic and composed alhaitham never thought he'd feel this way, he wasn't the type to be affected by such things yet he couldn't seem to stop finding himself drift his thoughts onto you, he's preoccupied with a big project and the akademiya has only gotten more hectic, so his work hours have increased which is why you two didn't have any time together. when he came home, he felt exhausted but he was so sexually pent up and his cock was already dripping pre-cum. he tried ignoring it but couldn't, so he caved in—calculative as usual, alhaitham knew you had left a pair of panties at his place, it was bad habit of yours to leave your belongings at his house, he'd surely scold you before but now he was glad that you were so careless. sitting himself down he wrapped your panties around his cock, thinking of you and getting off on your smell. the panties did little to soothe his ache for your warm cunt but he'd have to do with what he had. "miss you...miss you so much...wish it was your pussy instead of your panties," he let out little pants alongside groans, his breathing heavy and warm as he came on your underwear.
—★•°☆
who would have thought that the former sixth of the fatui harbingers, the ever so arrogant and prideful, scaramouche, would have such vulgar lewd and dirty fantasies of you, his lover while you're away in another nation. he certainly would never tell you how badly he wants you when you're away, he thinks it's humiliating but doesn't care when he knows you probably feel the same way, when you get back, he will make up for having you not be there for him to fuck and ravage as his possession. his cock hardens at the thought of having you submit to him, cry and lay there helpless as you take what he gives you. even as he pumped his hard erection, his focus went over to you—how would you react if you were here? would you get aroused to see him jerking off so shamelessly? "s-shit...shit, close," he let out a needy whine as his cum spurted out, scaramouche felt better but it wasn't nowhere near as enough, "haa...if only you were here, my pretty and obedient slut..." he sighed as he closed his eyes, thinking of you and when you will be back, hopefully soon because he cannot handle not having you there to relieve his needs.
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whaddayadothatfor · 2 years ago
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Ctenizidae
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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader
Summary: You’re an anomaly from another universe. You’re not dangerous though, so Miguel’s made the executive decision to keep you around until more dangerous criminals are caught and sent home first. Unless that’s not the only reason he’s decided to keep you around…
Content warnings: dub-con, voyeurism, masturbation, obsessive!Miguel
WC: ~1k
AN: Y’all this is so unedited but I wanted to write smut for this man so I did! If y’all like it I can post a second, smuttier part.
MDNI
“Here.” You drop a small plastic bin of chocolate chip cookies in front of Miguel. As a peace offering. No, really.
Miguel raises his right eyebrow in question. He doesn’t even answer you anymore. The other Spider-people go about their day in the cafeteria, having seen this scene time and time again.
Every day for the past two weeks since you were suddenly teleported to Nueva York and promptly labeled an anomaly, you’ve been practically begging Miguel to send you home. He’s declined every time.
This is pretty much how the conversation goes each time:
“Miguel, I think I should—“
“No. We have to send the most dangerous anomalies back to their universe first—“
“I’m dangerous! I’m plenty dangerous.”
“The only thing you’ve maimed, tortured, and killed in the past month is a flippin’ houseplant. You’re staying.”
You see how frustrating this man is?
So you’ve decided that maybe bribery— sorry, a peace offering— will work better. Hence, the cookies.
“Maybe if you eat something sweet you’ll stop being so bitter and stubborn all the time,” you smile tightly. “Then you’ll find it in your heart— the one that shrunk three sizes— to let me go home.”
“I appreciate the offering— though you could use some more creativity in your approach— but just know that these won’t get you home.” He pries open the container and lifts one to his mouth before moaning in delight. “These are delicious. Thank you,” he said, sucking the melted chocolate off of his thumb. His overly enthusiastic groans were clearly a tactic to piss you off, and it worked.
You simmer in anger as he smirks while chewing his cookie. You try to snatch the bin back, but he moves it out of your way.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, pushing up from the small table he was sitting at and leaning down to whisper near your ear. “No take-backsies.”
He flustered you, and he knew it. He laughed as he walked away. You stuttered a retort in embarrassment, but he didn’t even have the decency to turn around.
“Ugh, I hate that guy,” you stomped in anger. You muttered several curses before you turned around to leave, only to see several wide-eyed Spideys staring at you in concern. This is why you wait until after you’re alone to throw a tantrum— it scares the locals. Whoops. “Uhh, carry on. My bad. Enjoy your lunch!”
You quickly walk away, feeling defeated. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve got nothing but time. You’ll catch him when he’s sleeping. He’s gotta be more amenable then.
Later
“You know, just for the record, I think you going to his room this late at night is a terrible idea,” Lyla warned as she flitted between standing and reclining with her arms crossed behind her neck.
“Well I think him keeping me here is a terrible idea. I guess we’re all full of them.”
“Seriously—“
“Lyla I don’t care! I’ve got a family to get back to. Friends, a life. I don’t care how fine that man is, I’m going back home. Tonight, preferably.”
