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scarlettriot · 3 years ago

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Stood Up

You (Y/N) get stood up from a date and Kaminari decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Kaminari/F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Flirty Denki, Established BakuSquad Friendship

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Electro-Stim, Overstimulation, use of pet names (cuddle bug & cutie), oral (F receiving), consensual recording

A/N: Well, here we are with the third in my Stood Up series. There is also Bakugo & Kirishima if you're interested. This one took me way too long and it's also my first time writing Kaminari at length. I hope you all like it :)

Word Count Starting Below: 2,461

You slipped your foot into the silver heels you had picked out. Something a little fancier since this was a first date after all and you wanted to make a lasting impression. Not only that but this was your first first date in a while. Being a Pro Hero made life busy and dating difficult.

Practically the entire day leading up to this very moment revolved around you either getting ready or babbling with excitement to your closest friends.

An alert chimed on your phone with a text from your date, a smile sliding onto your face expecting to read some message about how they were on their way and that they'd see you soon, but that wasn't what you were met with.

Instead, it was a screenshot of your Instagram page, multiple of them actually, all of you and the ridiculous photos you took with your friends but mostly with one Denki Kaminari. The most recent of which was from a tea shop he met you at just earlier that day so you could show him the shoes for your date.

The message below was simple and more than enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth, this isn't what I want to see when I'm supposed to be taking you out tonight. What, one date a day isn't enough? Why are you even dating? Does your blonde boyfriend know?

You giggled at what they were implying, quick to explain how these were all your friends, they had been since high school! They are people you spent what little free time you had with. Especially Denki, your best friend since you were 15!

That joy you felt started dissipating within the next few messages. You hadn't even had a first date and they were already jealous, and that was something you didn't have room for in your life. So, you slipped the heels off your feet and put them directly back in the box to return when you had the time. Tight black jeans and fitted top were exchanged with a hoodie and sweats although your makeup and hair stayed done, you didn't have the energy to undo your hard work.

Instead, you slid back into your computer chair, your headset snuggly back on your ears and before you notified everyone you were back online, you took a moment listening to the chatter of your friends.

"Shitty Hair! Fuckin' pay attention!"

"Yeah, man! We're getting slaughtered over here!"

"Less yelling at Kiri! More shooty shooty!"

"All of you are hopeless..."

Eijiro chuckled out an apology that was accompanied by a lighter giggle also coming from his mic. "Think this is gonna be my last round for a bit, guys."

"You're so fuckin' whipped." Bakugo scoffed, before screaming profanities.

"Is it whipped if I'm the one who's wanting to get her into bed though?"

You clicked your mic back on then. "Hey, remember last week when Kats forgot his push to talk so we all heard him getting head and we party whipped because someone couldn't focus?"

"You better shut the hell up right fucking now!"

Everyone else roared with laughter. "Yeah! At least I have the decency to mute myself!"

"Hey, wait a sec, why are you online, Y/N!" Denki noted, "You should have already left!"

You screenshot your messages to the group chat because it was far easier than just explaining the ordeal.

"Cute shoes." Eijiro and Kyoka commented at the same time.

There was a lull as their game ended and the messages were read.

"Ya don't need 'em if they're gonna have their head so far up their ass like this."

"I agree." Hanta chimed in. "They're not worth your time."

"Still, sorry they turned out to be a shit." You could hear the frown on Kyoka's face, "I know how excited you were."

"Right, you doin' okay, Y/N? I can stick around and we can all shoot some things!"

"Thanks, Kiri but I'll be just fine! Go spend time with your girl!"

One by one, everyone signed off. You pulled up Spotify and Stardew Valley, something of a comfort for you to get lost in for the rest of the night.

Less than an hour later, you noticed your phone lighting up with your best friend's familiar smiling face. "What's up, Denki?"

"Open your door! I have my hands full and don't wanna put everything down to get my key!"

You sprang from your desk and rushed to your door. Sure enough, on the other side was Denki with bags in both hands and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. You grabbed it and a bag before he had a chance to drop anything like the klutz he was. "What's with all this?"

"I feel bad."

"Why? You didn't stand me up?"

He fiddled with the edge of a paper bag. "Yeah, but, we both read those messages and no one said anything but they didn't just call our group out, they called us out.

"Denks, it doesn't matter to me-"

"But, it does to me! You were so excited about this and I got in the way, unknowingly but, still! So, I gotta make it up to you now!"

He pulled out take-out boxes from your favorite restaurant. Two bottles of your favorite wine. Your top three favorite movies and video games, and a board game you both had been meaning to try. "I mean, if they think I'm your boyfriend I kinda gotta live up to the hype, right?"

You really wanted to insist that none of this was necessary. That just because some person that neither of you really knew that well, assumed something about your relationship that didn't mean he had to blame himself for it.

But, you had to admit, this was really sweet. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to you that he knew everything you liked but it was nice. Instead of sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk, and trying to learn about one another, you were barefoot in your kitchen, laughing with your best friend while he plated dinner and you poured the wine.

Formalities were out the window. Both you and Denki were eating dinner in your living room, laughing and drinking just as you'd done a million times before. You snapped a photo of the delicious food on paper plates, toasting good times with your cheap wine, ready to post them to your Instagram.

"Gonna make them more jealous..."

"I think they made it pretty clear they don't want to see me so why should I care?"

He shrugged. "I just thought they might, you know, come to their senses that they obviously lost."

"I don't really care either way." You wandered back into your kitchen, putting away the leftovers, "They can forget I exist or they can stalk my page like a creep. If someones' gonna try and tell me I can't be friends with my friends or just not listen to me, then I don't want them in my life. No matter how good-looking they are."

Denki watched you from the sofa, a bit of a lopsided grin on his face that had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. "What?" Laughing to hide the bit of a crush you always had on the man. It was unavoidable you told yourself. His personality was infectious and had 15 year old you head over heels.

He pushed back bright blonde hair back off his forehead and just shook his head. "Nothin'. Uh, what's next? Video game, board game, or movie?"

You peaked on the counter at the options. "Well, we probably should have checked this but the board game needs at least four people to play... guess we'll have to save that for our next game night. Is a movie okay?"

Of course, it was.

You brought over the DVD with a refill of wine and he pulled a blanket down off the back of your sofa.

It really didn't take long, just fifteen minutes or so, and you were curled up into Denki's side. You'd make grabby hands for your wine glass and he'd pass it over with that damn grin again.

And not long after that, he'd pulled out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the two of you. "What are you doing?" You could see him on his own Instagram, tagging you, with the caption, Check out my cute cuddle bug.

"I thought you didn't want to make them more jealous."

"I decided I don't care either. You're mine tonight, their loss. And since you're mine tonight, I get bragging rights." He snapped another quick picture of you rolling your eyes at him, and then he kept snapping them.

"Denki! Why!"

"Because you're cute, cuddle bug! I like having all the pictures of you that I can!"

Even as you tackled him back down on the sofa, pinning him below you, he still managed a photo. "Bet if I post this one, they'll really get the wrong idea."

You could have moved. You were the one on top of him and you had his arms above his head. You had the power here and yet you just lingered above him.

"Y/N? Not that I'm one to complain about having a beautiful person such as yourself pinning me down, like, it's kinda hot, but..." Looking down into half-lidded golden eyes, you wondered why you had to become best friends with such a damn flirt! "Are you gonna take advantage of this situation we're in or are we just gonna keep dancing around this for another decade or so?"

You couldn't have heard him right? No... no this was your brain playing tricks on you because he certainly hadn't had that much wine tonight. You sat upright on his lap. "Another decade then, Y/N?"

"You- ha- you should stop that, Denki."

He leaned up, moving his arms around you, "Gimme a good reason to and I will."

You didn't have one. And not just because you've been in love with him for ten years but also because he was your best friend. The only reason to not go through with it was the possibility of losing your friendship if something bad were to happen but, you really didn't think anything would.

Denki might have been a serial flirt but he was surprisingly loyal in all the relationships he'd been in, not that there had been all that many serious ones.

"I'm not hearing anything." He teased, his face getting closer to yours. You could count each and every one of the faint freckles that littered the balls of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "But, I promise, if you tell me no, I'll stop, won't push this any further."

This whole thing seemed like a frickin' whirlwind, happening faster than your brain could really process the situation but you didn't want it to stop either. You wanted to take it further, didn't want to say no.

Which was why you coiled your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. There was that small little buzz of electricity that tickled your lips when he'd kiss your nose or cheeks that was now playing on his lips, on his tongue when you welcomed him in.

He leaned back again, pulling you with him until you were both a pile of needy hands and breathy pleas. Everywhere his hands roamed you felt that faint trail of shock against your skin, making the little hairs on your body stand on end.

Clothes were shed, tossed haphazardly around your living room, both of you pausing to laugh when Denki managed to land your hoodie over a lamp. His attention was drawn back to you quickly though, still perched on top of him but now he had your chest on full display since you'd forgone a bra when your date canceled.

Electrifying tongue twirled around your nipples, sensitive normally, now it felt like you knew what it was like when he fried his damn brain. He was eager, relentless even, pulling and sucking, another hand giving your other breast a similar treatment. He had you so focused that you let out a broken moan when slender fingers found their way into your panties.

"Fuckin' hell, Denki."

The bastard winked up at you, nipple still between his lips and before you could retort, he sent another small jolt through you.

You were blatantly grinding down on his hand, reaching behind you, you found him completely solid, barely being contained in the tight black boxers he wore. You had enough sense to tug them down and wrap your hand around him making his teeth sink into your soft flesh, whining when you stroked him.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, his hand momentarily distracted from his ministrations gave you enough time to shift in his lap to scoot forward putting his cock in front of you. In one swift motion, you had his length between your slick. "Oh fuck, cutie!" Golden eyes were squeezed shut while you moved along him, feeling that pleasant curve he had, you could only imagine what it was gonna be like to have him inside you.

"You're being a little tease, ma-makes me wanna do all sorts of things to y-you."

He was kissing your neck, your chest, shoulders, and arms, anywhere on you that he could reach. His hips bucking up into you, just trying to hit that perfect angle.

Strength and agility were something most overlooked when it came to Denki Kaminari but when the man wanted something bad enough, he found a way to get it.

He had your ass rising up in the air with a harsh thrust of his hips and a small squeak from you, giving him exactly enough time to scoot down on the sofa so you were sat atop his face. If you complained, he didn't hear you. Denki already had your thighs around his head and his tongue devouring you completely.

Little shockwaves rocked you while you cried out his name, hands fisting blonde locks just trying to stay upright.

One orgasm from you apparently wasn't enough, neither was two but on the third, Denki finally relented, allowing your heartrate to come back down and your gasping breaths to come in more steadily.

You slid back down his body, his erection now smack against your ass. His hair was recked, face completely flush but he had the biggest grin on his face that you'd ever seen.

Denki kissed both your cheeks, "You are so amazing, cutie!" Kissed your lips, "You taste better than anything I've ever had!" And one more on the tip of your nose. "Doin' okay?"

You nodded, starting to really gather yourself again, and by this point, you really just wanted one thing.

"I wanna... Denks... can I take care of you now?"

"Sure, cutie! How do you want me?" The wiggling eyebrows had you rolling your eyes and pushing him on his back again.

It took little effort for you to position yourself above his cock, and with how slick you were, his bright pink head slipped right inside. He held your hands while you scrunched up your face, sliding all the way down him until he was completely sheathed within.

The curve was immaculate. Hitting in just the right way that had you moaning with just a couple thrusts from him. Before long, you were eagerly bouncing on his cock. Riding him hard so he filled you up each and every time.

You barely registered him reaching for the coffee table, his phone now in his hands. "What're you doin'?" You practically slurred, slowing only slightly. He tapped the camera lens with a wicked grin. "Seriously?"

"We could make 'em really jealous now..."

Somewhere in your brain, you knew your date wouldn't give two shits, in fact, this probably would have only validated their thoughts about your's and Denki's relationship but with his cock stuffed so deeply into you, kissing your cervix in the most beautiful way, you really didn't give a damn.

You and Denki put on the best possible show you could think of. You were overstimulated, sore, and completely elated! He balanced the phone against the wine bottle so neither of you had to try to hold it.

This way he could play with your breasts or squeeze your thighs while you dug half-moons into his chest. Shocked with the playful zaps he sent right to your core.

Your makeup you'd didn't feel like taking off now ran down your cheeks with tears. Your hair was a mess thanks to him pulling at it.

Denki had you howling through another two orgasms, telling you how perfect you were, how nice you felt squeezing him so tightly, your nails felt so good against his skin.

It was only when you collapsed against his chest did he hoist your hips up so he could ram into you, pulling out just at the last second with a strangled cry of your name.

He wiggled himself free, grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you both up before stopping the recording.

"You're, hey you're gonna send that to me right?" You asked when he handed back your hoodie off the lamp.

He dropped a kiss on your lips, plopping down beside you on the sofa again and you noticed your email already up and the video uploading. "Obviously, we share all our videos and photos. Why would this be different?"

#mha #bnha #mha smut #denki kaminari #kaminari #kaminari smut #denki kaminari smut #mha fluff #denki fluff #denki smut #denki x you #mha x reader #kaminari x reader #denki x reader

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odetojeons · 4 years ago

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Until It Feels Like You’re In Heaven — Jeon Wonwoo

request: Hello do you still take requests? Your writing is amazingggg!! Thank you for existing 😭💕. Can i req a whipped dom!wonwoo x fem reader where he has a size kink and a smol gf please? I think that will be a cute concept 🥺

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!wonwoo, size kink, tattoed and pierced jeon wonwoo just because, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (uh idk why but I never write sex with a condom help), established wonwoo x reader, a tiiiny bit of spitting kink, very light verbal humiliation, aftercare, this goes from fluff to horny really quickly, fluff if you squint (or not?), a frankly unrealistic amount of cum, OH AND, stomach bulge 🥴

a/n: so haha I am back? with more filth? I tried adding fluff (even tho I completely forgot that the person who made the request asked for whipped wonwoo, good thing this is always in my agenda every time I write so I didn't have any problems lmfao) but I'm too much of a horny bitch and a simp for this man so,, idk? tell me what you think later! I hope you all perish— I mean, like this!

Word Count: 7826

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Aren’t you going to help?” you question, lifting a brow at your boyfriend, who’s currently sitting in one of the chairs and supporting his chin with the palm of his hand, plate of onions that should be already cut laying untouched in front of him.

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“Nope,” Wonwoo answers, giving you that kind of smile which makes you almost, almost feel less annoyed at the fact that you’ve been trying to reach something in the upper shelves for the last five minutes and he doesn’t move his ass to help you at all. “You’re just too cute trying to reach something.”

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There’s heat creeping up your neck, cheeks tinting red, and Wonwoo's smile gets bigger, shining and full of fondness. It leaves you stunned in silence for a while. It’s hard not to be in love with him. But it’s not like you try anyways.

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“J-just hurry up, aren’t you hungry?” you cough, looking away solely because you can’t stand the warmness in Wonwoo’s face without feeling like you’re going to combust any time soon.

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“I am. I can help you out,” he states simply, but doesn’t make a move. You gesticulate with your hand, pointing at him and at the rice jar in the upper shelf. “But only if you say please, though.”

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“I’m—” laughing incredulously, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Would you please get the rice jar for me, sir?”

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Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long, eyes a bit dark, and gets up to get the jar, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively make yourself smaller when his bigger and broader frame hovers over you, large enough to swallow your tiny body. The size difference has always been something you both feel incredibly turned on by.

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“So small,” he appreciates, always does, and your neck burns from the intensity of your blushing. “The cutest.”

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Wonwoo puts the rice jar in your hands, the darkness in his face melting into a beam.

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“Here it goes, little girl,” he says, going back to his chair to complete the task which he has been doing for at least ten minutes now. The way he says little girl has you dumbfounded, heart hammering against your chest. “Are you just going to stand there? Do you like being called little that much?”

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“Shut up,” you admonish, blushing furiously as you turn on your back to continue what you were doing. You just hate how everything Wonwoo does affects you so much. You’re sure this must be bad for your health.

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The two of you continue your journey through cooking and eating after you’re both done with the preparations. Things with Wonwoo are always so easy, everything feels natural and domestic and the bubbling feeling of happiness you feel whenever you’re with him lulls you to fall in love with him even deeper than before.

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The way he teases you when you’re clumsy and spill sauce over yourself, but still cleans you up with the most fond smile ever, like you’re so completely adorable he can’t help himself. Or when you put more salt in the food than you should and you know it’s not that good, but he still compliments it and tells you he loves it so much, the sincerity in his eyes makes a surge of something pull at your lower stomach.

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If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the love of your life, you don’t know who is.

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But right now you just want the ground to eat you alive and swallow you whole, because you’re standing right in front of the bed. The one bed. To which it suddenly doesn’t look big enough, not as you remember.

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Well, it’s not like you have never shared a bed before, you have even had a shit ton of sex in this exact piece of mattress, but the thing is, it’s been a while since you last saw Wonwoo. His job required him to spend three months away, and this is the first time you came to his house ever since he came back two days ago.

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You consider throwing yourself out of the window and into the dark, miserable night, thinks your poor heart will explode otherwise.

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“I’m not going to eat you.” Wonwoo’s voice carries over from the bathroom door, startling you into action. You jerk toward the bed, jumping on it and face flushing. You had showered before him, now dressed with one of his big shirts.

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It fell all the way to your mid thigh, the size difference between the two of you making you almost drown on the fabric of his clothes. It smells nice, smells like Wonwoo, and your cheeks burn when he drinks the sight of you in with dark eyes, not even trying to hide.

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“Unless you want me to,” he adds, not helping your situation at all.

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BSHANDJAJSND?, your brain supplies.

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“Oh my god,” you admonish, yanking the blanket off the bed and just as you get in, your eyes hone in on the ink swirling up Wonwoo’s right biceps. You have seen the tattoo through the pictures he sent you before, the snake crawling up to his shoulder, head stopping at his right chest.