“Whatever, it’s your funeral.” She acquiesced before disappearing into the ether, just as you arrived at his door.
“Wait, Lyla! Open the door.” Without a response, the door opened. “Thanks, Lyla.”
You walked in to the large room to see Miguel sitting up in a chair near the center of the room.
“Miguel, you need to listen to me—“
The sight that met you was so shocking you had to take it in one part at a time.
First, You see Miguel’s side profile as he faces the wall to the left of you. He’s breathing heavy, chest heaving as his hand vigorously moves up and down his— oh. Maybe you came at the wrong time.
With the sudden awkwardness that’s overtaken you, you look somewhere else, anywhere else, only to find the source of what he’s staring at— a video, no, porn. The second piece of the puzzle, you take in the video’s content. First, you just see flashes of skin and hear soft grunts and moans emanating from the screen. But then you realize, the voices sound familiar, really familiar. Then it hits you.
It is you.
And him. The both of you together. And that realization connects all the pieces of the puzzle together. He’s keeping you here, on purpose.
Your eyes dart back to Miguel, who has now abandoned his video in favor of the live view he has right in front of him. He’s shirtless but he still has some grey sweats on, pushed down just enough that he can jerk off. His hands move desperately over his cock, aborted grunts and breathy moans coming out sporadically.
He turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed with desire. You were frozen, stuck in time. Miguel kept stroking his cock while staring into your eyes. He did this right up until his orgasm overtook him, throwing his head back and jerking his hips upward as he called out your name.
His cum spurted out in waves, once, twice, three times. It was thick and opaque and made a mess all over his lower stomach. He sighed and sank back into his chair.
“Did you enjoy the show?” His voice is low and heady as he calls out to you. It takes you a moment to respond, because admittedly you’re still staring at his— well, his everything, dick included. Still It was a very, very nice, thick, veiny d—“Am I interrupting?”
His teasing knocks you out of your reverie.
“I-I should go.” You said. You’re starting to realize that Lyla might have been right. Maybe you should’ve waited until the morning. You start backing up to leave but Miguel shakes his head and the door shuts behind him.
“No, no, no. See, that’s your problem. You’re always trying to leave,” he chastises.
He stalks towards you, like you’re prey. You move backwards until your back hits the door. He reaches over you, placing an arm over your head and his index finger under your chin, lifting it upwards. He bends down, close enough that you can see even minute details of his face.
He narrows his eyes as he bares his fangs.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
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mondaymelon · 1 year ago
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first time in this account lol Idk if you're taking requests but I saw that post some minutes ago and... Idk, wanted to request something lol, if you didn't do it yet! What about headcanons with a reader who doesn't show physical attention until some years of knowing them? Like, they know each other for about 5 years and just then the reader decides to do some small act of physical affection... I wanted the headcanons to be with Childe, Arlecchino, Wanderer and Furina! If you can <3
₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔… | childe, wanderer, arlecchino, furina x gn!reader
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( childe's part might be a little ooc. havent done that part of the archon quest yet cries. also mwah arlecchino we love her in this household !! )
[ You were always someone who wasn’t fond of physical attention. Fleeting touches and kisses to the cheeks were never your forte, yet what should happen if the lover you’ve had for years is suddenly on the receiving end of such affections? ]
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"physical affection... ah- it's okay if you can't show that to me, there's plenty of other ways to tell that you love me!"
CHILDE was the one to say those words to you, and the held the most certain truth. You were his lover, and a hug or two couldn't sway the fact! While the harbinger is quite the puppy and often yearns for your warmth, he'll respect your boundaries and allow you whatever. A lover like Childe places your happiness as a priority over his, wanting more to see your eyes sparkle than his own.
"Love, you wouldn't believe what happened in the courthouse today." You glance up from your spot where you're curled up on the couch, snuggled into a fluffy blanket and holding a warm drink in your hands, one of Inazuma's light novels sitting on the armrest. You hear the door to the two of you's home shut and lock, and listen to... Childe's footsteps. How strange, is he stumbling?
Glancing up, you internally gape at the cuts on his body, your eyes instantly drawn at the red splattered across his features. "'Taglia, what hap-"
He lets out a dry chuckle, grinning sheepishly as he rids his shoes at the door. "No worries, the blood isn't mine. Most of it, at least. I managed to get out of there in time, so all's well, yeah?"
As if that'd provide you any comfort. You narrow your eyes, glaring at him unyieldingly, until Childe has no choice but to force out another tasteless chuckle. "Come on now, I'm home, so let's do something fun instead of just being mad at me, 'kay?"
"Tartaglia."
The man flinches, his deep ocean eyes rounding. When you call him that and not his nickname, he knew that he had landed himself in deep shit. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He says that, but the sentence rounds up in a change of his tone, sounding almost suspiciously like a question. "It won't happen aga-"
The world itself seems to stop.
Your head is buried into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Archons, can you hear how fast his heart is beating? You've made him into a complete and utter mess. He's blushing, his ears practically on fire, and any thoughts once in his brain have been seared away in single second. It takes him to the count of three to remember how to breathe once more, his chest erratically heaving up and down as his shaking arms wrap around you hesitantly, wondering if it'd be okay to do so.
"...Love?"
"Mhm?"
"I- I thought you-"
"If it's with you, I'm okay."
Oh, how those words tug at his heart. You look so perfect in his arms - yes, you looked simply perfect all the time, he'd admit in a split-second. The messy nest of hair atop your head when you woke up in the early mornings, the dark bags under your eyes when you didn't sleep until late at night, your smile, your laugh, even your scowl. It silenced any effort to not fall in love with you.
A smile tugs at his lips. A bright one, a warm one, if that was even possible. Perhaps his eyes are shining with tears, or perhaps it was merely a trick of light, but he holds you all the closer, not wanting to let you go.
"Love, I... Archons, I don't think I'd be able to love anyone but you." ₊˚ෆ
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"..great. i don't want your filthy hands on me anyways, so there shouldn't be a problem, hm?"
WANDERER's words were just that, would it kill him to be a little nicer? It didn't matter... you knew your lover well, or at least well enough to tell that what he said wasn't the complete truth.
Sure, you had seen him shrug off and make expressions of disgust directed towards particularly touchy people that he'd become somewhat acquainted with. And you most certainly had witnessed his frustrated outbursts and rants when he returned home to your shared abode, whining and grumbling about any trivial error someone had made - that is, brushing fingers with him while passing him papers. Something that couldn't exactly be avoided, yet he had glared at the wall for a good amount all the same.
Ah, but then there were moments when he thought you weren't looking, and that was when his eyes would drink you in. Grazing over your eyes, to your lips, then to your hands, where'd they linger on your fingers for perhaps longer than they should.
And you'd catch the times where you were inclined to say something flirtatious - words that were never all that flirtatious in the first place, Wanderer just happened to be unusually susceptible. Chin resting on your hand, eyes staring into his, you'd say something about how pretty he was, and then he'd just about go into neurogenic shock, likely not speaking to you the rest of the day, the tips of his ears, if one squinted to a certain extent, pink.
"Love." You glance up at him, a slight pout fixed on your lips. He'd been immersed in minor tasks, and those pesky things were what stole his attention away from you. An ironic twist of fate, as you were usually the one to be drowning in work, and he'd be the one practically begging for affection.
He hums, yet doesn't even bother to look at you.
"Do you want to go for a walk?"
"No."
"Go get something to eat?"
"No."
"Visit the... House of Daena?"
"No."
"Shall we feed the finches?"
A slight pause. "...No."
"Then... let's hold hands?"
He froze at your words, and it seemed that the male lost the function of inhaling, for he sat there unmoving for what seemed like hours, his expression petrified in its form of his large eyes, raised eyebrows, and mouth slightly ajar.
"...Excuse me?" It seemed that he doubted his own ears, for he set his work aside and fixed his focus upon you, fingers trembling just the slightest.
"Hmph, have you suddenly forgotten how to think?" You frowned, yet your eyes curved into crescents all the same, and Wanderer felt his breath hitch at how ethereal you were. The sly fox you were, you took his moment of shock, settling by his side and intertwining your fingers with his. "Like this, is it not?" You were smiling now, and for the first time you glimpsed the red on his ears, but now on his face too, a rosy red descending upon his cheeks.
"What's..." Perhaps you were right. His vocabulary had suddenly dwindled, and now he had nothing but questions - that, and the growing warmth in his chest. "What do you think you're doing right now?"
Whatever attempt he had to sound "mean" had failed. You knew him too well for that. "Holding hands, what else? Your hands are cold you know-" And at that he flinched. "But it feels nice."
D...Did it really?
"You, no... love, let's stay like this. You're... warm." ₊˚ෆ
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"when you sought me, i thought it'd be a serious matter. there's no trouble in it, truly, so there's no need to look so dejected."
ARLECCHINO hadn't even batted an eye. Was there a reason to? Yes, this certainly crossed off any thought of romantic couple things like kissing and hand holding, but it wasn't like she'd gasp dramatically and fall to the ground, blaming you for setting boundaries-
As if she'd ever. Your imagination was running wild today, perhaps it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you? It was a stark contrast compared to Arlecchino, who went days without rest, shuffling through paper after paper on her desk and constantly relaying messages to her subordinates. She was a hard worker - a trait most easily overlooked, but it was a point of adoration for you. A point among many. Arlecchino was an easy person to love, despite the bristling thorns she'd show at first glance.
"Darling, a cup of tea, please?" Her gaze flicked up from her work to you, a thin smile decorating her lips. It was more a less a habit the two of you established - that is, pouring her tea. Her favorite cup was the one you had gifted her when you first started your relationship, shaded in a dark hue and embellished with roses, their blooms, petals, and thorny branches spreading across the expanse of porcelain. You placed said cup on her desk with a breath of satisfaction, tilting you head in questioning at the unusual amount of papers on her desk.