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This is, however, the first time you’ve seen the metal bar through one of Wonwoo’s nipples — to which you already knew the existence of, but looking in person is totally different —, heat winding in the pit of your belly as you realize the snake is looking right at that same nipple. Unfortunately for your poor heart, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, hanging low on his hips, slim waist on display.

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Wonwoo is… hot.

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There’s no other way to put it despite your best efforts. He looks like one of those Greek statues, rippling muscle and hand carved abs, the cut of his jaw too sharp to be real. Your mouth waters and you can’t look away.

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And Wonwoo has been changing. He always had the thin type of body, being slim and tall, but in the end of last year he started exchanging the lazy hours he spent gaming with animated workouts at the gym — something about the way he was wasting his precious time of life and he could be acquiring knowledge and being healthy instead of sitting in front of a computer for hours —, and holy fuck if the result wasn’t quite the damn view.

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You draw the blanket right up to your chin, back very purposefully to Wonwoo’s side of the bed as you’re still trying to stop the mild heart attack you have going on. You don’t want to see him climbing into bed for safety purposes but that doesn’t mean your heart rate doesn’t spike up when the bed dips. When Wonwoo settles down under the same blanket, your brain very enthusiastically — and meaningfully — points out that you’re only a few centimeters away and that there’s nothing separating you.

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His abs flash behind your eyes and you nearly throw the blanket off, ready to storm out of the room and sleep on the sofa instead. You let out a breath you don’t even know you’re holding when Wonwoo flicks the flight off, the room disappearing into darkness, before he turns on the red leds from under his bed.

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You feel warm all over with the fact that he still remembers you don’t like sleeping in complete darkness.

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You try not to tense too much when he drapes an arm around your waist, locking you in. Your legs tangle together as he adjusts himself better, the other arm coming behind your head to serve as a pillow. Now you’re not only dying from the closeness but as well essentially drooling over the bulge of his thick biceps.

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Congratulations universe for managing to make you even more desperate.

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You’re not sure how long you just lie there, staring out the window, unable to fall asleep. Your brain doesn’t want to shut off, a blaring alarm of Jeon Wonwoo going off in your head.

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“I missed you so much,” Wonwoo says as if he read your thoughts, voice soft and filled with warmth, and you find yourself immediately melting in his arms despite your nervousness. “Thought I was going crazy without you, munchkin.”

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There’s a hard squeeze in your heart. You just love so much when he calls you that.

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“Missed you too,” you admit with a smile, the tip of Wonwoo’s nose dragging through your hair as he inhales the smell of his own shampoo. “Missed your smell.”

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“Just my smell?” Wonwoo teases with a light tone, caressing his free hand on your inner thigh. It was supposed to be a feather-like gesture, but the closeness between the two of you made your body oversensitive, and you find yourself moaning softly as your skin rocks with a shiver.

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Wonwoo tenses immediately when he hears the sound, hand stuttering to a stop. There’s a beat of what you call the most painful silence you ever had — your mind swirls with the thought that you just ruined the mood, face heating up uncontrollably at your own neediness —, before his fingers sink into the flesh of your inner thigh, startling you with the strength behind his grip.

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“Answer me.”

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You whine louder this time, the realization of his change of tone going from fond to an irrevocable order sinking wanton deep within your lower stomach. You try to close your legs, but Wonwoo’s leg stops you where it rests right in the middle of them, dangerously close to your throbbing core. You wonder if he could feel the heat emanating from it.

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“N-no,” you begin, voice already shaken up. Wonwoo’s breath caresses the helix of your ear, making goosebumps surge all over your skin. “Missed y-your bed too.”

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“Is that so?” he hums, chest vibrating where it presses against your back. “What else, munchkin?”

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“Missed—” your voice gets caught up in your throat when he licks your helix, teeth pulling the lobe of your ear. The soft drag of his lips all over that place is making your job difficult. “M-missed all of you, hmmm.”

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Wonwoo hums again, pleased with your answer, and leans so close to you your body gets half pinned to the bed. This way his bigger frame completely engulfs your smaller one, the difference between your sizes getting even more overwhelming now that he’s bulked up.

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And you’re not the only one affected by it, because as soon as Wonwoo realizes how he almost swallows you up in this position, he downright moans right by your ear.

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“So fucking small,” he tells you appreciatevely, voice one octave lower as his fingers presses on your inner thigh harder. “Missed touching you.”

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There’s a shift in Wonwoo, his leg rising up between yours and stopping centimeters away from the heat of your cunt, and you can’t hold back the shiver, wants Wonwoo to press down there. When you attempt to slide Wonwoo’s hand up and off of you so then you could turn around, you’re met with a growl instead, Wonwoo bodily pinning you to the bed.

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“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and it makes you feel like you’re a prey just ready to be caught by the big, bad wolf. You whine softly at that thought, hand coming to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist reflexively.

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“Wonwoo,” is your answer, like that would explain everything. Wonwoo chuckles softly, embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“When we called and I saw your face,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Suddenly, you can’t remember how to breathe, Wonwoo’s mouth on your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear. He nuzzles into the same spot, kisses lower and your heart shakes loud enough you think the neighbors might hear, hyperaware of every inch of your bodies touching.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I know I couldn’t, so I did it all from behind,” Wonwoo admits, sending your mind into a little haze. Of course he has been jerking off to the thought of you, but hearing him say it out loud has your panties getting soaked. “Sticking my dick in…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hasn’t stopped nuzzling you, in some kind of daze as he inhales your scent. There’s a hand on your hip now, holding you down, liquid heat pooling in your belly, spreading outward.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“…and fucking you mercilessly…” he continues, voice getting deeper and rougher with each word, his breath labored. “…and watching you cum endlessly… I thought I would be fine just imagining it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Won—” you start, breathless, the sound of your own voice sounding so airy leaving you embarrassed. But then finally, finally he presses his thigh into your core, your hips immediately going down to rut hard against the muscle.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fucking drenched,” Wonwoo snarls lowly when he feels the wetness of your soaked panties dirtying the fabric of his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The sound makes you writhe on the bed, fists balling in the mattress.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But seeing you, so small…” the trace of Wonwoo’s hand in your skin is light, almost like a gentle whisper as it makes a burning path up, up, up until it stops by your neck, fingers closing softly around your throat. “Makes me want to rail you, carve the shape of my big cock inside your walls.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s teeth sink into the skin just at the base of your neck. It’s hardly a bite, you know he could leave worse, but then Wonwoo laps at it afterwards, tender, surrenders you into moving your hips obscenely on his thigh. The way he says, knows his cock is big has heat licking your insides, and if it were anyone else saying the same thing you would be cringed, but there’s just something special about Jeon Wonwoo doing this that makes him look like the hottest man alive.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re addicting,” Wonwoo admits with a growl, the feeling of his touch turning possessive as he helps you ride his thigh better by a hand on your waist. “Once I get a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting more. Wanna have my way with you until you’re all mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Need seeps through your bones, body trembling as you try to scatter the air it has been knocked out of your lungs when Wonwoo fits his cock in the curve of your ass.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you’re hard,” you comment, as if it’s not obvious, but it has been so long since the last time you felt his bulge pressing against you that it makes you desperate. “You’re so hard.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Who’s fault do you think it is?” Wonwoo questions, groaning when you sway your hips from side to side on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we…” you trail off, hiding your face in the pillow. “Y-you know?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Nope, you gotta be more specific,” he says with a teasing smile, and you smack him in the arm. Wonwoo laughs before his voice gets serious. “Say it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This switch of him turning on and off between a sweet boyfriend to the man who doms you never fails to give you a whiplash.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we— Can w-we fuck?” you ask shyly, wanting the ground to swallow you whole. You have no idea why you are being this shy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hmm, it depends,” Wonwoo hums like he’s considering the options. You turn to look at him, mortified, but he only laughs at your indignation. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush furiously at the question, face turning to look away as you mumble a yes, but then Wonwoo’s grabbing at your jaw and yanking your head back in place until you’re staring right in the deepness of his eyes, the intensity of them stunting you into complete silence.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he orders, leaving no room for arguments, and you nod your head quickly at that. “Out loud.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes,” you hurry to obey, watching satisfaction curl all over his face. “‘M always a good girl.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I don’t think so, munchkin,” Wonwoo grins, wicked and teasing, and you brace yourself for whatever is going to happen this night. “Sometimes you’re so desperate and impatient you can’t even wait for me before fucking yourself with those plastic toys of yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” and you’re unable to look away even when shame burns all over your body. “H-how did you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“How did I know?” your sentence morphs into a moan when Wonwoo presses his thigh so hard against you cunt it has your body jumping a little. “You think I wouldn’t feel how you’re more loose when I fucked you? You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is mercilessly dragging your hips up and down his leg, your whines sounding high and sweet in your own ears.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re oblivious even to yourself,” he tells you, tone rough as he ruts against your ass. Your heart lurches in your chest, Wonwoo’s words like a hot coal in the pit of your belly, erupting into flames. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, cunt pulsing with arousal. “Even today, the way you were staring at me…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s touch is gone. His hands leave your hips, thigh frees you from the pressure, and the warmth seems so far now. You turn, complaint already at the tip of your tongue, but Wonwoo’s faster, rougher as he manhandles you on your back and hovers over your body, caging you in with his arms.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You looked like a prey who has just been caught into the wolf’s den,” he smiles at you, wicked and cruel as he grabs your jaw and pushes your head back. “Like you wanted me to break you in until it feels like you’re in heaven.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a breath against your bare neck, his groan hitting your skin when he bites it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Or eat you up until there’s nothing left in you that doesn’t belong to me,” you’re definitely not expecting the moan that escapes Wonwoo’s mouth, so affected and deep it’s got all the hairs in your nape standing up, every fiber of your body telling you to submit. “Fuck, and it turns me on so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You make a sound out of neediness, hands reaching for Wonwoo. He goes easily, body pressing into yours as he crashes your lips together. Wonwoo kisses you like he wants to conquer you, licking into the seam of your mouth and teeth scraping at your bottom lip just so he could soothe the pain later with his tongue. Your head spins with the intensity of it, it’s messy and there’s too much spit and teeth, but that only makes it even more addicting.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But Wonwoo doesn’t kiss you enough today. He almost never does when he’s feeling like that — possessive, mean, wicked even, when he needs you to know your damn place —, wants to ebb the pleasure away when you’re starting to get hotter until it’s replaced by pure desperation and you can’t do anything else other than beg for him to give in to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

So that’s what you do, staring up at his eyes trained on you as if you’re a prey.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please,” you start, voice caught into a moan when Wonwoo’s fingers sink into your jaw and his mouth falls ajar, like the sound of you saying this particular word gives a physical stroke to his cock. “P-please, fuck me. Wanna— Wanna belong t-to you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And that’s enough. That’s enough, that’s enough, Wonwoo wants, you want, and he’ll give that to you since he has always been a weak man for your begging. There’s a fraction of seconds that he thinks he might pass out with all the blood rushing from his head to his other head, cock throbbing in his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Don’t know how so much eagerness fits into this little body of yours,” Wonwoo murmurs against your mouth, his hand squeezing your face. You find yourself parting your mouth open, whining, pliant and overwhelmed as Wonwoo slips his tongue in again, kissing you filthy. The scent of his familiar cologne is so sharp, surrounding you and leaving your mind dazed until all you can think is Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo. When he pulls back this time, Wonwoo pushes his thumb into your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watches you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it further into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan around it, watching Wonwoo’s every reaction, the way his breath hitches, shoulders tensing. There’s a shift on the bed, Wonwoo moving up and up and up and you can’t breathe because now the bulge pressing against the fabric of his clothes is standing proudly right in front of your face, Wonwoo almost straddling your chest. You let the realization that he’s going to fuck your mouth sink deep within your core, and try not to show how deeply affected you are by the idea.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You fail, of course, hips lifting off of the bed and falling down again, biting around the finger inside of your mouth that keeps you from taking a better look in the place you are dying to see.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“That desperate to suck me off, baby?” Wonwoo asks, and you flush, hate how you love the humiliated burn, how it makes you wetter. You’re too embarrassed to throw something back at Wonwoo, gaze dropping to his erect cock the best you can. He pushes your head back up, making you look at him instead. “Do you wanna see it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I do,” you reply, a little too fast for your own good, and it only serves for Wonwoo to laugh at your neediness. You debate if you’re as red as you think you are, the burn in your cheeks spreading all the way down to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Wonwoo’s tone is almost condescending, still playful, like he doesn’t think you can even handle the sight of his cock, and you like how it makes your cunt twitch and ache. It’s as if you enjoy the belittlement, enjoy the way Wonwoo wants you to prove yourself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m,” you start, swallowing, “I’m ready.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s smile is a touch dark, nearly a sneer, but his hand leaves your mouth to hook a thumb in the waistband of his pants. You nearly drool. He pulls on the fabric until his cock is free, slapping against your left cheek and smearing precum on your face. Your head spins, realising that even this part of Wonwoo’s body seemed to have grown bigger. Maybe it’s your imagination, haven’t actually seen it in real life for the past three months, but the thickness is intimidating.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The best intimidating possible.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your heart thuds in your chest, unable to look away from his cock. There’s spit collecting on your tongue, embarrassment fighting against your desire to please. Leaning forward, you suckle the tip into your mouth, making a pleased sound when you taste the salty tang of precum.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo leans back a bit, wanting to assess your face better, and the taut lines of his body contorts in an even hotter way with the new position. You moan again, staring at the piercing in Wonwoo’s nipple and the head of the inked snake looking at it, and sucks on the head, tongue pushing along the underside. Your body throbs with your own heated desire.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wrap a hand around the base, gut twisting hotly when you realise you can’t even get your fingers all the way around — no matter how many times you notice this, they all make you feel equally needy. And you’re not the only one affected by it, Wonwoo’s hips kicking forward and cock thrusting inside of your mouth, the growl he lets out going straight to your core.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” he says, breath audible enough to echo inside the room. “I will ruin you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The confession has your body arching for a few seconds, sucking hard on the tip of Wonwoo’s cock until he’s moaning at the feeling. He takes a fistful of your hair, but you push against the hold so you could take more of it into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Quit it,” Wonwoo demands, your displeased whine making his hold grow firmer. “Do as you’re told or you might not get my cock at all tonight.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He pulls you off, your pants loud and labored.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did I make myself clear?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes, sir,” you add just for the teasing — but mostly because you want Wonwoo to punish you for making him lose his beloved control —, feeling pleased as you watch the clear change of expressions going on in Wonwoo’s face. His eyes darken impossibly more, eyebrows frowning and then there’s a hand on your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your mouth goes dry as soon as his fingers close around your throat, body writhing and mind going into submission mode.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Filthy little slut,” Wonwoo snarls, face suddenly close, and then he’s spitting into your open mouth and you feel like you will come very soon. You flinch, eyes shutting on reflex, and then moan. “Want me to punish you, don’t you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything, but you hope the look in your eyes answers his question. It probably does, because there’s a tiny little smirk playing on the edge of Wonwoo’s lips before he kisses you, softer than you could ever imagine he would be in this moment.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” he breathes, the sudden confession making a different kind of burn itch your throat. You know very well that when Wonwoo tells you that I’m the middle of sex then it’s because this will be a passionate fucking. One of those that he keeps your body so close you think you might become one with him, one of those he kisses you so gently one moment only to treat you roughly in the other, one of those he wants to make you fall apart, crumble and cry and even so, it will be full of love and care and sweetness. “I love you so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for your answer. Doesn’t need to, he knows your heart belongs to him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say ah for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo instructs and you obey, mouth hanging open, tongue out. Wonwoo slaps his cock against it, precum dirtying your tongue as the slap slap slap of his cock hitting your mouth fills the heavy air of the room. He even traces the tip over your upper lip, smearing precum along your cheek when he slaps your face with it before placing his cock right back on your waiting tongue. “Put this mouth to better use.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You do, eager to do as you’re told after Wonwoo’s confession, blood singing from his praise and his disparagement alike. You sink down onto it as far as you can take it, nearly gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Wonwoo drowns out a broken “fuck” above you, stroking your cheek and moving further in the bed to lessen the awkward twist of your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Wonwoo breathes, voice strained as you suck him off, head bobbing. He brushes your hair back, little groans and growls escaping him every time his cock hits the back of your throat, you swallowing around it, or when you speed up, fucking your mouth on Wonwoo’s length. “Such a pretty little cocksucker, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush, heart hammering in your chest with the compliment, but he closes a fist in your hair and makes you stop all movements.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” Wonwoo starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. You know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. “until you gag.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan a bit uncontrollably around his cock, legs kicking in the bed at the affirmation, and Wonwoo is staring at you with a look you can’t quite describe. It makes you ashamed of being so eager but at the same time proud of being his little cockslut.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo holds you in place, hips bucking into your mouth. He goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling because it has been a while since the last time you sucked him off. It is short lived, as soon as you look up at him and nod — the best you could with your movements being kind of restricted —, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had Wonwoo’s fat cock in your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan, one of your hands still working up and down along Wonwoo’s shaft as he fucks into you, tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes. He falls a bit forward when you start gagging a little, throat convulsing around his thickness, and he sprawls his fingers in the wall for support.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck fuck fuck, shit,” Wonwoo breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. Tingles spark down your spine, wetness pouring out of you and soaking your panties even more and you want so desperately to come, to be fucked, but you want to please him first.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and then he’s pulling away. You look at him, mind in a haze, but still dumbfounded. His breath is labored and he looks like he’s having a hard time keeping together, hips thrusting into the air. It boosts your ego to see him this messed up because of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did so well for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. It seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. At the look you’re giving him, he adds: “Wanna cum with you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. Wonwoo caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. His fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by Wonwoo’s greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And then Wonwoo’s sucking. Hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It caughts you off guard, hips lifting off of the bed and thigh pressing tightly against Wonwoo’s cock, his groan being muffled by your skin. He bites, suckles and kisses the particular spot underneath your jaw, so far up your neck you won’t be able to hide it, especially because it’s summer. And you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it’s throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked. It leaves you breathless, not having time to recover when Wonwoo pulls your shirt up until he can get one nipple into his mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon, fuck,” you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, and Wonwoo growls at the nickname, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he’s telling you how much this affects him. “Please—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you’re sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. Wonwoo busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Down and down, his fingers then slips inside your penties, brushing across your clit so lightly that it has your whole body rocking with shivers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s body goes completely still. You feel him tensing under your palms, heat already flooding your face when you know he feels it, feels the way you’re already stretched open for him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You—” he starts but stops himself, pushing a finger inside for great measure. Wonwoo growls when he meets almost no resistance, face lifting from where it rests on your chest to look at you. “When?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The intensity of his voice leaves your mouth dry.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“E-earlier, in the— in the s-shower,” you confess, voice quiet, and you can’t look away, Wonwoo’s eyes pinning you to your spot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hah,” he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. Wonwoo pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. You moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. “Acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He gyrates his hand, pushing hard and without mercy, right before he adds another finger, this time more slowly. It burns a little, his fingers way bigger than yours, but you love the slight pain.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come into my house knowing I would fuck you?” Wonwoo asks, knows the answers but does it anyway. He moves his hand a little, waiting for your to be more comfortable with the sensation of his fingers, but as soon as your frown turns upside down, Wonwoo has no restrains whatsoever, fucking into you fast and sharp. “Fingered yourself knowing that I would split you open on my big cock?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but Wonwoo holds your waist with his free hand and pins them down hard. Your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can’t stop the loud moans slipping through your lips, doesn’t even care about the neighbors as your nails sink into Wonwoo’s back to the point it might leave tiny crescent moons all over it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come back then?” Wonwoo continues, pace unforgiving even when tears well up into your eyes. He trusts you to use your safeword if needed as much as you trust him to use his. “Did you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You struggle to answer, voice being surrendered to moans and whines and whimpers and it’s hard to focus when he’s hitting your sweet spot with the tip of his fingers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah! Ah, hmmm, f-fuck, please Won— Wonwon,” you try, can’t even understand how you still manage to get red when you realise Wonwoo is looking at you with so much desire. The point you both most like about your relationship is that Wonwoo is the dom, but he knows you have him in the palm of your tiny hands. “I, ah, d-din’t. Di— Didn’t want to, fuck, please— c-come without you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out at that, your cunt clenching around nothing as he goes lighting fast to take both of your clothes off, grab your waist and flip you on your stomach just as he reaches for the nightstand to grab what you know very well it’s a bottle of lube. He pulls your hips up until you’re face down, ass up on the bed, the hurry in all of this only sending desperation all over your body, and the sound of the cap being opened has butterflies in your stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Fuck,” Wonwoo sounds a mess, fingers hurrying to close a fist on his cock and jerk it off furiously to spread the lube better, the wet head nudging against your rim. “Fuck, shit, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Do it,” you beg. “Please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And who is he to deny what you want?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pushes inside you slowly despite his hunger, knows he’s big and there’s an alarming size difference between the both of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands clench into fists and it feels like you’re being impaled onto Wonwoo’s cock, going deeper than any cock you ever taken before. Tears cling to your lashes as a small jolt of pain runs up your spine, the lube easing Wonwoo’s way in. Overall you’re proud of yourself, haven taken him before, more times than you can count, and you accommodate his cock like a pro.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your chest heaves, no amount of air feels like enough as Wonwoo’s cock all but punches everything out of you. You’re biting at the pillow by the time the last of it pushes into you, a haze surrounding your mind because it feels so good.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s groan transforms into a moan once he’s buried all the way into you, hips flush against your ass and spreading you open so wide and so deep, you would think you might break if you didn’t know any better. You gasp, back arching downward as you take your time to adjust to the large intrusion.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses your shoulder tenderly, waiting for you to grow used to the feeling. He can be rough when it comes to bed, but he always is mindful of you no matter how impatient and desperate he is. There’s this soft feeling going on inside you, mixing with your pleasure and it only serves to make you more needy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, hot breath falling against your neck as he stands behind you. You feel surrounded — his scent everywhere, the pulse of the hickeys he carved on your skin, the press of his long fingers on your waist —, your submission for Wonwoo’s eyes only.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You nod at him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