"Arle, did something happen?"
She merely chuckled to herself, her eyes shining with delight. "Ah, why don't you wager a guess?" You were her "subordinate" of sorts, although your true association was far more intimate. You knew of her plans with Fontaine, and helped carry them out. She revered your loyalty, but your warmth far more.
"...Has the hydro gnosis been secured?"
She snapped her fingers in one swift motion, her small smile widening into a true one that played across her ruby lips. "Correct, I'd expect nothing less of someone as capable as my lover."
"Then, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet..."
"They've done well." It'd be hard to forsake the note of pride in her voice. Setting down the sheets in her gloved hands, she stood from her seat slowly, letting her eyes scan over your body. "You've asked your question, now shall I ask mine? Darling, I did quite well myself, did I not?"
Her expectant gaze read one thing, but instead of the usual quality time spending the two of you'd share, this time, you had rather differing plans. Smiling, you walked up to her, not letting the way her eyes sparkled just the slightest escape your sight. Promptly, sneakily, you flung yourself upon her, beaming as your hands found refuge winding about her torso, nearly instantly trapping her into your death hug. "You did, Arle~!"
"..." At her silence, you glanced up, only to be met with a sight that drew blush upon your own cheeks. Her usually composed, mystery-shroud features were now conflicted with crossing emotions... of what, however, was rather indecipherable. Arlecchino was a person of many masks, yet now it seemed that her "mask" displayed but one thing - love.
"Darling, I... you look perfect in my arms, so shall we stay like this a moment longer?" ₊˚ෆ
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"is that so? a trivial matter, is it by law that i must hold you in my arms in order to prove my love for you?"
FURINA's multicolored irises and teardrop pupils twinkled, their shine dancing on the moonlit breeze. A hand daintily held a teacup, its fragrant contents swirling about the porcelain basin. Her laugh accompanied the cool evening wind, and she fluttered her eyes shut in a smile that brightened her expression. "Come now, why so shocked? Wouldn't this be expected from someone as benevolent as I?"
It was a scene that would remain forever painted in your mind, like a beautiful mural that one's eyes could not possibly forsake. The way her mouth tugged upwards and the manner in which her eyes curv-
"Hey, are you even listening to me right now?" A familiar voice tugged you out of your reminiscence of the confrontation months prior. Furina displayed a childish frown on her lips, her partly furrowed eyes sharpening her gaze into a rather particular one.
Oh, lost in thought once more. You let out a soft sigh, nodding sheepishly. "Yes, love, I am.."
"Mhm..." Your words left a no, you clearly aren't!" Furina sat up, her intensifying discontentment apparent on her features. "I said I got you access to front ticket seats to the hottest new court case! You know, the one involving the robbery... the one that's quite literally got the entire Steambird in a chokehold? Yet, you're not excited in the slightest!?" She sounded offended, and she likely was, for her cheeks were flushed the slightest in rash frustration and her narrowed eyes creased at their corners. "Appreciate my efforts, why don't you?"
"Appreciate" indeed.
Ah, but was a sudden, tight embrace overshooting it? For she tensed in your arms, her frame absolutely suspended in your hold, her slack jaw giving the slightest tremor. "Mon amour, just w-what are you-?"
"Come now, Furina, am I not permitted to hug my own lover now?" The jesting in your voice faded as the sarcastic grin on your face formed a smaller, more genuine one. "I'm... ah, I'm okay, if it's with you. I'll be okay."
She paused at your words, contemplation of them flashing in her gaze, and let out a gratified exhale. "Then..." she nearly melted in your embrace, leaning her head into your arms compliantly.
"Don't you dare think I've forgotten about your previous transgression, but... ah, it can be forgiven, can't it, mon amour?" ₊˚ෆ
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(a/n) hc hc hc hc furina calls youfrench petnames because french oui oui baguette.. AHEM my sincerest apologies to any french or french speakers...
REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! please consider following me as i amm soosososoo close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be crazy if i could reach it before christmas!!!
໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader
-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶
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yuikomorii · 8 days ago
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AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 1
// I present to you… MY FIRST EVER FANFIC! It’s inspired by these headcanons and these posts. As mentioned before, in this story, the Sakamakis are simply regular idols with a vampire-themed concept; they’re not actually vampires or related. Since I noticed how much you all enjoy this kind of content and have been so supportive, I thought you might like a fanfic based on it. ☺️
I’m by no means a professional writer, and my style leans more towards the visual novel/otome game format. Even so, I hope you’ll like it! 💕
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Voice announcement: Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at our destination.
Before you disembark, please take a moment to ensure you have all your personal belongings with you. For your safety, mind the gap between the train and the platform edge as you exit.
We sincerely thank you for choosing our services and travelling with us. It has been our pleasure to serve you, and we hope to welcome you aboard again soon. Take care!
Yui: ( Eh? Is this…—! )
— eyes widen —
I’m here… I’m finally here!
Yui’s Monologue
I can’t believe my dream is actually coming true! All this time, this seemed like a childish wish but right now I truly am in Tokyo…!
Uuh… I’m getting a bit emotional, but can you blame me? It simply feels… surreal.
I never thought my father would agree to let me join a work exchange program in such a massive and dynamic city.
To be honest, I was half expecting him to say no, but it seems he believes in me more than I thought.
Knowing that he trusts me this much… it really makes me want to work even harder to prove he made the right choice.
Yes, that’s so. I will try my best to make father proud!
— takes big breath —
Yui: Nice to meet you, Tokyo. Let’s make this journey one to remember.
Place: Studio
Photographer: And~… pose! Ah yes, exactly like that! Keep on, keep on!
Ayato: ( Man, this shit is so tiring at this point. )
— smiles falsely —
Photographer: W-Wonderful…! Another one, thank you!
— keeps taking pictures —
Ayato: ( Can this woman stop blinding me with that flashlight already? It’s past 11 pm… )
Photographer: Now, a profile sho——
Manager: Hold on.
Pardon my intrusion, but I believe we already have enough pictures for today. Don't you think so?
Photographer: Eh? But we just got star— Oh my, it’s almost 12 am!?
G-Geez, my apologies. I guess the saying “time flies when you’re having fun” must really apply here.
— winks at Ayato —
Ayato: ( Gross! )
Manager: If more promotional pictures are required, we can extend the photoshoot to tomorrow. Watanabe-san, would it be possible for you to arrive earlier if that is the case?
Photographer: With such eye candy around, who could resist spending more time with him~?
Fufu, just kidding. I'll contact the director and get back to you with an answer as soon as possible.
Until then, have a good night! Bye-bye~!
— leaves —
Ayato: Haa… thanks goodness! One more photo, and I might’ve completely lost it.
Manager: I understand completely. Given your schedule, it’s clear you’re quite overworked. Nevertheless, it’s impressive how you still manage to perform so well.
Ayato: Heh… thanks.
— rubs eyes —
Manager: You look a bit tired, Ayato-san. Rest assured, the limousine should be arriving soon.
Ayato: Right, the limo is on its——
( Fuck! I can’t believe I almost forgot about it! )
Wait! Now that I think about it, I’ve got something else to take care of.
So… don’t mind me! Go ahead and take the limo; I’ll call for another one later.
Manager: Haa… Ayato-san.
You're not planning to do something that could get you into trouble, are you?
Ayato: O-Of course not! It’s just… no, it’s nothing important. Just a silly little thing I remembered I had to solve.
— tries to leave —
Manager: Ayato-san!
Ayato: Huh?
Manager: Do NOT let anyone see you, understood?
— Ayato nods and leaves —
???: You’re late.
Ayato: …!
Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!
Laito: My bad~. You came prepared at least, didn’t you?
Ayato: Yeah, yeah.
— puts cap and mask on —
Laito: Nfu, let’s go, shall we?
Place: Street
Yui: Uuh… come on! Why is no taxi in sight?
( It’s been two hours and I still couldn’t find my way to the Airbnb. )
( I knew Tokyo was huge, but I wasn’t expecting the transportation system to be this complicated… )
— looks at sky —
( It’s already late, huh? )
( I wonder if it’s safe for a girl to roam on these streets at this hour. Well, at least I hope it is, otherwise… )
Place: Private Night Club
Laito: Two Cosmopolitans. One for me, and one for that very fine lady over there, nfu.
Ayato: Another glass of Tequila.
Laito: Heh, another one? Is this the fifth by chance?
Ayato: I had a busy week, okay?
Laito: Ah, of course you did. After all, our Ayato-kun is the IT boy of this generation. Always swamped with brand deals, while the rest of us barely get a crumb~.
Ayato: …Not funny.
Laito: C’mon, don’t take it too seriously.
— pats his back —
I doubt any of us could care less about brand deals anyway. The idol job already pays well enough, and with barely any time for ourselves, why would we want to give up even more of our freedom?
Ayato: ( It’s not like it’s my choice though. )
Well, I can’t deny that the love I get is cool and all, but sometimes… hmm, how do I put it? It feels like people only like me because I’m an idol, y’know?
Laito: That’s to be expected, isn’t it? Fans often form a one-sided connection with idols simply because we’re constantly visible and accessible through the media, without really knowing who we are or what we’re capable of.
On top of that, you’re the visual, the face everyone admires. Who wouldn’t be drawn to someone who's not only stunning but also famous? It’s like the perfect package for embodying every girl’s fantasy.
Ayato’s monologue
Laito… he always knows what to say.
Seriously, this guy is so aware of everything around him to the point that it’s becoming unsettling.
And the worst part? He’s not just talking—he’s right, which is why it almost hurts to hear it.
At the end of the day, we idols are just puppets, carefully crafted to feed into the fans’ delusions. They don’t see us for who we truly are, but rather as a fantasy they can cling to.
And we, caught in the spotlight, are forced to live out that role.