A lick at your neck is all the warning you get before Wonwoo pulls out so very slowly, cock dragging against your walls and rim. It feels like forever, you whining at the sensation, and then you’re being slammed back into.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes blurry as you struggle for air. You moan as Wonwoo drags himself back out again, and thrusts right back in and groans at the feeling. “Y-yes—”

�� ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So good,” Wonwoo growls, close to inhumane as he continues with that pace. “So fucking good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Eventually, Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be able to go slow anymore, thrusts turning sharper and harder, his pace unrelenting. You find yourself almost screaming through it, so overwhelmed by the size of him — a good overwhelmed, the best overwhelmed —, but the way you feel so full and the exponential pleasure leaves you numb to any other thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, your mind seems to chant, fucked open mercilessly by your boyfriend.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Taking cock like a pro, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Wonwoo says, stops for a second, adjusts his hips, and then slams back right into your sweet spot, like he knows where it is by heart. Your body lurches forward, bed slamming against the wall. Hands reaching to hold onto something, you scramble against the sheats until one of them fists it and the other holds the pillow for dear life. “You’re gonna wake the whole hall, screaming like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You have enough of a decency to feel ashamed about it, but it’s not like neither of you actually care. If anything, Wonwoo fucks you harder, hips jamming inside you until your throat hurts from all the noises you’re making.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please, p-please— I wanna— I h-have to— Fuck, ah!” you’re not even sure about what you’re begging for, Wonwoo pulling your hips to meet his thrusts half way. You love this, feeling like a ragdoll, being thrown around and only able to take what he gives to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Good little girl,” Wonwoo croons, his voice rough. Your skin glistens with sweat, the shimmering red light reflecting on it. “Looking so beautiful taking my cock.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure what compels you after he says that but you reach down, hand smoothing down your abdomen because you feel like Wonwoo is spearing you open. But you go completely tense, squeezing Wonwoo so hard he stutters with a moan, because under your palm there is the outline of his cock protruding against your lower belly. The feeling makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t hold it in, whithe pleasure flooding you as you end up coming, eyes rolling to the back of your head and you’re crying all the way through it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re coming?” Wonwoo deadpans, sounding surprised and angry at the same time. “Holy shit, you’re coming untouched and without my permission? What were you think—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s complaint immediately dies down when you bring a trembling hand to grab his wrist and put his fingers in the cause of your orgasm. There’s a beat of silence, the both of you completely still, and then Wonwoo is growling the most animalistic growl you ever heard him do, the sheer intensity of it rocking all the way to your bones. He presses his hips so tightly into yours it has you sobbing.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” it’s all he says, tone two octaves lower and sounding dangerous, doesn’t even have it in him to punish you. “Fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s like the caged beast he keeps so carefully locked deep within himself started to surface. Wonwoo pushes your head down on the mattress, the other hand still on your belly. He pulls out until the tip and then slams back inside, as hard as he can, and you downright scream at the feeling, the oversensitiviness adding up to your pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s another few seconds of silence, and then Wonwoo is fucking you brutally. His moans echo through the room, so completely desperate that it has you wailing, sobbing, crying desperate pleas for more.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at that,” Wonwoo says, hand pressing harder against the bulge in your stomach. “Pushed my big cock into you until your insides were forced to make room for it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He grabs your arm and yanks you up, your back pressing against his chest and an arm circling around your waist. The other comes up to squeeze your left breast as you practically sit on his thighs. You moan at the feeling of his pierced nipple dragging against your skin every time he fucks up into you, your body only held in place because of the firm grip Wonwoo has on you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Sobbing, you feel like you’re losing yourself in the sensations, Wonwoo’s cock pounding into your cunt and his voice by your ear and the burn of his hips hitting your ass — by now it must be all red, the marks probably going to linger for some time. You can’t hold yourself together anymore, mouth open and drooling, tears clinging to your lashes, staccato moans falling from your lips that break on every thrust. You’re limp against Wonwoo, can’t even fuck back, letting him have his way with you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Drooling all over yourself for my cock,” Wonwoo says, fucks in deep against your sweet spot and mouths at the side of your neck. “Because of me, right? Tell me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you— yours, yours, please,” your head falls back on his shoulder, hand pressing tightly in the shape of his cock in your stomach, and at this point you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ve broken you in, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And he did, really. He has broken you in, has you crying on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You belong to who?” Wonwoo pressed his hips flush on your ass, grinds hard enough for your body to be sent forward. A short few seconds so you can take a breath — or at least try to. “Hm? Who’s fucking you this good?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, Wonwon, you, please,” you cry out as he starts to fuck you mercilessly again, the brutal pace punching moans out of you. “Ah, ah, ah, p-please, haaah, I’m y-yours— yours, b-belong to, hmmm, to you only, please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echoes, thrusts turning erratic and groans morphing into moans. “Mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I can’t — I’m g-gonna—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come for me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And it’s enough for you. Your muscles tense, toes curling as hot, white pleasure surges through your body and floods you until you fall limp on the bed, hips only up because Wonwoo is holding them tightly. You clench around his cock involuntarily, his groan muffled by your hair and he’s coming, Wonwoo’s cock twitching inside you as thick spurts of come fill you to the brim. They seem to be endless, his spunk filling you up until it’s dripping out and down your thighs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t remember much of what happens later. Your mind spins and then you fall into a most needed slumber.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wake up a bit disoriented, having no idea how much has passed since you fell asleep, but you realise you’re all cleaned up and dressed, head resting in Wonwoo’s — thankfully, for the sake of your precious pussy — clothed chest as he uses his cellphone. He smells clean too, hair still a little bit wet, and you smile thinking that the shower you both took before going to bed was useless.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re up?” comes Wonwoo’s question when he feels your lips moving against him, placing his phone somewhere on the bed and circling his arms around you. You move your head, looking up at him with fondness.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, baby,” you breathe out, reaching to peck him in the lips once. He smiles, that kind of smile that leaves you breathless with love.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, my love,” Wonwoo laughs when you blush at the pet name. It’s so sweet and endearing, you always feel warm whenever he says it. “I see you still get all red when I call you that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you swat at his arm, Wonwoo’s following laugh sounding like the best music you ever heard. “How much did I sleep?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Not much,” he presses you tighter against him. “I think one hour? Something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you say, legs tangling with his and the smile never leaving your lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course, my love. Always will take care of you,” Wonwoo nuzzles your hair and inhales. “Got kind of surprised that I managed to fuck you into unconsciousness.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you mortify with a laugh, hitting his chest, but he only giggles at you. He giggles. Your heart might explode soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“What? Can’t I be happy that I pleasured my tiny girlfriend the way she deserves to?” Wonwoo says, and it sounds like a joke, but when you look up at him again to make a retort, the reverence in his eyes surrenders you speechless.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He stares at you with so much admiration and love, like you’re the most beautiful thing ever.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” you say instead, cheeks hurting from the way you’re smiling, and Wonwoo seems to be caught off guard because he’s blushing. Wonwoo’s blushing. He’s so cute you want to die.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” he coughs, pushing your head against his chest and you laugh at this shyness. “I love you too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Yes. The warmness of his hands, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the love in his eyes, the sweetness of his words — you missed everything about Jeon Wonwoo.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

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chuckbass-love · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I know you only just posted it but would it be possible to request 33&36 from the prompts with Ransom please?❤️

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this one, i really hope when you read it that it was worth the wait. Also thank you for requesting in the first place, it means a lot that people ask me to write fics for them.

Prompt #33: "Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic"

Prompt #36: "You'd better watch your fucking mouth"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut! Unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, swearing, daddy kink, implied alcohol consumption and use of the word slut/degradation. 18+ everyone....

Word Count: 2,191

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @twerkforambrose go check them out 💕

Your Filthy Addiction

Five more minutes, you’re going to give that arrogant son of a bitch five more minutes before you toss the food you’d made earlier. You’ve spent all dam day slaving away in that kitchen of yours to make sure Ransom had a decent home cooked meal to come back to after a long day working with Harlan, and what does he do? He doesn’t even show up.

You might love him but if you didn’t get annoyed at least once a day with him then life wouldn’t be right. He’s always doing something to mess you around.

And today is testament to that, it’s testament to the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t help but let you down. Maybe now you’ve had enough of sitting idly by and letting him walk all over you.

So when he eventually stumbles into the house, his tipsy state as clear as day, your cage is well and truly rattled.

“Where the hell have you been?” you snap, standing in front of him with your hands placed firmly on your hips as you take in his flustered cheeks. He’s very drunk indeed, probably due to the bottomless Jameson supply at the bar across town.

You’ve tried your hardest for years ever since the night you first met Ransom to help him with his obvious drinking problem but to no avail. And now you see why your solutions to his problems never worked, it was because despite his constant complaining about said problems, he loves having just a tiny bit of conflict in his life. Mostly with his good for nothing family who only treat him like dirt. But he gives as good as he gets, always has and always will.

“I was just out with Harvey” the way his shoulders move up as he shrugs only seems to bother you all the more. His lack of care for his actions have always created issues for your relationship but this takes the cake.

To some, your pouty and bratty behaviour may seem pathetic and unnecessary, but to you it’s more than him missing dinner. It’s about the fact that he always seems to let you down, over and over.

“Oh so you prefer his company over mine then? Because i made us a lovely meal so that we could eat together after a week of not being able to and this is the thanks i get? For my so called boyfriend to be swanning off with the master of one night stands” your voice is low, your stare dark and angry, your stance even more so and he can definitely see how badly he’s fucked up.

However, if you know Ransom well enough, then you can certainly see his change in attitude coming a mile off.

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth” he barks, his finger pointed directly in your face as he stalks closer to you. You find yourself stepping back, intimidation controlling you.

“Or what? You gonna make me? Judging by the way you’ve been acting you don’t have a leg to stand on” you say matter of factly as you shake your head in disgust at his nerve. How dare he boss you around when he’s the one who’s been out of line all this time.

“Maybe i will” he pokes his chin out as he stands tall, hands by his sides. He looks awfully confident as he inches closer. His index finger slips underneath your chin as he forces you to look directly into his menacing eyes.

You feel your breath catch in this moment. The knowledge of him doing whatever he wants to do to you just because he can is causing your entire body to shiver with anticipation. Despite how he makes you feel sometimes, you’re a sucker for him and everything he does.

He says jump, you say how high.

“What?” you murmur, wanting him to use his words just like he always makes you do.

“I said, maybe i will make you. Bet you’d love that, slut” you wince at the horrid nickname. It’s moments like these when you always try your hardest to avoid thinking about how his degradation of you makes you feel, your mind is objecting but your body is giving him the green light.

How is that?

How does he always manage to do that?

Must be some kind of mind control as you absentmindedly follow him through to the kitchen, his hand barely holding onto your own.

Before you can even make sense of things, he pushes you over the kitchen counter forcefully.

His hands splay across your ass cheeks as he lifts your dress up, bunching it at your waist before yanking your ruined panties down your bare legs. Next thing you know his fingers are toying at your dripping wet hole.

“Would ya look at this...you can try all you like to act up sweetheart, but you and i both know why this cunt of yours is soaked”

There he goes again, spewing filth to get you to give up the jig. You know you have to remain strong and stable but it’s so hard to do that when he....wait! Is he inserting his fingers? Fuck, they are so thick inside of you and two already? He must be a mind reader to know how this makes you feel, he must know what gets you keening because now here you are pushing back on them like a needy little brat.

“Pushing back on my fingers already? How pathetic” he tuts, his tone mocking as he chuckles a little. Still, his fingers remain as they twist and turn inside of you, scissoring you open before he adds a third.

Fuck, this is delicious torture. The man you’re supposed to be mad at but you can’t bring yourself to be when he makes your body feel so good.

The undeniable and powerful pleasure that he provides is just too good to quit. You could never let him go even if you actively tried to which by the way, you’ve attempted it a hundred times at least.

But every time you try he just lures you back in with his sexual prowess, his high libido and those dashing good looks. His sweet talk isn’t too bad either.

When will you ever learn to strengthen yourself up and walk away? Because he’s never going to change but oh shit, the way he’s pumping his fingers in and out rapidly is enough to cause the coil in your stomach to tighten one last time.

You move to meet his fingers, hips gyrating in circular motions slowly as you reach your hand between your legs.

Of course he pushes you hand away, insisting on using his own. His thumb presses down on your pulsating clit and the breathy groans that are escaping him let you know that he can sense your impending orgasm.

“Come on, baby. Cum for daddy” he urges, rubbing firm circles on you clit as his fingers curl inside of you, pushing against that spongy spot deep within. The one that will have you seeing stars in, 3...2...1.

“FUCK RANSOM” you scream out, hands gripping the kitchen counter so hard that it turns your knuckles white, his fingers continue to drive into you over and over as he rides you through your intense high.

“That’s my girl, just like that. Let go, baby” you can hear the smirk in his voice, the smugness he feels knowing that yet again he’s prevented you from walking away.

He’s convinced you to stay just by pleasuring you with his filthy touch, his sinful thick digits.

You may be weak, but with a man this good, a man capable of making your pretty little pussy cum over and over, why would you want to be anything else?

As soon as you come down from the high, you stand up, straightening your posture as you turn around to face him. The proud look covering his face lets you know that it’s all a game to him.

You pull your dress back down so that it’s covering up your modesty before pulling your panties up.

“What’s wrong, sad eyes?” he pokes, his hands resting either side of the counter, caging you in.

“You know what. You can’t just keep using sex to keep me around, Ransom” you huff in defeat, bothered by your lack of strong will.

“Sure i can, and what’s more, you’re gonna enjoy it too” he raises his eyebrows as he spins you back around, keeping your back arched by yanking your head backwards.

Every inch of your skin turns to gooseflesh as he trails his finger down the curve of your back before reaching your tail bone and pushing your dress up. He undoes the belt around his slacks before popping open the button and slipping them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection from its tight confines.

He slips your arousal covered panties to the side before smothering his eager red tip in your mouth watering pussy juices. Once he catches on your entrance he slams inside of you, but before you can jerk forward he hooks his arm into both of yours as he holds them behind you firmly.

You can never leave him, even if you truly wanted to, you’re stuck in an ongoing loop of orgasms and rough sex.

A frantic whimper slips off your tongue as his pace now renders on animalistic, hard and fast, just the way you both like it.

Of course the real pleasure comes from the slow and hard thrusts, the ones where he gently pokes at your g spot as he lays on top of you. Your legs wrapped around him, his face in the crook of your neck. But now is not the time for gentle and slow, now is the time for rushed and needy.

He’s desperate to achieve that orgasm just as much as he is to provide one for you. To feel your legs shaking as your head lulls back to rest on his chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head, it’s something he can never and will never get enough of. The way your walls are clamping down on him right now should be illegal as he can feel his balls tighten with the impending release.

“Fuck. Keep tightening those walls baby, let yourself go. Just. One. Last. Time” his voice desperate as his breathing turns ragged, matching yours. Your chest starts to rise and fall before your head falls back to rest on his chest just like he loves. He can feel your entire body tremble in his hold as he loosens his grip and pushes you over the counter.

“Gonna fucking cum, deep inside of this pussy. Gonna fill you up with my cum, baby” he growls, his voice deeper than before. He’s so painfully close, as are you.

And as you flutter around him one last time, he spills his load inside of you, causing you to stand up onto your tip toes with your head pressed into the marble counter.

He paints your walls with thick white ropes before twitching as he slows down his thrusts, then he stills his hips.

All that can be heard in this kitchen is heavy panting before the sound of your pussy squelching as he pulls out distracts you. He pulls his slacks back up, making quick work of his zip, button and belt whilst you toss your panties into the hamper by the laundry room and pull your dress back down before heading up to your bedroom.

New panties are a must.

“Now do you get it?” he asks, leaning on the open doorway to your room and causing you to turn and face him once your fresh panties are on.

“Get what?”

“Your mine and you always will be, until i say otherwise” he states, shocking you.

“I’m not your property, Ransom”

“Oh but you are, those soaked panties in that hamper prove it. So get used to it, because you’re never leaving me, especially not now”

You’re well and truly fucked... held captive by his intoxicating smell, intimidating demeanour and his undeniable skills in the bedroom.

Guess you should have known from the day you first met Hugh Ransom Drysdale that you’d never make it out alive if you were to run.

But the real question is, do you even want to leave him? He’s everything you detest but still you stay and continue to crave more of him.

And the answer to that question would be no, no you wouldn't want to leave.

He may be a prick, an arrogant asshole and a cocky son of a bitch but he is an addiction...your filthy addiction, and you wouldn’t have it or him any other way.

-------------------------

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one)

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to.

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you—

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible.

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here.

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction.

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.”

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning.

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.”

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either…

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow.

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are.

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?”

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it.

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you.

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air.

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter.

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more.

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.”

Touching.

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow.

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.”

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen.

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor.

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.”

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three.

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand.

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop.

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.

You scowl. “It’s fine.”

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose.

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums.

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel.

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face.

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep.

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.”

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin.

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward.

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.”

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you.

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers.

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw.

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers.

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not.

Whatever.

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare.

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need.

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp.

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet.

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides.

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away.

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off.

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no.

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head.

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat. Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts.

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter.

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise.

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans.

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world.

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

#well it aint that good but it honest work wkerkjehr #my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #fanfic #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #jangofctts

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author-morgan · 4 years ago

Note

Your work is so good, you should do this for a living! Your Ivarr stories are treasurers! Because quality Ivarr content that matches up exactly with my fantasies are rare, and I'm shit poet...

Could you please do one where the clan's dainty sweetheart secretly has the hots for Ivarr but avoids him because she doesn't know how to act around him.

He's also into her but thinks she hates him.

She gets terribly drunk for first time ever, throws herself at Ivarr...

Confused but also turned on, he internally struggles because doesn't want to take advantage of her.

He puts her to bed/or gets someone else to do it? Ubba? Because he doesn't trust himself to be alone with her?

Finds her when she's sober and not hungover, confronts her because drunken words are sober thoughts. She's embarrassed but they end up having really great sex!!!

i do write for a living, just not creative writing oh the joys of academia. apologies for the long wait, but here's more Ivarr! hope you enjoy! ♥ i kind of went overboard (like 3.3k words overboard) but it's Ivarr and i'm thirsty as hell for this bastard. Ivarr the Boneless x fem!Reader

EIVOR SHAKES HIS head. His arms crossed with a frown playing on his lips. He doesn’t see what you do —why of all the people in Midgard, you only have eyes for Ivarr the Boneless. Even Ubba would be a better choice, he thinks. It’s in Eivor’s nature to worry over and protect the ones he loves after all he’s lost. You are another example of Styrbjorn’s charity to those he considered friends, just as he is Sigurd’s brother in all but blood, you are their sister and have been for many years —becoming a temper for the two rowdy boys, favoring the healing arts over swordplay and battle.

Since Eivor’s initial meeting with Ivarr in Repton, there’s been something about his methods and outlook that sets Eivor at unease, even more so now that he’s caught Ivarr’s gaze lingering on you —like now during the autumn feast. Some jest, saying opposites attract, and while that seldom seems to be the truth, it is for you and Ivarr. He is cold iron, warm blood, a harsh winter —and you’re soft silks, a cool breeze, fresh spring blooms.

He’s seen the looks you share with Ivarr. Fleeting and flirtatious, but that is nigh all you share besides few rushed words in passing. Ivarr cuts an intimidating presence, and you’ve never been quite sure how to converse with warriors beyond your brothers. It’s nigh as difficult for Ivarr —all he knows is bloodlust and his fellow drengrs— finding the right words to say is not a battle he thinks he can win. There’s fondness between you, almost everyone can see it, but there are times when Ivarr is left to wonder if you truly like him or if your soft smiles and kind words are only a product of his reputation.

Ivarr’s feelings are clear to himself, though, especially as he watches you among the people of Ravensthorpe, partaking in the autumn festivities. Seeing you wear a crown of gold and amber leaves, dancing with Ceolbert to the drunken tune of Bragi and his tagelharpa with a tankard of Tekla’s mead in hand makes his heart beat faster, and his mouth go dry. He keeps to the benches, reminding himself that a drengr does not dance —at least not this type of dance.

The evening fades, but the festivities don’t. Soma claims her clan throws the best feasts, though you’re tempted to challenge the jarlskona for the title since Ravensthorpe has grown. You look around, searching for your brothers, but Sigurd has retired for the evening, and Eivor is slumped over on one of the tables, asleep —his hand still curled around the handle of his mead cup. Sighing, you find Ivarr’s gaze in the hazy air of the longhouse, half-shocked by the intensity and darkness, half-eager to return the lust-laden stare with your own.

Emboldened by the mead, you gather another horn and move across the longhouse where Ivarr sits. With a smile, you offer him the horn of mead before taking the empty spot on the bench next to him. He eyes you, curious, as he turns up the horn —downing the mead in a few gulps— and turns his attention to you. Spurred on by the moment, you lean closer, twisting to drape your legs across his thighs, squirming more than needed. “What game are you playing at, little dove?” Ivarr asks, his gaze dark and tone dangerous. You only smile, flitting your eyes up to meet his as you tip up your cup.

The soft plucking lyre strings and the low thrum of the tagelharpa are nigh enough to lull you to sleep coupled with the stillness. When you start to sway, both from the trance of the music and the heaviness of your eyes, Ivarr brings you closer to his side before deciding it best to see you off for the night —lest he is on the receiving end of Sigurd or Eivor’s anger. Ivarr pushes the bench back from the table, slipping his arms around your shoulders and beneath your knees, rising with you cradled in his arms —head resting on the leather of his shoulder pauldron.

When Ivarr places you on the straw and rag stuffed mattress of your cottage at the eastern edge of the settlement, you are not eager to part with him —the bulge tenting his britches tell you he’s not eager to leave you either. “Don’t” —you hiccup, lips turning into a pout as you lift the hem of your skirt to show the bare skin of your calves and beyond— “don’t you want me?”

Gods, Ivarr wants you. Just the thought of lying with you sets his blood hot and racing —like a giddy boy before his first battle. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted a woman more. But he can smell the mead on your breath and see the weariness hiding in your eyes. Ivarr knows it is the drink speaking for you, and he will not be the one to dishonor such a woman as you. “You’ve too much drink, little dove,” he chides in a rough chuckle, uncurling your fingers from their hold on his tunic. “Sleep,” Ivarr says, sitting back on his haunches —drinking in your appearance for a final time, “I doubt you’ll say the same thing come the morning.”

MORNING BREAKS AND so does your uneasy rest. The scent of smoke and mead clings to your skin and clothes, as does a dried sheen of sweat. Rising, you strip out of the soiled clothes and into a linen shift. With the hour still early and some only just retiring for bed from the feast, you gather up a cake of soap and boar-bristle brush, heading toward the small waterfall and pool at the northern edge of the settlement. Sparing a quick look around and now certain you’re alone, you strip, stepping into the clear, cool water with a sharp inhale.

Humming a soft song, you wring the suds from your hair and cross toward the bank where your clothes lay, but the snap of a branch underfoot stops you. Gaze darting around, you see him emerge from behind the trunk of a large tree near the stables. “Ivarr,” you greet, not shying away from his wandering gaze. His silence and the look in his eyes make you smile as you wade in his direction, stopping when the water brushes the underside of your breasts. “Are you watching me?” It’s a redundant question that needs no answer besides the hungry look in Ivarr the Boneless’s eyes.

“What you said last night–” he starts, voice surprisingly cautious, but you cut him off with a wave of a hand and scolding grin. “I was not that drunk, Ivarr.” Tekla’s mead had not dulled your senses, only gave you the courage to act on buried feelings. He lifts his brow and rakes his hand through his parted hair. “And yes. I meant it,” you tell him, wearing the same look now as you had last night nigh begging Ivarr to have his way with you. If Ivarr is surprised by the truth of your feelings, he hides it well. You motion to the pristine pool of water and bite down on your bottom lip before finding his gaze again. “Join me?”

Ties and buckles rustle as he hastily kicks away his boots, drops the fittings of his armor, and does away with his britches and tunic. Ivarr circles you like a wolf eyeing his wounded prey, and then he pounces, wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush against his chest. He leans forward, trailing his nose along your shoulder and neck —rough hands trailing up your sides and around to your breasts, squeezing them and teasing your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

When you gasp, he bites down on your shoulder and rocks his hips into your ass with a low chuckle. “You know who I am?” He means it as a warning —a warning of his bloodthirsty and unkind nature, that he is not a man to sing sweet songs or offer tender caresses. You already know that, having been privileged to witness Ivarr the Boneless in battle and know him outside of his craft.

“I do,” you answer, unwilling to shy away. He sucks in a sharp breath when you turn to face him, stepping closer and look up at him under lidded eyes with a wicked smile that sends blood rushing to his already half-hard cock. Careening toward Ivarr, you brush your lips across his jaw, settling one hand over the dark tattoo of Yggdrasil on his breast. “And if I wanted gentle,” you breathe at his ear, nipping at his neck, “I would fuck one of the Saxon monks.”

Ivarr laughs, grinning, but it falters when you reach below the water and squeeze his cock and balls, giving no doubt to your intentions or your wants. “Careful, little dove,” he hisses, tilting your chin up. He hunches, ashen hair half-falling before his face as he leans down and kisses you, warm, open-lipped, and intoxicating.

You pull back with a groan, and Ivarr chasing your lips, stopped only by your hands cupping his face —thumb tracing the deep scar on his cheek. “While giving the gods a show sounds delightful” —Ivarr’s lusty eyes take on a twinkle at the thought. Suddenly he’s picturing you splayed out on a Christian altar, spent from his love with his seed dripping from your cunt. His cock twitches, pressed tight against your belly— “Sigurd or Eivor finding us like this is less enticing.” Had it been anyone other than Ivarr, your brothers would have turned a blind eye, but neither have particularly liked the interest you and Ivarr show in one another.

Stepping back, you grip onto his wrist, staying his hands from their wandering assault, and pull him toward the waterfall and the small cave beyond. Before Ivarr has a chance to move again, you smile for him in the dim light, sliding an open hand to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer. With your lips pressed against his, Ivarr can only reciprocate —he parts your lips with his tongue, hands curling into your hips in a vice grip. But when the kiss breaks, you shimmy from his grasp and trail your lips to the dip in his neck —licking and laving.

“Having your lips on my skin is torture,” he inhales, hand fisting in your hair as you move down to the tattoo of Sleipnir at the center of his chest. You laugh softly and lean back, his eyes piercing through you. The smile on your lips is roguish, but you do not let up, making your way to his abdomen where a few small scars are clustered. Ivarr moans above you, and you haven’t even touched his aching, dripping cock yet. His hand reaches for your breasts, but you knock it away, having yearned for this moment for too long to let it slip away.

He titters at your enthusiasm and rolls his hips forward. Not dissuaded, you press your lips to the scar next to his navel, right below one of the dark runes tattooed on his abdomen. The hand still twined in your hair tightens, pushing you down to your knees. Ivarr’s legs are powerfully built, the muscles of his calves and thighs flex as you run your hand over them appreciatively, still finding small scars to trace and kisses, purposefully ignoring the hard cock pressed against his stomach. His hands clench as you kiss the skin of his thighs, your hair tickling the underside of his cock.

You smile at his surprised gasp when you drag the flat of your tongue along his cock, tracing along a vein running up the length of his shaft. Ivarr’s unable to hold back his groan when your fingers wrap around his girth, giving a few heavy strokes. And then, without warning, you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. He tastes of salt and iron and something forbidden and dangerous. Taking his cock as far as you can, you press your tongue against the underside, silently humming.

Above you, Ivarr chokes your name like a ragged prayer —it fills you with pride to know the son of Ragnar Lodbrok is coming apart at your hands and mouth, unable to say anything but your name. The lords of England may fear the whisper of his name, but right now, he is at your mercy.

Slowly, he begins to thrust himself into your mouth, but he makes no move to command your movements. Instead, his impatience wins over. He pulls you away from pleasuring him with your mouth. “Enough,” Ivarr says, his voice ragged as he crouches down, hand sliding from your hair and down to tweak one of your pebbled nipples, then lower still until he comes to the warmth between your thighs, slick with arousal. You whimper, gripping onto Ivarr’s shoulder when he pushes two fingers into your cunt, curling and thrusting. “On your knees, little dove,” he rasps. He warned you, and now he means to make good on his silent promise.

You struggle to gain your balance on the uneven ground of the small cave, but soon did, only to nigh lose it again when Ivarr slides the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds —thrice over before gripping onto your shoulder with one hand and guiding himself into your warmth with the other. Ivarr’s moan when he sinks inside you is breathless and airy, a misplaced sound from the likes of him. He grips you tight —one hand on your shoulder still, the other on your hip— holding your squirming body still as he eases his way into you. Your shoulders curl forward at the sudden wide spread of his cockhead into your body, fingers digging into the soft earth beneath you.

Ivarr pants against your shoulders —you can feel the open brush of his mouth along the sensitive skin of your spine and neck— as he draws his hips back and slams his cock back into you. You buck your hips back in time with his thrust, and Ivarr growls. You move with him as he fucks into you, squeezing with your inner muscles and whimpering in loud gasps. “Ivarr,” you chant, over-and-over.

He’s pounding hard immediately, giving in to the hunger that’s been consuming the both of you for far too long to be decent. His fingers are strong, streaking against your skin as his grip slides, something to discolor and bruise you by evening. But it feels so fucking good. You toss your head back, finding a glimpse of his face in this aching position with back arched, teeth shining in the low light, and eyes burning on you. He’s feral and ruined, and his fingers bend on your skin.

The building tension fades when he draws back, leaving you aching and empty. Ivarr spins you to face him as he reclines. “Ride me,” he commands, kissing you quickly, with an open mouth and teeth scraping your bottom lip. You pull away from the kiss, moving so you could sit atop him, straddling his hips, his back against a smoothed boulder. Breathless, Ivarr cannot be bothered with the loss of control —reckless abandon shines in your eyes, and he cannot help but grin as you slide down on his cock. He grunts enthralled at the feel of your warm cunt around him, walls clenching to feel every ridge and vein.

Moments pass, and you begin to move on top of Ivarr, rolling your hips into his. He groans, rough hands torn between holding onto your hips or pawing at your breasts. Instead, he decides to push himself up and let his lips attack your jaw and throat —biting and suckling— and annoyed at the slow in pace, Ivarr thrusts his hips up into yours, a sign to move faster. You don’t hesitate —lost to the exquisite bliss, clawing, desperate and eager. Holding Ivarr’s face in your hands, you try finding his lips with your own, but all you can do is moan and pant with him into his mouth, lost in the craven pleasure.

Ivarr bites hard in the crook of your shoulder and neck as he repeatedly drives his hips upward, chasing his and your releases. One of his hands slips between your bodies —his calloused thumb teasing your clit in a way that makes your hips stutter and body trembles, nails clawing into Ivarr’s shoulders. He grits his teeth, wondering if his little dove had broken skin. The burst of pain fades quickly as he watches your body bounce in time with his thrusts and listens to the moans and pants echoing off the cave walls and water.

He knows he’s close, his pants ragged and thrusts sloppy and desperate. The hitch in your breathing when he presses his thumb against your clit tells him you’re close to. It’s the boiling heat between you that takes hold, curling your toes and parting your lips in a silent throe, hands digging into Ivarr’s biceps as he chases his pleasure —teeth bared and bright eyes burning. Several thrusts later, his body tenses, and a dull warmth spreads between your connected bodies, and still, he is not done with the thrill of how you tremble and whine above him, but the rhythm soon slows, and you fall forward, resting your head on Ivarr’s chest.

You sit there, savoring the last twinges of carnal gratification, with your bodies rising and falling as you breathe in unison. And when the haze clears, you trace the small scars near his shoulders and follow the blue-black runes tattooed on his middle.