Before becoming an idol, I was surrounded by people who kept me around because of my looks. At first, the amount of attention felt good, but as I mature, I realize just how hollow that really is.
I can’t help but wonder… if it weren’t for my appearance or status, would anyone actually treat me nicely? Would anyone be willing to accept me, flaws and all?
Heh… now I just sound stupid. As long as I’m an idol, I doubt I’ll get my answer anytime soon.
Waitress: Here we go, gentlemen. The Cosmopolitan and the Tequila.
Laito: Hello, earth to Ayato-kun, are you still in there?
— waves in front of his eyes —
Ayato: Yeah, yeah. I was just spacing out a bit.
Laito: Nfu, cheers.
Ayato: Cheers.
— they start drinking —
Ayato: Ngh…!
( My chest… it started aching! )
Laito: Hm, you good?
Ayato: Y-Yeah… I just— Ngh!
( It’s getting worse! )
I need some fresh air, that’s all.
— quickly puts on mask and cap —
I’ll be right back.
— quickly goes outside —
( Haa… Haa… what is happening…!? )
Agh… fuck!
( It hurts…! Could this be…—— )
— eyes widen —
( No… No, don’t tell me this is a real heart attack! )
Hnn… Ngh!
( What… what should I do now!? )
???: Quick! Please, drink this!!
— hands him water —
Ayato: Huh…?
— takes it and starts drinking —
???: A-Are you feeling better? I got another bottle in case you need it too.
Ayato: Haa… Haa… It’s okay now, all good.
???: Are you sure…? You really seemed in a lot of pain.
Ayato: Yeah… no worries.
( This girl… she just saved my life, didn’t she? )
By the way, uhm… thanks for that.
???: A-Ah, it’s nothing, really.
As far as I recall from my father, drinking water after alcohol can help reduce chest pain and lessen the severity of a hangover. I’m glad to see that it actually works.
Ayato: Heck yeah, I’m glad to see that it worked too, otherwise who knows how I would have ended up.
— the girl giggles —
???: You should be more careful though. Drinking too much alcohol can be very dangerous.
Ayato: ( Okay, mom. )
Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m not usually like that.
Moreover… why exactly did you help me?
???: Eh? What do you mean?
Ayato: ( Could it be that she actually recognized me? )
( My face is practically hidden behind the mask and cap, and we’re in the dark, so there’s no way she could have, right? But if she did… )
???: Uuh… I suppose it was out of pure instinct.
Ayato: Instinct, huh?
???: Yup. You see, I heard you struggling, so there was no way I could brush that off.
Ayato: Hmm… But wait a minute, what were you doing all alone at this hour?
( What if she’s a stalker then? )
???: Ah… uhm… T-That’s a bit embarrassing to say out loud.
Ayato: Oh, come on, you straight up saw me about to drop dead from drinking Tequila. There’s no way this could be more embarrassing than that.
???: Actually… today’s my first day in Tokyo, and I’ve been struggling for almost 3 hours just trying to get to my Airbnb.
I tried taking the subway, but there were way too many lines, and I got lost at some point.
As for taxis, every time I tried to flag one down, the driver just ignored me.
Ayato: ( Nevermind, I’m taking it back. This might truly be more embarrassing. )
Pfft, why didn’t you call for a cab then?
???: I couldn’t find any reliable number…
Ayato: Hmm… Alright then.
I just arranged one for you. You’ll just have to tell them your location and wait for them to get you there. There’s also no need for you to pay.
— lends her money —
???: E-Eh!? Thank you… thank you so much! But I’m sorry, I just can’t accept the money!
Ayato: Nah, it’s fine, seriously. After all, you’re the one who helped me first.
Just promise me you won’t tell anyone about what happened today. Understood?
— the girl nods —
Ayato: Heh, great. Well, I guess it was nice to meet you. Now it’s time for me to return.
???: W-Wait! I forgot to catch your name!
Ayato: …!
( So she really doesn’t know me? )
It’s——
( No… it’s too risky. )
Oh look, the cab arrived! You should hurry up!
???: But—
( He left…? )
Yui’s monologue
As the taxi started moving, I found myself looking back, almost subconsciously, hoping to catch one last glimpse of that boy.
Today had been exhausting, but despite the strange circumstances in which we met, those brief minutes spent with him were oddly comforting.
I wonder who he is and what his life is like. It feels a bit silly, I know, to be thinking so much about someone whose name I don’t even know.
But there was something in his presence that made me feel in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
Whatever it was, it stuck with me, lingering in my thoughts even after we parted ways.
My journey has only just begun, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that meeting him was no coincidence.
I really hope I get the chance to cross paths with him again.
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heavensgxte · 2 years ago
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Besieged part II
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part one
tw - noncon, forced marriage, pregnancy mentions, breeding kink, blowjobs, naoya being naoya and being an asshole. naoyas shitty excuse of foreplay. not beta read
wc- 2.1k
by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume and read dark content.
a/n- hey…how y’all doin. don’t hate me for posting this over two years later lolol i honestly didn’t think i’d ever get back to this but. i have had been on a writing kick lately. i hope my skills haven’t completely disappeared. thank you for all the love for part one.
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You wake up the next morning, covered in dry cum. You feel its presence still very much so stuffed into your cunt. You also feel a warm body draped over yours, looking over at the table you do see a glass of water. You also feel a flaccid cock you must have been warming all night long.
Did he really fuck you until he passed out? You reason he probably did. You look towards the window to find the sun just beginning to rise, not being able to stop the few tears that escape your eyes, a true moment to yourself, sort of. For the last week, the weight of your situation settles, is this really how you’re going to spend the rest of your life?
Eventually, you reckon you had silently cried yourself back to sleep. It was the fact that when you had come to again, your now husband wasn't sprawled out on top of you. But a maid with a worried look on her face gently tapping you awake. Telling you it was time to change the bedding, her skittish voice starting to pull away the curtains of grogginess out of your system.
You make sure to give her a warm smile, nodding and giving a soft thank you. Making a mental note to treat the staff nicely, showing them you are nothing like that vile man you have been legally bound to.
The maid turns away to give you privacy as you move your sore body to plant your feet on the cold floor. Seeing a note laying on your bedside table, picking it up you read it over. “I will be attending my own duties until mid-day, don’t bother me, I shall come find you when I deem it is time. Don’t miss me too much <3” You scoff crumpling the note and tossing it where you found it.
Shivering you pull on the robe nearby, letting the soft fabric hug your frame, giving another smile to the maid, you make your way to the washroom and out of her way. You spot the shower and take a better look at the elegant room. The ofuro and shower separated, traditional yet modern touches adjourning the room. Both bathing options are definitely big enough for two, you mentally note that he had done that on purpose. Looking between the two options, a soak in the ofuro seemed more tempting, something to soothe your aching body from the rough treatment you had taken last night.
Taking a good look in the mirror as you begin to fill up the bath, your eyes widen at the state of your body. Darkened marks adorn your neck and chest, accompanied by bite and scratch marks decorating your thighs and waist. Is he even human? You surely don’t remember the sex being this animalistic, but your fucked out brain probably drifted off after your second or third orgasm you presume.
Hopefully he isn’t this insatiable every night. The thought sends shivers down your spine, keeping yourself distracted by adding salts and herbs you had found sitting out into the steaming water.
Carefully stepping in and letting the warmth consume you, you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting daydreams run through your weary head as you lean it against the edge of the appliance. Near dissociation when.
The brash opening of the door rips you out of your thoughts, you hear his footsteps before you see him round the corner quickly. Ripping you out of your dream-like state, sending your nervous system into fight or flight mode, a shrill gasp emitting from you.
“Ah ha there you are. I was wondering if you were going to wake up or not before the sun went down.” Naoya says as if it was a matter of fact. Cat like eyes trying to peer beneath. “I was looking all over for my little wife.” The man poses with a faux stretch. “I got done with my duties early, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of the evening playing with my new toy.” He begins to shed his daily attire.
Sighing, but not quite in defeat you close your eyes and begin to mutter “well excuse me for trying to take even a bath by my-”
Before you could even finish the sentence, you heard it before you felt it. A smack resounding in the room before your hand flies to your face to soothe the stinging pain. Shocked with wide eyes you avert your profile to him.
You are met with a stern look to his amber eyes, face unreadable. “I will tolerate little from you. I knew choosing you there would be some pushback, a stubborn woman such as yourself. However,  you are smart enough to know and follow expectations regarding being my wife. I do not tolerate back talk. The rumors surrounding my clan are indeed true. We expect traditional wives. You will be absolutely no different.”
Flabbergasted you cannot control your rising emotions as they burst through the seams. “Expectations?! Guidelines?! I didn’t even want this!” No, you will not cry. Not in front of him.
A strong hand grips your face, a force even pulling you from the ofuro. “This. Isn’t. About. You.” Venom laced in his words as he shook your head back and forth. “I don’t care what you want. Surprise wife! You are here for me and me alone. That is your purpose in your pathetic life. Serve me. Warm my bed. Be my personal fuckhole. And bare me an heir. Speaking of fuckholes….” Naoya mumbles. Fumbling around with the cloth on his body. Slipping all of it off, the light illuminating off of his body, accentuated by the steam.
You’d be lying to yourself as to say he did not have a nice body. He did, and a nice cock, 7 and a half inches or so with decent girth and a perfect curve. You would know, the entire night the damn thing was inside of you, you are now very much so used to it.
To add on to his earlier statement, you are being gripped by the nape of the neck, Naoya standing on the stool you use to step into the tub, but he’s not stepping on.
“Open that whore mouth my dear beloved.” How can someone’s words be so venomous yet patronizing?