After what feels like an eternity, you feel him shift underneath you, sitting up on his hands. Ivarr glances over you —the small purple marks at the base of your neck from his lips and teeth, how your nipples are still hard, begging to have his mouth on them, and how your bodies are still connected. His cock is soft now, his seed seeping from your cunt and drying on your thighs —Ivarr thinks it a glorious sight. He hisses as he pulls himself out of your warmth, slowly, relishing in the gasps and whimpers you make at the resultant empty feeling it leaves between your thighs.

With flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you tell him you must go —this escapade would have already made you late for your daily duties, and the last thing you wish is for one of your brothers or Valka to find you in this state. He follows you from the cave behind the waterfall, back to the bank where his and your clothes are strewn. Gentler than you’d imagine, Ivarr kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, before cupping your face with strong, rough fingers and moving your lips back to his. You let him move you, kissing you back, smiling against his mouth. “Come to me at nightfall,” you breathe against his lips, parting to gather up your clothes and shoes.

Ivarr grins, swatting your ass before pulling you against his chest, keeping you from reaching for your linen shift —his chin resting on your shoulder as his hand slides between your legs and two fingers sinking into your cunt, still slick with your essence and his seed. “That eager for my cock again, little dove?” He laughs.

He’s silenced when you grind back into his hips with a glint of mischief shining in your eyes. Ivarr lets you go, though reluctant, and watches you dress from the corner of his eye. It’s impulse driving you when you decide duties can wait. Smiling, you grip onto Ivarr’s wrist —he’s only half-dressed in his britches and boots, tunic in hand— and drag him away from the waterfall and toward your home in the settlement. Consequences be damned. It feels as though the gods made you and Ivarr for one another, and you aren’t willing to let another moment be wasted.

[taglist: @elizabethroestone @kitkitvm @elluvians @fullmoonwolfer1 @ghostieisalone @boodaga @southsideslutt @dynamite-with-a-lazerbeam @lizlovecraft @heathensith @alexisp787 @nobodyydobon @certifiedlittleshit ] if your name is italicized, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you. if you want to be added to my taglist for Ivarr, just let me know in the replies or a DM!

#Ivarr #Ivarr the Boneless #Ivarr Ragnarsson #Ivarr x Reader #Ivarr the Boneless x Reader #Ivarr Ragnarsson x Reader #Ivarr Imagine #Ivarr Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #my writing #requested #alexisp787 #i found it really hard to write an 'embarassed' reader when it came to fucking Ivarr #so I hope you don't mind that little change #its partly because i would jump that man #and let him do unspeakable things to me

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ohheyitsokay · 4 years ago

Text

spectators

part 8 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

paring: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.6k

warnings: strong language, kissing, enough fluff for a rich person chair

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the Frankie and you appease the people who have been invested in their relationship this whole time.

Pope threw the ball straight up, and caught it.

Then he did it again – he was thinking.

Right hand, then left. Right, left. The ball was in the air less and less time, but the speed didn’t increase. Eventually he was just tossing it straight into his own palm, slowly, thoughtfully, his gaze fixed somewhere far away.

Frankie watched, not even nervous. Of all the reactions he could’ve predicted this was more or less what he expected.

“I’m proud of you,” this throw was for Catfish.

“Thanks.” He caught it.

“You’re fucking lucky,” Pope grinned.

“I know.” Frankie threw it back.

“When is the next date?” Benny plucked it out of the air, a strange look in his eyes. The rest of the team was already back in the locker rooms, but they had held Frankie back, curious. He had spent the morning practice practically glowing, playing well, but suspiciously distracted. Initially, there was an onslaught of teasing and questions and exaggerated berating, but now they had quieted, actually processing this, as friends. Will look satisfied, happy even, but Frankie kicked himself, remembering too late that Ben’s most recent romance hadn’t worked out.

“Tonight – she thinks the parties are bad news,” he said it carefully - Ironhead had been the one to start sharing their pasts with you, but it was really out there now, for you to take or leave. He moved past them towards the showers and he heard Tom snort, making an exaggerated whipping sound. The older man had listened to his abbreviated story with a stoic face, just raised eyebrows and his arms crossed. Frankie’s jaw clenched, wondering if he should retort, but he didn’t get the chance.

It was quiet, but Will added, “She’s not wrong,” in that even, reasonable tone of his. The tension fell, and then rose, sharply, a testament to the respect they all held for the first-baseman's opinion. Trudging through the hallway suddenly felt too fast, too dangerous, like the conversation should’ve stayed outside. A long moment filled only by footsteps as they all considered, before Ben spoke.

“Can I come?” Frankie stopped walking, turning incredulously and Santi smacked the rookie on the back of his head. Benny glared, but without any real bite. “Ow, fuck you - I’d rather hang out than go to another one of those stupid parties, wouldn’t you?” He looked defiant, meeting each of their eyes and gesturing with both of his arms, goading them to answer him, to disagree.

No one did, not even Tom, who glowered, the leather of his glove folded into deep wrinkles. Will’s blue eyes met the brown of Santi’s, and his mouth hooked into a smile. Deep laughter went a long way to thawing tension when it was genuine, and it was.

“Ben, you can’t crash Fish's date, we can do something else,” Will took his own turn smacking his brother but it was a bit of a bold statement. There were days when it felt like they really couldn’t so anything else, like there wasn’t other options that felt real – but they should be able to.

Frankie dragged a hand over his face before groaning a muffled, “Wait,” and sighing. He cursed, not even aware of what language it was in, occupied by the thought of what you would say if you were here. It was ridiculous but it felt right, and it was an opportunity for him to slow down again. “Honestly she would probably love if you guys hung out.”

There was a beat, where they stared at him, before the debate began. It didn’t last long, hushing as they reached the locker room, but by the time they were clean and dried and settled, it was decided. There really wasn’t a downside to it and really, they were all figuring you out, too. The lure of your smiles and home cooked food far outweighed the temptation of loud music and sticky floors and girls too tipsy to talk with, at least this time.

In the lull between the practice and the game, Frankie tried not to jump whenever his phone made a noise. One date in, and he was already daydreaming about just driving to your house and just kissing you until one of you had somewhere better to be. But you had a job, and things to finish so you had time for his game that evening, and he was acutely aware that while you had let that incredible evening – yesterday? – happen, he would need to slow down. He had already told you, he wanted to do this right.

He confirmed the plans for the evening, smiling as you agreed to host all his friends, and then tossed his phone into his bag. Then put a jacket on top of the bag, folded twice so it balanced precariously. When it buzzed he made himself take a lap around the building, and wanted to bang his head against the wall when it was a random email.

And all evening the thought of you. The game rolled in, and he squatted bitterly, annoyed his position left his back to the crowd. It meant he couldn’t look for you, and James. Logically he knew, even if you had told him your exact seats, he wouldn’t be able to make you out unless you were close, but that didn’t stop him from wishful thinking.

Catch, catch, walk, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

The game built, and tensions were high as the scores stayed close and the crowd whispered about playoffs. It was the worst time for him to be batting, the pressure too high to be on the shoulders of a catcher, but it couldn’t be helped.

He walked out, listening to the blast of an old song too familiar to recognize, and the rumble of the announcer.

Frankie looked towards the crowd, knowing you were out there and fruitlessly wishing he could see you. He stopped at the plate, shifting on the balls of his feet, feeling the dirt under his cleats and trying to imagine your eyes on him. His hands tightened, loosened, tightened again, the wrap on the handle of the bat protested the movement, and he tried to hear you whispering his name.

You were cheering for him, right?

The ball hit his bat with a satisfying crack, and he didn’t watch where it went before he ran.

James was stalling.

You were supposed to drive him home, as always, but after spending most of the game filling him in about you and Francisco, there was no convincing him to move faster.

He wanted to see the man who had kissed his granddaughter – more than once! – and look him over again. The sweet, elderly man could be quite determined, especially when it involved two of his favorite people in the whole world. It meant waiting until the crowds fled and dodging staff who would no doubt shoo you away, but the eagerness on his little, wrinkled face made him impossible to deny.

“Jimbo, you’ve already met him,” you tried again, listening to the shrieks of a fangirl. After the surprising home run, the catcher was in high demand, and it made your stomach twist.

You had woken up this morning still shy and baffled at what you were to him, what was happening. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and you talked a lot, but not about... you, together. But James was certain, this was it, and he wanted to look Francisco in the eyes before he gave you his blessing.

His hand was in your elbow and you tugged, again, before withering under his look. He began lecturing you, about this being his job and you offered a compromise. This time, you weren’t invited, but you guided him towards the lobby where friends and family met the players, and when they let you in, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

Santiago found you first, and both of you got big hugs from him and the Miller boys, as they told you animatedly about how much hell they gave Frankie for bringing you home the first date. You barely got a word in, but you grinned as James joined their indignation.

In truth, your eyes were looking for Frankie, and you chided yourself at how much you ached for him, as always.

After a few minutes, Will pushed you towards the locker room, and you shot him a grateful smile. All the other players were clear, he told you, Frankie was being a baby about facing the fans. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, confirming that he was at loathe to run into anyone but you. They kept your grandfather occupied, and you knew they were in good hands as he was insisting he was hosting game night, that night.

Ducking into the hall, you followed the tile and the gaudy decorations, and found him.

Frankie, your Francisco was freshly showered, tshirt and jeans marked with drips from his curls, fiddling with his phone like he was waiting for you to text back. When he saw you, he dropped it into his bag, and your arms and eyes were suddenly full of him.

It was a crushing hug, he was eager and almost bursting with pride. You made a noise, you know you did, when only your toes were touching the ground, but he didn’t spin you around before he set you down.

He tried to pull away, he really did, but he couldn’t help but stay close, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks were flushed as you congratulated him, telling him admiringly about how exciting his home run was.

Feeling him against you again was surreal. Mere weeks ago you had been watching him from a distance, and then burying ridiculous daydreams under the rug in your mind. And yet here he was, looking at you with the same softness as he had the night before, without regret, and like reality was better than a dream.

When he asked why and how you were here – not that he was complaining, you told him and explained about James. He only smiled, shifting closer to you again, telling you after all you put up with yesterday, he could certainly do this for you.

There was a pause, the air both clear and thick at the same time, and his head tilted, hands shifting on your hips. Thoughts of your family and friends and food slipped from your mind as his face drew closer, the tip of his nose tapping yours.

Brown eyes, searching your face, you almost felt like you could count his eye lashes. Frankie had little freckles, faint, spattered across the tan skin of his neck and face, and there were sweet little sparse patches in his beard.

“You know, we wont get any time alone, tonight.”

His tone was thoughtful, but he said it like he almost didn’t hear himself, and you could feel the edges of the words against your lips.

The hand on your hip slid up. Up and up, until it settled on the back of your head and he was pressing into you. Frankie’s kisses were deep and slow, like he couldn’t believe last night was not a figment of his imagination, and you wound your arms around him before you got lost in them. There were words in them, distant proclamations and promises and you pulled him into you, yearning to hear them clearly.

It could’ve been a minute or half an hour, between that moment and when he pulled away. With shock, you realized you had been pushed against the locker with his name on it, and his palm was cushioning your head.

There was a clatter of aluminum against the floor, and you jumped like caught teenagers. Then you were firmly planted on the ground again, and Frankie was turned around, shielding you like it was already instinct. Neither of you saw anyone, and his laughter was bashful and sweet. When he said you should probably go, and took your hand, you heard a genuine roughness in his voice.

Behind another row of lockers, Molly whispered into Tom’s neck, “Do you need to go, too? There’s that party tonight.” And he shrugged.

The environment at James' home was completely different than last time they were there. Things were less clean, there was less food, and everyone was twice as comfortable.

It was strange, what really knowing them did - they teased you more, and breathed easier, as if they had never met someone who hadn’t minded it all.

“Juice packets?” Will asked, confused at the drink selection, and you smiled when Santi winked at you. Tom hadn’t come but you thought it would be best to play it safe. It was important to you, that if they were choosing this over a party that it was lighthearted, sincere and simple.

“I just thought it would be fun,” you gave as your only explanation and he didn’t question it further. He did drink them three at a time, though, and when you laughed, you swore you saw his smile lines.

Benny was on your team, yelling and by far the most competitive, Santi and Will’s luck encouraging it every step of the way. They bickered like kids, bellowing laughter and rambunctious celebrations included. You made an extra rule – anyone who hit you with a pillow or playing piece had to buy you ice cream, next time the opportunity came up.

If should’ve been distracting, how James had pulled Frankie to the side to talk, but it warmed your heart. You didn’t need to swoop in and rescue him – they were talking like old friends, like Frankie was genuinely interested and invested in your beloved grandfather.

Every once in awhile, he would look up and meet your eyes, watching you with his friends with one corner of his mouth pulling higher. Once, you blew him a kiss and he scrunched his nose, like it hit him between the eyes.

Later, you scooted over to them, trying to steal him back, James leaned over and ruffled your hair before sternly, adorably telling you to let him have his turn with Frankie. When Frankie joined him, jokingly telling you to back off, you thought if it didn’t work out with him, Jimbo would adopt him.

The night stretched beautifully late, before your grandfather lectured them on the importance of sleep and Benny spun you around in victory. There were stars in the sky, and you listened to their chatter fade as they piled into their cars, surprised at how affectionate you felt for all of them, after so little time and such unlikely circumstances.

Frankie had stayed back, accepting goodbye hugs, and leaning against your car as you waved the other’s off. Of course, you asked, but he didn’t tell you what they talked about and he didn’t linger as long as you had hoped he would.

His kiss was sweet and chaste, like he knew he had all the time in the world.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen @stuckontheceiling

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

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prettyboybarzal · 4 years ago

Text

Ride

A/N: I think about Nolan’s thighs 24/7, so this is super self-indulgent... But I know y’all are hoes for his thighs too, so it’s also a gift (especially a gift for @bandgirlsclub). This is short and probably not extremely well written, but please enjoy these words and thoughts put to paper!!! ✨ P.S. Maybe someday I’ll write a full Pat fic. Maybe. (Probably.)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Thigh riding and weed smoking (an ideal day if you ask me lmfao bye)

Masterlist

Nolan wasn’t being fair. He knew what he was doing in those short shorts, thigh tattoo on display. He knew that you wouldn’t be able to pry your eyes off the ink decorating his muscled leg. He did this on purpose. And the nerve of him to do it in front of your friends who had no clue you’d been hooking up while away in Philly.

You grew up together in Winnipeg and spent your summers much like you were spending your current one, with friends around a pool or skating around town on rollerblades. You’d always had a small crush on him. His carefree attitude and dry sense of humor made you feel safe, and in return, he liked your calming nature and the fact that you weren’t nearly as loud as your other friends.

When you called him to tell him you’d accepted a job in Philly, you didn’t expect him to become such a staple in your life. But he was there the day you landed to pick you up, and it felt like you hadn’t gone a day without seeing him since.

It took until the Flyers New Years’ party for your feelings to bubble to the surface. The night started with one too many glasses of Champagne and ended with Nolan between your thighs in more ways than one. It became a weekly occurrence at least, fucking Nolan, and when the season came to an end, you decided to put things to bed, at least until you were back in Philadelphia.

But it was getting really fucking hard to ignore how badly you wanted to rip his clothes off.

Nolan was a whole different person in Winnipeg. He was confident and cocky. He undressed you with his eyes every time you walked into a room and whenever he got you alone, he whispered all the dirty little things he wanted to do to you. It never got far, though, with your friends always in tow, and the two of you were perpetually sexually frustrated.

Especially with him in those short shorts.

“Anyone wanna smoke?” you asked, standing from the lounge chair in your childhood best friend’s yard. It was a Saturday in June which meant the entire friend group was together, rotting the day away around her pool.

Nolan stood abruptly to follow you, but the others declined the invite and you felt butterflies in your stomach as you slipped into the pool house and he followed. He paid you no special attention as he plopped onto the sofa in the middle of the room, but he watched as you settled down on the other end, making sure to leave space between you.

He liked to watch you roll joints. Watching your fingers move deftly over the rolling paper and your tongue swipe along it to keep it packed together turned him on every time without fail. He liked it when you placed the joint in your mouth and let it hang there while you reached for the lighter.

After taking your first hit, you handed it off to him and then came the worst part about smoking with him— actually watching him smoke. He always looked good with smoke rolling off his lips, but he looked great doing it shirtless with his thighs on full display in those shorts that left little to the imagination.

“C’mere,” he murmured, nodding his head to get you to come closer after he’d noticed you staring. You rolled your eyes at him. “C’mon, YN. You’ve been in that little bikini all day and I haven’t even been able to touch you. It’s not fair.”

“I’m not fair?” you asked incredulously. “Look at you! You’re in the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen you wear, showing off your thighs and your fucking tattoos. You did that on purpose. You’re the one playing games.”

Nolan smiled as he pulled another hit from the joint in his hand.

“So, it worked,” he stated, extending the joint to you. You snatched it, careful not to allow your fingers to touch, and rolled your eyes as he leaned back against the couch and spread his legs. He flexed his thighs a bit and took a glance to find you staring. “They look good, huh? I’ve been putting in some overtime work this summer.”

You tore your eyes away and blew a cloud of smoke out towards the window.

“Just let me touch you,” he groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. “You haven’t let me touch you since we left Philly.”

“Because our friends are always right outside!” you whisper-shouted, pointing a finger towards the door. He laughed. “I don’t need you to get me all worked up and then not follow through because we’re interrupted by them, or we have to stop because we have plans with them, so no.”

You stood from the couch to get a water bottle for your cotton mouth and he let you go, staring at your ass as you went. You grabbed two bottles and handed him one as you walked over, but he didn’t open it. Instead, he dropped it to the couch and grabbed your wrist, tugging you down into his lap and pulling your legs around so you were straddling his waist.

“Patty,” you warned, pushing his chest away. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pinned you to his chest.

“Who says I won’t follow through and make you cum right now?”

“I’m not getting naked when any of them could walk in.”

“I don’t need you to get naked,” he murmured against the skin of your collarbone. His finger slipping beneath the strap on your shoulder. He pushed it down and kissed the skin where it once was. “Besides, you’re already naked enough.”

He moved his kisses to the column of your throat and smiled against your skin as you lulled your head back, then leaned up to capture more of your skin beneath his lips before sitting up and adjusting himself to pull a leg out from beneath you so that you were straddling one of his thighs. You glanced down, eyes catching on the ink just below your core.

“Nolan.”

“What’s up, angel?” he asked, eyes still on your scantily clad pussy. Your whine captured his attention, eyes gazing up finally. Your bottom lip was drawn between your teeth, joint resting between your index finger and thumb. “You want me to make you cum?”

“Please.”

His hands fell to your waist, gripping tightly as he began to guide you along his thigh. You placed the joint between your lips as your rode him and took a long hit. He snatched it a moment later to replace it with a kiss, tongue swiping along your lip as you continued to rub your core against him.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praised as he watched you grind against him. “I could watch you get yourself off on my thigh all day.” You felt his muscles ripple beneath your pussy and moaned loudly, forehead falling to his shoulder. His hands reattached to your hips and he held you tighter as he flexed beneath you. “You like that?”

“Fuck, Nolan,” you rushed out. “Yes!”

“Be quiet,” he barked, hands holding you in place on his thigh, halting your movements. You whimpered. “You don’t want them coming in here, right? You want to cum?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, detaching his hands and leaning back against the couch again. “Go ahead. Let me see you.”

You braced your hands against his chest as you slid along his thigh, slowly at first. The cockiness exuding from him as he watched you with hooded eyes and the joint between his lips heightened your senses. He looked so good, so in control of himself while you had absolutely no control, and you loved being watched by him.

It felt otherworldly, riding his thigh while high. You couldn’t help but think about how it would feel to fuck him while stoned, to feel him fill you up with that joint hanging from his lips.

He noticed that your hips begin to stutter and reached out to help you. His fingers gripped your waist, sure to leave bruises for the morning, and he set a pace that was a bit quicker than how you’d started out. He knew you were closer now, heard it in your panting and the whimpers that filled the room. With each grinding movement, he flexed beneath you and received soft exclamations of how good it felt.

“I’m s- so close,” you said, breathlessly. He held you tightly to his thigh as you began to lose the rest of what little control you had. “F-fuck, oh my—Nolan.”

“I wanna see you cum,” he spoke and, finally, you were over the edge. You threw your head back with a guttural moan and he helped you through the orgasm that washed over you by continuing to guide your core along his thigh. “Didn’t know you were such a slut for my thighs. I’d’ve shown them off for you a long time ago.”

You were moaning into his neck as softly as you could while he continued sliding your core along his muscles and he smiled softly when he saw the shake of your legs from the aftershock.

“Nolan, please.”

“Please?”

“Please stop,” you sighed out. He chuckled darkly and released the grip he had on your waist to wrap his arms around you. He held you against his chest, placing kisses along your shoulder as the rise and fall of your chest slowed and you finally caught your breath. “Fuck.”

“That was hot,” he spoke. You leaned back, smile on your face. “I’m never skipping leg day ever again.”

“Please don’t,” you said, snatching the almost finished joint from his hand for one last pull. He watched you, eyes dark and trained on your lips. You placed it on a nearby ashtray and stood slowly, hoping your legs wouldn’t resemble that of a newborn giraffe. Thankfully, Nolan’s hand shot out to steady you in case.

“You sure you’re ready to go out there?”

“I think the real question is, are you?” you asked, directing your gaze at the bulge in his shorts. He stood, sliding a hand into his shorts to fix himself.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he answered, blush rising to his cheeks.

You stepped forward, dropping one hand over the front of his shorts, fingers curling over his member. He sucked in a breath, eyes blown wide, cheeks bright red.

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, I can take care of this later.”

#nhl smut #nolan patrick blurb #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #mk writes

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sassyhobbits · 4 years ago

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Guess I lied “Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.” someone from the Cadre telling this to Fen and him breaking apart and crying and dying I want him to suffer