Taking a moment to process you don’t even see his hand come down to pinch your left nipple, the gasp parting your lips is all he needs to shove it in between your parted lips. Going slow and taking your time is not your dear husband's forte, obviously. As he is instantly gripping the sides of your slippery cheeks and moving his hips to fuck his cock farther and farther down your throat. Your gags, and spluttering echo to and fro through the bathroom, along with the sound of his balls, slapping your chin, pulsing with the need for release.
Though the man above you is groaning, face scrunched up in concentration and pleasure. He protests a moment. “No, no no, fuck, no, need your cunt. Gimme…” Naoya begins to mumble, pulling you up by your arm from the ofuro. “Bend over the edge, yeah, yeah just like that.”
You know it’s futile to argue, and you can’t deny, that he does feel good, is that why your body is betraying you when you arch yourself over the edge of the bathroom appliance? Why you don’t kick and scream when you feel him spread your cheeks to get an adequate view of your cunt glistening with bath water, slightly covered in suds from your attempt of relaxation? Is it that deep down you know that submitting to him is your best option right now? Can you really do this for the rest of your life? In such a compromising position, your thoughts run wild.
All thoughts stop racing through your mind when you feel the head of his cock push in through your tight hole. Shaky trembling hands gripping your hips tightly. Naoya’s head is also whirring in pleasure, just like yours.
“Fuck fuck it’s just as tight as last night.” A sigh emits his mouth. As if his cock in your pussy could melt all his stresses and worries away. Fuck. Is all that he can formulate. Using his hands to bring you back and forth on his erection. A moan threatens to emit from your mouth before you cover it with your hand, no you cannot give him that satisfaction. Biting down on your hand for some semblance of control.
A semi cold hand finds its way to your warm slick breast, a hardy squeeze as he brings up his tempo. “Y-yeah” he groans. “Take it, like you’re meant to. All you’ll ever be good for anyways.” Naoya growls, speeding up his thrusts. Biting down on your shoulder. Angling his hips to hit deep inside your cunt over and over your G-spot. You swear you can feel him in your chest at this point.
Your hand falls to the edge of the tub squeezing the edge in an attempt to ground yourself from the new found angle. You do not want to give him the satisfaction of his use of your body as his own personal fuck-hole, that he could make you cum from the treatment as well.
“Fu- shit. You’re milking me you bitch!” His teeth detach from your shoulder, his hand gathering at the crown of your head to hold onto your hair and bring his body towards him. “Look at me.” The blond demands. Pace never falters. “A fucking mess from a little fucking.” He hisses. “Who owns you?”
As if he can talk, he’s practically panting and drooling like an animal in heat. The latter question sparks a flood of defiance in you, moving your head side to side.
“Tell me who you belong to if you wanna cum. Otherwise, you can just suck me off and I'll finish all over that pretty face. I don’t fucking care.”
You jolt in surprise as you feel his hand on your clit, lithe fingers swirling the bud. Teasingly coming and going each time you tighten around him. The itch that needs to be scratched is becoming a far bigger problem. Your inhibitions going out the window.
I mean, it's four words, it can't hurt right? Just this once you reason.
“I belong to…” You muster the reward of Naoya’s fingers rubbing your bundle slightly faster. The sounds of your moans and his hips slapping yours echoing in the bathroom.
“G-go on I can’t hold out much longer, stupid cunt feels too good.”
“I-I Belong to y-you! Na-Naoya!” You finally snap at the same time your husband increases the pace of both his fingers and thrusts. Your cunt squeezing him so tight he can barely pull out to go back in, your release exiting out of your spent pussy, splashing on Naoya’s pelvis.
“Too tight, too tight SHIT!” The man curses, pushing himself practically against your womb as you hear him growl, squeezing your body to him so tightly not even paper could come between.
You feel the final twitch as you come down from your high. Warm spurts of cum filling you to the brim.
Naoya pulls out slightly wincing as his spent cock falls out. Mesmerized seeing his pearly cum in your thoroughly abused pussy. Two fingers wasting no time to push it deeper. “I-it has to take. You need to be knocked up.” He pants, as you turn your head worried eyes widening. “Need to make sure you can’t leave. Even if you tried.” The latter part of the sentence comes out more dark as the former.
As you sit and lament over what just happened. Naoya steps beside you to drain the tub, leaving half the water before he fills it again with warm water. You look at him quizzically, he pays no mind, checking the water. Adding some salt and soap to the bath.  Before lifting you up and setting you in without a word. “I have one more errand to attend to.” He exclaims redressing himself. “I will be eating dinner with you. Your husband says before leaving the bathroom. Not waiting for a response from you.
Shock leaves your system. Did he just… Do something nice for you? You won’t say it’s the best aftercare, but honestly you thought he was just going to leave you on the cold tiled floor. Warmth creeps up to your heart at the gesture. You shake your head, scolding yourself. You cannot fall for crumbs. Never for him, anyone but him.
You can figure something out, you reason. Find a way to leave and keep your family safe at the same time. Change your names, move out of the country, something! You cannot stay here, if you don’t leave now. You will be stuck under his heel forever.
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