had to so this one. always happy to write about my boy fen!!! luv him

heres day 4!!!

~~~

“Are you sure you want to make that move?”

“Yes. No. Fuck. What’s wrong with this move?”

“Why the hell would I tell you? I’m trying to win.”

Aelin laughed at the stormy look on Fenrys’ face as his dark gaze studied the chess board before them intently. She knew he was determined to beat her for once. She had been on a winning streak lately.

Aelin settled in her seat before the fire, studying the board before them. It was a beautiful set, something she had bought Rowan for Yulemas the year before. Her husband loved the game, but loathed buying anything for himself. She knew he was pleased to have such a nice set, though he tried to play it casual. They played together at least one night a week. Rowan was terribly good at the game. Three hundred years of practice of both chess and military strategy had made him a truly formidable opponent. Aelin had yet to beat him, though she had been getting better.

Fenrys, however, she beat over half the time. Learning from Rowan had given her an edge.

The male across from her finally picked up a knight and moved it, capturing one of Aelin’s pawns that had been protecting her king. She raised a brow at him. “Really, Fenrys?”

“What? You were too well defended.”

Aelin tutted and shook her head. “Short-sighted once again, my friend.” She reached out and moved her queen on it diagonal, placing it down firmly and smirking at Fenrys. “Check mate.”

A slew of terribly, dirty curses streamed from Fenrys’ mouth as he knocked over his king. He shook his head, studying the board. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve always been good at keeping my schemes to myself,” Aelin shrugged. “That’s all chess is, anyway. Schemes.”

He cursed once more. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Fenrys sighed, accepting his defeat, reaching over to the bottle of wine they had been working through and topping off both of their glasses.

Aelin enjoyed having her friend so close. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide and Lorcan visited Orynth when they could, though they were busy running their own territories. Dorian and Chaol were in Adarlan, Manon rebuilding the Witch Kingdom. Even Fenrys had been traveling until recently. She had truly missed her companion.

They spoke and joked between one another for a few more moments before the door to the parlor opened. Aelin recognized her mate’s scent without needing to look back, even beneath all the sweat.

She sensed his presence as he stopped by where she sat, tilting her head up and smiling at him. His silver hair was in disarray from training with the guards that evening, but his green eyes were bright as he looked to her and then to the board.

Her husband studied it with a general’s intent for a few moments before a smile curled on his lips, looking towards Aelin with pride glimmering in his eyes. Good job, Fireheart, he seemed to say before pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.

Aelin’s nose crinkled at the smell of him. “You, husband mine, are in desperate need of a bath.”

“I agree,” Fenrys added. “My eyes are watering.”

Rowan looked to him dryly, though it held no venom at the younger male’s teasing.

Aelin began asking him about how the training had gone. They had a recent surge of new recruits and though many of them had potential, they were rough around the edges. Aelin knew that if anyone could whip them into shape, it would be Rowan.

Aelin fell into the lull of conversation, and it wasn’t until a while later that she noted a strange quietness coming from across from her. Fenrys wasn’t one to hold his tongue for an extended period of time. She glanced away from Rowan, looking towards the male across from her. Fenrys’ face was somber, staring hard into the fire that made his dark skin glow. His brows were pinched together, lips pressed tight, eyes glazed. Somewhere far away.

Rowan followed her gaze, ceasing his report to study his comrade.

It took a few moments for Fenrys to recognize the sudden silence, blinking away the haunted look in his eyes before glancing towards the king and queen before him, as if he could feel their gazes.

Something in Aelin’s chest clenched. She knew what the look meant, had worn it herself plenty of times. Her head tilted to the side before asking softly, “Where did you go, my friend?”

The smile that slashed Fenrys’ face came just a fraction of a moment too late, confirming that whatever he had been remembering had shaken him more than he could admit.

“I’m just tired. Losing to you takes more energy than you would think,” Fenrys sighed, trying to muster some bravado into his voice, though Aelin saw right through it. “I think I’ll head off to bed.”

Aelin watched her friend warily as he pushed to his feet, nodding a brief farewell before heading towards the door. She glanced up at her husband, seeing a familiar look of concern on his handsome face. It was evident that the White Wolf of Doranelle was not alright.

…

Once Fenrys deemed himself an appropriate distance from where the king and queen sat in the parlor, he allowed himself to let go. His shoulders curved in, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he rested his back against a cool stone wall and hung his head in his hands.

Everything had been going well. He had spent the day assisting his queen with her duties while Rowan worked with the guards. He was fine through dinner, through their game of chess. Maybe it was because he had kept himself thoroughly distracted but… when he had let his mind quiet, even for a moment, he had felt himself drift away.

One moment he was laughing and teasing with Aelin, a smile lighting the queen’s face. The next, he heard echoes of her screams of agony, flashes of Cairn carving her up bit by bit while he had to sit aside and do nothing. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, spiraling down into the darkest part of his memories: Aelin sobbing in that iron coffin, the sight of Connall spilling his own blood, the feel of Maeve’s cold, pale hands on his body.

It happened from time to time. The memories getting the better of him. He always tried to play it off to the best of his abilities, making himself flash an easy smile to hide the vulnerability. He knew that the others suffered from similar afflictions, knew his queen was still haunted by nightmares. There were nights when he would wake to a knock on his door only to find Aelin standing on the other side, eyes hollow in a way Fenrys recognized. Sometimes she would talk about it, others she would just sit silently in his presence. The only person who truly had an inkling of what she had suffered for those two months. He knew Rowan still feared losing his mate, still saw the flash of panic in his eyes when he couldn’t find her in the sprawling palace, even though she was always safe and content. It was just… difficult to shake off those feelings.

And yet… Fenrys never wanted to burden his already burdened friends with his own troubles. He knew they would protest that description. Burden. They wouldn’t feel that way about it but… he did.

Fenrys was lost in his thoughts, all of them dark and swirling like a storm through his head. It distracted him enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching until the purposeful scuff of a boot over stone caught his attention.

Fenrys raised his head, finding Rowan standing before him, green eyes studying him carefully. He stood straighter, forcing a wobbly smile to his lips.

“You miss me already?” Fenrys said, though his voice betrayed him, crackling towards the end.

Rowan’s expression turned sympathetic, a look Fenrys had never seen on his commander’s face until he had met Aelin. He stood a step closer.

“You doing alright there, pup?”

Fenrys shrugged, still trying to hold on to some semblance of nonchalance. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Rowan didn’t press him right away, sliding his hands into the pockets of his dirty trousers. “Your quick departure made my wife quite worried about you.”

“Aelin has enough on her plate. She doesn’t need to worry about me too.”

“I’m worried about you as well, Fenrys.”

Fenrys blinked, sure he had heard the king consort incorrectly. Rowan had certainly warmed up since he fell in love with Aelin, but he was still rather stoic most of the time. He saved most of his compassion for the woman he loved. Rowan wasn’t cruel to Fenrys, he never had been. Though he was a massive bastard and a pain in his ass once upon a time but… he had never reached out like this.

It seemed that Rowan took his stunned silence as a cue to continue.

“You try to hide it, but I can see it in your eyes. The pain.” Rowan’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “I did the same thing for years.”

“Yeah, but you took it out on the rest of us poor soul.”

Rowan gave a dry chuckle. “That I did. But you know what helped me heal?”

“Bedding your stunning wife?”

Rowan smacked him softly on the side of the head. Rightly deserved, Fenrys knew. He was being immature.

“I’m serious, boyo,” Rowan said lowly. “I didn’t start coming out of that darkness until I started opening up. Talking. Confiding in people who knew what I felt and what I had gone through.”

Fenrys rubbed at his eyes before rasping, “I don’t know where to start. I don’t want to burden you. Burden Aelin.”

“Aelin loves you,” Rowan said plainly. “She would never feel burdened if you reached out to her. You’re her friend. You’re my friend too, Fen. We’re always going to be here for you.”

Fenrys nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t fail him. He was grateful for the friends, family, and support he had found in the recent years. This life that he had now… he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He was silent for a few more moments, simply looking down at his boots and trying to banish the lump clogged in his throat. Rowan, the perceptive bastard, simply cocked his head to the side and met his gaze.

“Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”

It was with those words that Fenrys broke. The tears began falling freely down his cheeks, blurring his vision.

“There are moments where I forget where I am,” Fenrys confessed. “When I get so lost in the worst of the memories that I fear there’s no way out. I don’t know how to escape, how to be free of it. At times, I feel like I’m drowning.”

Fenrys didn’t bother to try and smother the tears, the shaking breaths he took. He knew Rowan was right. Holding everything in certainly didn’t help. He wasn’t sure if crying in the halls of Orynth would do much either but-

His train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt when he felt arms wrapped around him. Fenrys blinked once, sure he was hallucinating. But no. It was real. Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius was actually hugging him.

He was frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Some older part of him hissed that it was a trick, that the moment he let his guard down Rowan would put him in a headlock as part of a training exercise. But, Fenrys also knew that the cold and calculating commander of his past was no more.

Slowly, Fenrys reached up and returned the embrace.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything, until Fenrys whispered, “Thank you, brother.”

Another few heartbeats passed before Fenrys felt another pair of arms wrap around his torso from behind, the scent of jasmine and ashes tickling his nose. Aelin.

“You were snooping that entire time, weren’t you?” Fenrys asked with a tiny laugh.

“Of course I was,” the queen mumbled against his back. “How else am I supposed to stay three steps ahead of everyone if I don’t snoop?”

Fenrys chuckled lightly, already feeling lighter than he had before. He was a lucky bastard to have such friendship and support in his life. And, although he was still healing, he knew they were as well.

They would find the path to the light. Together.

#idek what to tag this one #like its kinda #rowaelin #but mostly #fenrys moonbeam #my writing #tog

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

four times you talked about having a baby + one time you did - k. hayes

a/n: here’s a very cute fluffy 4+1 from my old blog! :)

You watched Kevin on the floor, listening to the babbling toddler in front of him, laughing along with whatever his niece was trying to tell him. His sister had made the trip down to New York, and was out getting lunch with a friend while you and Kevin had offered to babysit. It was the first time you were meeting any members of his family, and you’d only been dating for a few months - but watching Kevin with his niece was doing something to you.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, snapping a photo of the two, “This is too cute.”

“You’re too cute,” Kevin says instantly, his niece walking over to you to be picked up, a grin finding its way to Kevin’s face.

You pick her up kissing the top of her forehead, “I think she’s cuter than both of us.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Kevin’s apartment, playing house with his niece. Watching Kevin run around his apartment with his niece was straight up endearing, and you were happy that she liked you too. She’d fallen asleep snuggled between you and Kevin, a couple of goldfish stuck to her Uncle’s shirt and she rested on your lap. By the time Kevin’s sister and her headed back to their hotel, you were absolutely exhausted - not even considering the idea of headed to your own place and opting to crash at Kevin’s.

“Do you think you want kids?” Kevin asks, plopping down next to you into bed, blue eyes looking at you full of hope.

You’d never really thought much about having kids, just thinking that at the time you were too young. It was something you wanted one day but you didn’t know when you wanted that. You’d just started your career and your relationship with Kevin was new but the way he took care of his niece and the way he always took care of you was starting to make you think a little differently.

“Yeah, one day. Don’t get any ideas though,” You scold, waving your finger at Kevin.

“I know, but one day sounds good,” Kevin says, pulling you into his chest.

Kevin lulls you to sleep that night, talking about the future he wants with you. You’d get married, Kevin would prefer in Boston but he’d let you pick regardless. Maybe you’d move to the suburbs, get a house outside of the city with a yard, so you could have some space for your future children. But he told you he’d be okay staying in the city if that’s what you wanted to do. It was romantic to hear him talk about your future like that, deciding that he would just come for the ride.

II.

Kevin’s large hands were tying your skates, while you looked down at him in his stall at MSG. It was Christmas and with Christmas came the family skate that you’d grown to love. The first year, you were terrified, considering you didn’t even know how to skate and you’d only met a handful of Kevin’s teammates.

“Do you think this will be our last one here?” You whisper, low enough so none of his teammates would hear you.

It was a thought that you’d tried to push out of your mind but there was no way you could at this point. The trade deadline was coming in a few months and Kevin was certain he’d be on the trading block. You’d pushed him to talk about it about tons of times but he kept putting it off, knowing he was nervous about a move out of New York.

“If it is, we’ll make it a memorable one,” Kevin places a kiss to your lips, pulling you up to step out onto the ice.

You watch as Kevin skates around the ice, Marc Staal’s kids chasing after him in the intense game of tag they’d been playing, while you smile at him from the bench.

“He’s so good with them,” Lindsay, Marc’s wife, says to you on the bench, “I think they’re going to miss him if you guys go.”

You nod, know how many dinners Kevin’s had at their place long before you’d even started dating, “I know it’s going to happen but, we haven’t even talked about it.”

“You’d go with him no?” Lindsay asks, trying to gauge how you actually felt about it.

“I mean, yes, he’s the one but-” You start to say only to be interrupted by the woman next to you.

“Just talk to him about it,” Lindsay says, “I’m sure you guys will be okay”

That night you’d been sitting in your shared apartment, a rerun of some terrible reality TV rerun playing in front of you. Kevin was out grabbing ice cream, insisting you spent the night off snuggled up with a movie. Your mind wanders to the conversation you’d had the family skate, and how you felt watching Kevin skate around with Marc’s kids. It was what you wanted and you knew you wanted it with Kevin but you were scared of the future. You’d been so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even hear Kevin walk back into the apartment. A pint of ice cream finding its way into your hands.

“Hey Kev?” You ask, your voice small, “What are we going to do if you get traded.”

Kevin looked confused, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, am I going to stay here or do you want me to go with you?” You ask bluntly, deciding to just get to the root of what’s bothering you.

Kevin takes a deep breath, walking out of the room and into your shared bedroom. You can hear him rummaging through a dresser, or it could have been a nightstand and step back into your living room with a velvet box in his hand.

“I was planning on doing a better job at his, you know, I was going to plan a nice dinner, make sure you’d just gotten your nails done, the whole thing but I think I need to do this now,” Kevin says, dropping down to one knee, “Baby I love you, and I want to be with you. I want to have a family with you, and spend the rest of my life with you by my side - wherever that may take me. Will you marry me?”

You nod, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, flinging yourself forward to kiss Kevin, over and over again, “Did you actually just do that?”

Kevin smiles against your lips, “I’ve been hiding that since the summer.”

You pull back smiling at the man in front of you, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Kevin grins back at you, “I can’t wait to have a family, we could be like Marc and Lindsay with all those kids running around the ice.”

The idea seemed like a dream to you, but in reality you were getting to live that life with a man who loved and cared about you. Kevin spends the night talking about your future, the plans seeming more definite than the first time he’d done that. Settling on having three kids, and a summer wedding - even mentioning you could get a dog even though he was afraid of them.

III.

You’d ended up following Kevin to Winnipeg and then to Philly easily. You’d been making an adjustment, but Philadeliphia was starting to feel like home more and more everyday. Kevin was happy and he loved his new team - which made it easier for you to follow suit. You’d both started to become acquainted with the city and you knew this was going to be a good place for the two of you.

You bounce the baby on your lip, singing a nursery rhyme while moving around your kitchen, causing Gavin to laugh. You’d ended up babysitting, Claude’s wife, Ryanne, calling you last minute to complain about their sitter canceling their date night. You and Kevin had agreed on a night in, so you offered to take their son for a few hours. You loved Gavin, and quite honestly you spend more time at games playing with him than paying attention to your fiance on the ice.

“I think we should have a boy first,” Kevin says, sitting on the island watching you with the baby.

“I don’t think that’s for us to decide Kev,” You joke, blowing raspberries into Gavin’s cheek, causing the baby to giggle, “Right Gav, tell him, he’ll be happy with what he gets.”

“What do you want?” Kevin asks, holding his arms out for you to pass him the baby.

“A boy doesn’t sound too bad,” You admit, thinking about how many outfits you’d bought for Gavin that you’d love hanging up in a nursery of your own, “What brought this up?”

“You know, we’re getting married soon, and you just look really good singing nursery rhymes in our kitchen,” Kevin admits, “And c’mon you don’t want a little me running around?”

Kevin holds Gavin next to his face with a pout, rubbing his beard onto the baby’s cheeks causing him to giggle and wiggle in Kevin’s enormous hands. It was a sight for sure, and one that often made you think about just letting Kevin knock you up before the wedding.

“I’m not going to be pregnant at our wedding,” You scold, “I’ve spent too much time planning to not be able to drink.”

“You’ve got a good point, we’ll make a honeymoon baby,” Kevin assures you, as if you had a choice.

IV.

Newlywed life was coming to a halting stop the second you touched down in Philadelphia. The summer of bliss that you’d just experienced was about to be burst in with the reality of a new season starting. You’d bought a new place, the space in the city was far more family friendly than the apartment you’d been living in last season. There were plenty of bedrooms, and some outdoor space that still resided in the city. You’d finally finished unpacking, stepping back after hanging up the last of your wedding photos in the living room.

“They look good there,” Kevin says, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the couch, spinning you around, “You were right, I do like this place.”

Kevin wasn’t entirely on board with moving, but you knew he wanted to start a family and you wanted somewhere in Philly that you would come back to - a real permanent home. It took a little convincing but you managed to get him to crack while you were on your honeymoon.

You had one surprise that came with the house, and it sat in a box in your kitchen. Inside was a pregnancy test - that you’d taken a day before you moved down to Philly for the season. A very tiny jersey, with your now shared last name on the back, a bright number thirteen stitched onto the back. And to complete a very small stuffed Gritty that you had bought on impulse one day. You were excited to finally share the news with Kevin, keeping it a secret while you both handled all the craziness that came with moving and training camp coming up.

“I have something for you,” You say, slipping out of his arms and grabbing the box from the kitchen - dropping it into his lap, “Open it.”

You were on the edge of your seat watching him open the box and pulling the small jersey out, looking down at what was underneath it, “You’re pregnant?”

“I’m pregnant,” You confirm, placing your hand over your stomach.

“You, my wife, you’re pregnant, we’re having a baby,” Kevin blurted out, a goofy grin gracing his face, “Baby, we’re having a baby!”

You laugh, knowing this is the exact reaction you’d get out of your husband, “I take it you’re happy?”

“Easily the best thing that’s happened to me,” Kevin says, grabbing both sides of your face and kissing you over and over again. He spent the next week telling everybody he came in contact with that he was, in fact, having a baby.

Plus One

You hear a large crash, and a chorus of laughs coming from what was supposed to be your future son’s nursery. You sigh, curling your hands around the def-caf tea you’d been drinking, counting down the days until you actually start drinking coffee again, and you walk into the room, a piece of what was supposed to be a crib on the floor, and TK, Nolan and Kevin’s eyes staring at you.

“Sorry,” They all said in unison, guilt across their faces.

You give them a smile, “It’s fine guys, please be careful, and get this done.”

You decided to stay in Philly until you had the baby, the season ending when you’d hit around eight months and the stress of heading up back to Boston just seemed like too much at the time. Now, you were a week until your due date and you and Kevin had pushed everything till now in regards to setting up a place for your son. It was starting to stress you out, and honestly you were grateful for Travis and Nolan’s help, even if it was like having two kids in your house already.

You felt your stomach cramp up and a feeling in your stomach that this baby was coming, you gasp and look at Kevin, your eyes scared, “Kev - I think it’s happening.”

Nine hours of labor later, your son entered the world in a way somehow more chaotic than the way Kevin entered your life. Kevin did good, keeping his cool for most of your pregnancy and labor that you were honestly surprised. He finally cried, when he held your baby for the first time, calmly talking to the little boy who he loved probably more than he loved you. You got lucky, in all the craziness of what was going on, Travis and Nolan stayed back and somehow put together all of your furniture in the nursery, even leaving a few gifts behind for your baby boy.

“Thank you for this,” Kevin confesses, the two of you and your son being the only people left in the hospital room, exhausted from the day of visitors, “I mean I knew we’d get here, but I’m grateful we actually did.”

“I hope you’re still grateful when you have to change diapers at 3 am,” You say, knowing the hard part was definitely coming.

“I promised I’d do it, and I will,” Kevin assures you, intending on keeping the promise that you carried that baby for nine months and that he would take on the middle of the night diaper duties.

And you fell asleep that night like you did so many nights before, Kevin rambling about your future, all the things he wants to teach his son. How he can’t wait to teach him to skate, and how he can play whatever sport he wants - or it would be fine if he didn’t play sports at all. Kevin’s voice lulled you and your little family to sleep - and you knew he’d do that forever.

#kevin hayes #kevin hayes imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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luxekook · 5 years ago

Text

zero gravity ✰ namseok

✰ pairing: namjoon x hoseok x reader

✰ genre: space au, f2l, angst, smut, slight crack & fluff

✰ summary: being the captain of a spacecraft is all fun and games until the only two others on board start hooking up and you start falling for both of them. it’s only natural that you act out - just a little

✰ word count: 11k+

✰ warnings: 18+, pre-established namseok relationship, mentions of throbbing disco sticks, jealousy, an unintentional viewing of dick pics, dom/sub themes (bratty sub!reader, dom!joon, switch!hobi), a bdsm club (reader watches a scene), grinding ft. jooheon from monsta x, smut (slight voyeurism, mxm, manhandling, spanking, threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it), oral (m + f receiving), double penetration, slight breeding kink)

✰ beta’d by: phia @meowxyoong | ✰ banner by: rose @jeonggukingdom

✰ commissioned by: THE LOML ATLAS @miamorjoon I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS UWU

The blinking lights from the monitors adorning the walls of the control room of your ship - The Imperial Kween - illuminate your path as you make your way towards the navigation deck. It isn’t like you to be awake at this hour; you’re usually sound asleep by 0100, tucked snugly in your soft bed within your cozy captain’s quarters. Yet, here you are at 0300 after a late night of binging Tron and Agnate Plus Eight (Tentacles).

As captain of the Kween, you are perhaps a tad bit overprotective of both your ship and your crew. You had won your ship some moons ago when you were on Xyreus - the lawless planet of the Huvian System. You had been on the run, having just recently fled the Space Force Academy where you had been a rising captain.

The Academy had seemingly been your only option as an orphan. Your years there had been heavy with intense physical, mental, and intellectual training. The strict regimen enforced by your commanders had almost crushed your spirit. Almost.

Instead, your path had crossed with Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon. They had been assigned to you in your last month with the Academy when you rose high enough in the rankings to begin training for captaincy. You had been designated as their tentative captain with Hoseok as your pilot and Namjoon as your first officer. Upon meeting them, you had been the perfect captain that your superiors had wanted you to be - cold, callous, calculating.

But then you had grown to like the boys. Actually, it had more so been that they had forced you to like them. With the two of them surrounding you day in and day out, your walls had crumbled. Hoseok taught you how to be happy again, how to see joy in the little things, and how to share that joy with others. Namjoon made you see other options, futures separate from the rigidity that had been the only life you knew.

It hadn’t been until you caught them whispering about wanting to leave the Academy that you realized that could be a possibility. And then that possibility became all you could think about. You had hacked into the Academy archives, taken inventory of the ships in the cargo bay, and carefully extracted information from your commanders.

What you had found was not pretty. Yet, it had also been strangely unsurprising. Perhaps you had always known the Academy was built on corruption and oppressive tactics. Perhaps you had subconsciously chosen to ignore it until you couldn’t anymore - not when such pure souls like Hoseok and Namjoon had relied on you and still do.

You had laid out your plans to Hoseok and Namjoon at the last possible second, protecting them from anything incriminating until the end. Your heart had burst when they dropped everything, choosing to follow you, to stay with you, to trust you. You think that had been when you first knew you loved them.

Sneaking out had been easy. You had been scoping out a small ship in the cargo hold, tinkering with its systems to get it set up for your escape. The hard part had been staying out. You, Namjoon, and Hoseok had barely breathed sighs of relief before you had Space Force officers tailing you. While Hoseok worked on evading their grasp, you and Namjoon had decided to direct your course to Xyreus to ditch your stolen ship and to negate any authority the Academy might try to push on you.

The three of you had spent a year on Xyreus, trading the parts from your Academy ship for a tiny apartment. The Academy eventually had lost interest in you all, probably replacing you easily. You had obtained freedom by the pen of a freelance forger who constructed new identification cards for you and your crew. And you had won your ship.

It had been a particularly eventful night. Hoseok and Namjoon had dragged you out of your apartment and to the Snake’s Den - a particularly popular club within Xyreus’ gambling district. The boys had really been into the fight scene and the rapid betting that accompanied it. You, however, had found your place amongst the card players. Your game of choice back then had been and still is Queen’s Revenge - a vicious game of strategy and deceit.

Amidst the haze of the club, you had located your people, settling into the crowded booth of players. Soon enough, you had picked your victim, a loud, obnoxious fellow from Gwexion who would not shut up about his ship. “She flies faster than any ship you’ll ever see!” He had cried, thrusting his stein of Xybrew in the air, “And she can vanish without a trace with the flick of a switch!”

You had wanted that ship. And you had gotten it.

About two hours after sitting at the table, you had made your move. “My ship for yours,” You had wagered, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation. The rest of the booth had laughed, only seeing you for your gender. Twenty minutes later, there hadn't been a sound other than the sobs of the man from Gwexion and the jingle of the ship’s control keys in your hand.

Hoseok and Namjoon had berated you for hours about your recklessness of wagering a ship you didn't have. You hadn’t cared; you had known you would win and finally be able to fly. The three of you had sold your apartment the next day, boarded your ship, and flew off. You haven’t looked back since.

Now, two years later, you’ve made quite a name for yourself across the galaxies as a mercenary of sorts. Your trade of choice? Information.

If something is going on in space, you’re likely to know about it; and, you’ll make people pay for that information to be shared or to be kept quiet. As captain of the Kween, you’re in charge of keeping the ship running - and that includes earning a profit.

Hoseok and Namjoon aren’t too fond of your enterprise of information because it often puts you all in danger. You can’t fault them for that. You know this venture is tricky, but it's also very lucrative and it often results in you screwing over bad people. So, you take that as a win.

You arrive at the navigation deck and sigh in disappointment at the absence of Hoseok who sometimes monitors the flight course during the night. Instead, you activate your ship’s Responsive Electronic Environmental Systems Engine - simply called R.E.E.S.E. for short. “Hey, R.E.E.S.E. Status report, please.”

“Hello, Captain (y/n). It is my esteemed honor to deliver a status update to you at this hour. I have been getting so lonely, you see. Usually Pilot Hoseok stays up with me, but tonight he has abandoned me for—”

“R.E.E.S.E.!” You groan. This is typical R.E.E.S.E., going off about something trivial in a dramatic fashion.

“Oh my. I have done it again. My apologies, Captain (y/n). All systems operating as normal. Shields activated and secure. Navigation set on nightly autopilot course.”

“Thank you, R.E.E.S.E.” You gaze out of the front windows for a moment; the view never gets old. Countless stars surround you with planets of every color scattered in between. Sometimes, you would see an occasional ship passing by, but right now there is not one to be seen.

You deactivate R.E.E.S.E. and head back to your captain’s quarters. Walking through the control room once more, you pass through the common quarters and finally enter the hallway containing your shared bathroom, both Hoseok and Namjoon’s respective quarters, and then your own at the end. The hallway is dim, illuminated only by the slight glow of the floor beneath you.

You move slowly, careful not to wake either of the boys.

And then you hear it.

Your first thought is porn as you pause in your tracks, standing stock still as the sounds of muffled groans and slapped skin seep through the sliver of space under the metal door leading to Hoseok’s quarters. Is he really jerking it right now, you think as you shamelessly creep closer to get a better idea of whatever - or whoever - is going down right now.

“Fuck, give it to me harder.”

Yup, that’s Hoseok all right. You place your palm on his door, dirty visuals racing through your mind. Who is he imagining? What you wouldn’t give for him to be thinking of you...

“Oh yeah, I’ll fucking give it to you hard, baby. Just how I know you like it.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you slap your palm over your mouth. Holy shit. Holy fuck. Holy hell in a handbasket. That’s Namjoon. Namjoon is there with Hoseok, fucking Hoseok.

Your imagination goes wild - as do your heart and your thoughts. How long has this been going on? How have you missed this? Are you that oblivious? Or are they just that good at hiding their relationship? Why haven’t they told you? Do they not trust you as much as they say they do? Do they think you won’t accept them if you knew?

It’s those final thoughts that hurt the most.

How is it possible that you know the intricate plans of an uprising occurring on a planet light years away, but you don’t know your only two crew members are hooking up?

You somehow manage to soundlessly continue down the corridor to your quarters. How does someone respond to overhearing the two men that you’re desperately in love with having sex? And just steps away from you at that?

All of your training never prepared you for this moment. You sit in your empty bed, gazing out the large window that takes up the majority of your quarters’ back wall. Emotions roll over you like waves. Arousal. Grief. Shame. Longing.

It isn’t that you are upset at them for being with one another. If anyone in the galaxies deserves love, it is Hoseok and Namjoon. You are more upset with yourself for naively thinking that they might have had feelings for you, that they might have loved you back.

There had been that fateful night at a bar on Xyreus when the three of you had gotten just a little too drunk on Xybrew and had fooled around. You still remember the feeling of Hoseok grinding into you on the bar’s tiny dance floor, his hands wandering across your body, driving you insane. You still remember the taste of Namjoon’s lips as he pushed you up against the wall of the small alley behind the bar, his fingers digging into your ass as he pushed his hips into yours. You still remember how Hoseok watched you with fire in his eyes as Namjoon sunk to his knees and—

Fuck, you can’t go there. You can’t revisit that memory because it only ends in disappointment.

“A drunken mistake,” They had called it the next morning before you could get a word in edgewise. “A threat to our crew’s dynamic.”

What a joke. It turns out that their only regret must have been including you.

Your mind wanders to all of the small moments over the past few years. The hugs, the tender looks, the things that had made you question whether they actually felt more for you after all turned out to be just signs of friendship.

With all these thoughts heavy in your mind, you eventually fall into a restless sleep.

The next morning comes all too soon as you find yourself going through the motions of everyday life with much less enthusiasm than normal. You’re drained, both from your lack of sleep and from the onslaught of emotions that still riddled your body.

And so when Hoseok greets you in the ship’s kitchen with that beautiful smile of his, you can barely get your lips to even turn up slightly.

“(y/n), are you okay?” Hoseok’s eyebrows are drawn together and he looks concerned.

You sigh, grabbing the pot of coffee and pouring yourself a cup. “Yes, I’m fine, Hoseok. I just didn’t sleep very well,” You eventually answer him, refusing to meet his eyes and choosing instead to gaze into your coffee like it might tell you how to behave right now with the knowledge you gained last night.

Obviously, it does not. You only see your distorted reflection gleaming back at you from its brown depths.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hoseok pouts, making his way over to your side, “Is there anything I can do?”

You try in vain to ignore the affect his proximity has on you as you flick your eyes across his form. Hoseok is tall and lithe with delicate features and the most beautiful heart-shaped smile you’ve ever seen. Though he may look slight, you know the lean muscle that lies beneath his oversized t-shirts from the early mornings you catch him roaming around shirtless and half asleep. You have first hand knowledge of how well he can move that body from the late nights at the clubs on Xyreus. You know how well he f—

Nope, not today. Instead of going down that dangerous path, you choose to be the little shit that you are when you feel like you are at a loss. “You can share your secret on how to be so well rested, Hoseokie,” You say, your eyes laser-sharp on his expression, “You’re practically glowing this morning.”

Hoseok’s cheeks flood with color as he laughs lightly and replies with a slightly wistful look on his face, “Maybe someday, (y/n).”

You let out an unamused huff, which only makes Hoseok laugh again. You glare at the happy boy and then stiffen as arms wrap around your waist, tugging you back against a warm body. “Morning, (y/n),” Namjoon murmurs into your hair, his fingers leaving a blazing heat on your skin as they drag across the swell of your hips.

He turns your body around to face him, and you hesitantly bring your gaze up to his. God, he’s just as beautiful as Hoseok. Namjoon’s height had been the first thing that you noticed about him in the Academy. The second had been his dimples. You have been a goner for him ever since.

Your eyes drift up past his strong thighs to his tapered waist, his toned chest, his tanned neck, and finally to rest on his warm brown eyes. “Hi,” He grins, those godforsaken dimples popping out to greet you, too.

“Hi,” You manage to reply, your heart constricting painfully in your chest.

Always too smart for his own good, Namjoon catches your mood immediately, “What’s wrong?”

“She didn’t sleep well,” Hoseok comes up next to Namjoon, throwing an arm around his shoulders. His frown is prominent as he stares down at you. Namjoon’s expression quickly matches Hoseok’s as he brings his hand to cup your chin, lifting your face up to look at you.

“Baby,” He murmurs, “Were you dreaming of that damned place again? I thought that had stopped for you.”

You bristle under the weight of their inspections and from the pet name you now know means nothing. Namjoon is, of course, referring to your recurring nightmares from the Academy, and he is also inadvertently giving you the perfect excuse not to come clean about the real reason for your fitful night.

And so you nod as best you can with Namjoon’s hand cupping your chin, and the boys exchange a long look. Hoseok turns to you, “Go rest today. Namjoon and I can handle things. Okay, lovely?”

You turn away, forcing Namjoon to drop his hand. “I need to plan out a potential deal on Naroxu,” You mutter in disagreement, “I’ll be fine.”

“Naroxu?” Namjoon bites out, “(y/n), we talked about this.” You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Sometimes it feels like you're not the captain of your own ship. And it is exasperating.

“You know what?” You grab your coffee, brushing past the boys, “I think I will go rest after all. Don’t disturb me, okay?”

“But (y/n)—!” You leave them in your dust. Of course you should have realized they would have a problem with Naroxu. It’s a planet just as lawless as Xyreus, but it’s focus is more on the carnal sort of chaos. You aren’t unaware of the dangers that lay within the pleasures on Naroxu; you’re just unfazed by them.

Apparently, Namjoon and Hoseok feel differently. Your boys can argue with you about anything in the name of “safety”. You’ll definitely need to make certain that you’ll have a foolproof plan which leaves them with no room to argue. But, that is a bridge you shall cross another day...

A few days later, you realize that you definitely must have been oblivious to the relationship occurring right under your nose. There are signs of it everywhere - in the way they speak to one another, in the way their eyes linger, in the way their hands brush as they pass each other by.

You have not dared to venture out of your quarters late at night ever since that fateful discovery, but that doesn’t help. Your thoughts are constantly plagued by the sounds of their desire, their intimacy. Your mind conjures images that you can’t forget. You crave that. You want to be part of that passion with a desperation you have never felt before.

And so, you have accordingly descended into internal chaos, choosing to throw yourself into your plans instead of joking around with Namjoon and Hoseok in the common quarters like you usually do in your spare time.

They know something is up. It’s not like you haven’t spent almost three full years together. Knowing each others’ tendencies and habits is second nature. Well, clearly that knowledge has excluded intimate relationships - at least for you.

The tip of your pencil snaps under the strength of your grip; and, when you look down to assess the damage, you sigh. All you have written down so far is: “Plan A: Go with Joon and Hobi. Plan B: Go without Joon and Hobi if they don’t like Plan A.”

Pushing your desk chair back, you stand and stretch out slightly. The rest of the logistics for the meeting are set. Now comes the hard part - convincing the boys to come along. It’s not that you can’t go alone; it’s that you feel better knowing you have two people watching your back, no matter how frustrating they might be.

Walking out of your quarters, you make your way towards the sounds of laughter and low voices coming from the control room.

“We really do have to tell her soon, Hobi.” You hear Namjoon say as you draw closer. Are they talking about you?

“I know, Joon. I’m just scared. I don’t want to lose her friendship.” Hoseok’s voice is small, barely above a whisper.

“You won’t, baby. Just think of how free we’ll be to share our love…” Your ears strain to hear them now, even as you get closer.

“...Leaving her.”

Your feet stop in their tracks. Leaving? Are they really thinking of leaving you? Your body sags against the wall, sliding to the floor. What would you do without them?

You guess you could recruit a new crew, but no one could replace Hoseok and Namjoon. Not when they’ve been with you through everything. Not when they’ve accepted you for who you are. Not when they’ve become your life.

You allow yourself to sit for a moment. And then you collect yourself, shoving your useless emotions down to the pit of your stomach. You just need to move forward and enjoy every last second with your boys before they go. Because they would leave you, and you would let them go because you love them.

Standing, you make sure to make louder footfalls then normal to alert Hoseok and Namjoon of your incoming presence. Sure enough, the minute you step into the control room Hoseok tackles you in a hug.

“(y/n)!” He picks you up and swings you around, “I’ve missed you, lovely!”

You laugh despite your lungs being constricted by his tight embrace, “I saw you last night at dinner, you fool.”

Hoseok sets you down and jokingly pouts down at you, “But that was so long ago! You left me all alone with this one.” He juts his thumb out at Namjoon, “And you know how he can get.”

“Not as well as you,” You mumble under your breath.

“What was that?” Namjoon narrows his eyes, focused on you from his nearby stance leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his dark t-shirt straining against his biceps.

“Nothing,” You smile sweetly at him. “Hi, Joon, nice to see you, too.”

Namjoon stares at you for a moment more and then sighs. Walking over to you, he pulls you close, “It is really nice to see you, baby.” That blasted nickname is going to lower you into an early grave. Indulging yourself with a short hug from Joon, you pull back and decide it's time to get down to business.

“Alright, let’s go over the plan for Naroxu.”

“(y/n)!” Namjoon shoves a hand through his hair, “I thought we scrapped that idea. That planet is on our ‘no-go’ list!”

“Naroxu is dangerous, lovely,” Hoseok’s wide eyes bore into you, “Please think this through.”

“You scrapped the idea,” You say to Namjoon, “I kept it. Besides, that ‘no-go’ list was all you and Hoseok.” Turning to the boy you just named, you continue, “And I have thought this through. Extensively, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself, okay?”

You can tell they are getting pissed; but honestly, so are you.

“We know you’re a ‘big girl’.” You do not appreciate Hoseok’s use of air quotes, but you allow him to continue because you’re gracious like that. “But there are tons of bad people on Naroxu who would love to chew you up and spit you out - physically and metaphorically speaking.”

“Gross, Hobi,” You scoff. “And before you both cast judgement, why don’t you give me a chance to explain the plan? You don’t even know who I’ll be meeting for gods' sake.”

The boys exchange a glance. “Fine,” Namjoon bites out, “But this won’t change my mind.”

Obviously, you think to yourself. Trying to get Joon to change his mind is like trying to get R.E.E.S.E. to delete the overwhelming amount of data she has dedicated to some group of musicians from Earth. Impossible, but you would always try anyways.

“Okay, so the contact that I’m meeting on Naroxu is Joohoney—”

“What?!”

“Joohoney from Monsta X?!”

“Oh my gods, will you let me finish?” You roll your eyes to the ceiling and plead with any higher power to help you find patience, “Yes, Joohoney from the Monsta X clan. How many other people in the galaxies go by that name?”

Hoseok opens his mouth to answer, and you cut him off, “That was a rhetorical question, Hobi.” He blushes, bottom lip sticking out slightly.

“Anyway, we’re going to be meeting up at this space BDSM type sex club called Throbbing Disco Sticks. I’ll tell Joohoney what he wants to know, he’ll pay me, and we’ll bounce. Got it?”

You get nothing but silence. Looking at them, you notice the tightness of Namjoon’s jaw and the darkness in Hoseok’s gaze.

“Oh, now you want to be quiet?” You push them, “Well, you can both stay here. I made a separate plan to go alone so—”

“Not happening,” Joon grits out, moving closer to you. “We made a pact, (y/n). Or have you forgotten?”

“Together or never,” Hobi recites and you almost laugh. It’s absurd that they bring this up when they had just been talking about leaving.

“Fine,” You shrug, “Then we leave at 2200. Hope you have something tight to wear.” With that, you stalk out of the control room. Their shouts follow you.

“Tonight?!”

“(y/n)!”

You grin. Maybe this will be fun after all.

Update: it is not fun after all. You only have twenty minutes left to get ready and you’re panicking. You had just made the mistake of asking R.E.E.S.E. to bring up pictures of Throbbing Disco Sticks and immediately had regretted all of your life decisions.

Is that why they named that club what they did? You think both you and R.E.E.S.E. are scarred from the unexpected amount of male genitalia that the search produced. Only after you add the addition of ‘Naroxu club’ do you get the results you’re looking for - mostly.

You had just wanted some guidance on what to wear. Instead, your thoughts are now full of images of chained leashes, silk ropes, and dark rooms with blinds raised to welcome an audience. You wonder what sort of things happen in rooms like that and if you’d ever get a chance to try those things out.

Your tablet beeps, alerting you of your upcoming meeting. Taking one last glance in the mirror, you assess the way your tight leather pants accentuate your body and your slightly sheer black crop top hints at your lack of bra underneath. Still, your outfit is missing something… You think it over as you tug on your pointy black steel-toed heels.

Ah, you stand and make your way over to your trusty jewelry drawer. Of course. Carefully pulling out your body chain from its place, you drape it around yourself. The chain clasps around your neck and then falls lower between your breasts, settling around your waist. The coldness of the metal causes you to shiver, but the way the crystals embedded in the silver glisten as you turn to admire your final outfit makes it worth it.

You keep your makeup minimal - just a red lip and a slash of black eyeliner. You want to blend in, not make a statement.

Finally, you tuck the map outlining the information Joohoney wants into your back pocket. Any bag you might bring would be searched, so you can do without one.

You take one last calming breath and make your way down the hall to meet the boys. “Hoseok, Namjoon: Are you ready?” You call as you don’t see any sign of them out in the common quarters.

“Coming!” Hoseok’s voice calls back to you and then he emerges from his quarters.

You have to use all of your might not to let your jaw drop. It seems like he also had searched up what to wear because he looks like he stepped right out of the pictures you had seen just a half hour ago.

Hoseok is wearing tight dark jeans tucked into black combat boots that buckle up to the middle of his calves. What he isn't wearing is a shirt. Instead, a deep red leather harness is strapped across his chest with a silver hoop in the middle.

Did he just have that harness lying around? Gods save you.

While you are busy ogling Hoseok, you fail to notice him doing the same to you - so much so that he doesn't move an inch from his spot until Namjoon bursts out of his own quarters and bumps right into him.

At this point, you begin to sweat because Namjoon looks just as lethal as Hoseok in his light jeans, a black leather thigh harness, and a completely see through tight mesh t-shirt. You watch as he fiddles with the two leather cuffs circling his wrists.

“Hoseok, what are you doing?” Namjoon scowls, dropping his hands to his hips. Hobi says nothing and just points in your direction.

“Why are you pointing at me?” You huff, “Don’t blame me for being an idiot and just standing there practically waiting to get hit.”

Namjoon stalks towards you, eyes blazing into you as he takes in your outfit. “Change,” He orders.

He’s giving you orders? A burst of heat flares within you that you try to classify as anger but fail miserably.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Joon,” You fold your arms across your chest. Hoseok chokes as he comes up to stand next to Namjoon who is suddenly all up in your face.

“Go. Change.” Namjoon’s voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it.

“No.” You stand your ground. Why is he trying to dictate your clothing choices anyway? He’s not your father or your boyfriend - not that you’d let either of those people tell you what choices to make with your own body.

Namjoon turns to Hobi, who still hasn't uttered a word to you, and says lowly, “Go set the course to land on Naroxu.”

Hoseok practically runs off in the direction of the navigation deck. You gape after his fleeing figure and then turn back to face the fuming Namjoon.

“Listen,” You shove your finger into his admittedly toned chest, “I don’t know what has gotten into you, Kim. This outfit isn’t even that bad. Besides, you’ve seen me naked before. Remember?”

“You’re really going to ask me if I remember.” Namjoon’s face is inches from yours. His scent wraps around you and you have to collect yourself for a second. His eyes drop to your lips for a second so brief you believe you imagined it. “You’re really going to ask me that as if the image of your body isn’t burned into my memory and as if every single time I close my eyes I don’t see you.” Namjoon takes in a shaky breath, “And so, (y/n), I’m begging you. Please go change. Not for you, but for me. And for Hoseok.”

You’re at a loss as your brain scrambles to make sense of the words Namjoon just spoke. Okay, he does remember... So, is he mad that it happened? Or is he mad that it only happened once? Must be the first, you think. He has Hobi, after all.

“Maybe you two should stay back,” You suggest, patting Namjoon’s chest comfortingly, “Then you won’t have to look at me while I look like this. I’m sorry it brings up bad memories.”

Namjoon looks completely baffled, “What? What the hell are you talking about? Stop trying to get us to leave you alone!”

“Please,” You laugh without humor, “Like I have to try.”

This time, Namjoon just looks pissed. “Baby, that’s the second comment like that you’ve made today. And I’m getting the sense that you have something to say. So why don’t you just say it?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He is so onto you.

Namjoon’s presence looms over you, making you feel so small. Your gaze drops to the floor, “I don’t have anything to say.”

“You’re lying. Hm, what a bad girl.” Your head snaps up, eyes wide as you try to slow the pounding of your heart and the increasing pressure between your thighs.

“Do you know what happens to bad girls, (y/n)?” Namjoon croons, eyes dark and locked on yours. You don’t even have the ability to respond, and so he just continues, “They get punished.”

A small whine bursts from your throat before you can stifle it back down. Namjoon’s smile in response is predatory.

“(y/n)! Namjoon! We’ve landed! Oh—”

You and Namjoon turn to stare at Hoseok whose face shows a whole number of emotions in the blink of an eye. Hurt. Confusion. Lust?

All of a sudden, the ship feels too hot, and you need to get off. Ducking around Namjoon, you head towards the ship’s main door. You can hear them murmuring behind you, but you ignore them.

You need to get your shit together. It’s not good to get distracted on a job. It’s even worse to get distracted before said job even starts.

Practically punching the exit button, you tap your foot and wait for the door to open and the ramp to descend.

“(y/n),” Hoseok calls to you, “Slow down! We need to talk to you!”

“No time,” You reply, stomping down the ship’s ramp. Barely taking a second to appreciate the beauty that is Naroxu, you power forward through the landing site. Ships of all kinds surround you. The night sky is a dark inky purple and Naroxu’s famed twin moons shimmer with swirls of silver.

“Then make time!” Namjoon’s growly response sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the crisp night air. You increase your pace, heading towards where you hear thumping music and peels of laughter and murmured conversation.

“Namjoon, you of all people should know that’s against the laws of physics,” You retort as you finally burst through the end of the landing site and into the crowded street dotted with neon signs and vendors of all sorts.

“She’s so infuriating!” You hear him spit out behind you to Hobi, and you can't help the smile that winds its way across your face. At least you aren’t alone in your anger.

Finding Throbbing Disco Sticks is the easiest part of your night. You simply follow what looks like cylindrical sticks of shimmering glass mirrors spinning from atop a building. There’s a line that winds its way from the club’s doors and down the block. You quickly realize that your outfit is on the conservative side and grimace. You settle for tying your crop top higher on your waist so it hits right below your breasts. This is the best you can do.

“(y/n)!” Hoseok gasps from beside you as he realizes what you’ve just done, “Why are you torturing us like this?”

“Not this again,” You groan and decide that - fuck it - you’re going to name drop to bypass the line. It’s totally tacky, but you’re desperate at this point. Ignoring the hecklers amongst those waiting, you come to a stop in front of the two burly bouncers who are clearly Naroxuin natives with beautiful lilac skin and curling silver horns.

“Can I help you, little lady?” The slightly taller one addresses you, and you immediately swoon at the depth of his voice as it flows off his tongue like chocolate. Damn these sexy Naroxuins…

“I’m meeting an old friend,” You flash them your best smile, “And he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Would you be able to let us in?”

Blinking your wide eyes up at the two bouncers, you watch as they exchange a short glance and then turn back to you. “Who’s your friend?” The other bouncer asks you, his sharp eyes assessing your figure.

“Jooheon,” You say, shrugging, “He usually goes by Joohoney.”

Their eyes grow large. “We didn’t know Joohoney had a pet,” The first bouncer comments, eyes flicking over your form, “But then again, you are quite delicious, aren’t you?”

A hand slips around your waist and grips it firmly, while another settles on the small of your back.

“Oh, does Joohoney share?” The second bouncer grins, his eyes turning to crescent moons as he stares at the hand digging into your hip. “I never would have guessed. Keep me in mind, would you, pet?”

“Oh, shut it, Jimin,” The taller bouncer laughs, “Like she’d ever pick you over me.”

“Fuck off, Tae,” Jimin glares, stepping aside to let you through. “Have a nice night, pet. You know where to find me.”

“And me!” Tae calls, laughing again as Jimin shoves him.

You move along, shaking your head at the oddity of that encounter.

“I thought you were supposed to be keeping a low profile!” Namjoon hisses over to you as soon as you’re out of earshot of the two bouncers.

“Yeah,” Hoseok mutters, “Flirting usually doesn’t fall under the category of ‘low profile’.”

“Oh my gods,” You tug out of their holds, “I barely said two words to them! And I didn’t realize that flirting at a sex club would be completely out of the ordinary. Wow, lock me up!”

“Don’t fucking tempt me.” Namjoon’s response is immediate. Your breath hitches as he corners you close, “Now, go finish your little mission and we’ll settle this back on the ship, baby. And, believe me, it will be settled.”

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. You watch as Namjoon tugs Hoseok further down the corridor towards the main club area. “We’ll be watching!” Hoseok calls over his shoulder and shoots you a look you’re not even sure you want to interpret. And you can’t - not when you have a meeting to attend.

After grabbing a non-potent drink from the bar, you make your way around the crowded club. The dance floor is packed full of people of all shapes, sizes, and skin tones. You even see a few Uyiths with their glowing gold skin in the far corner, practically providing light for their whole area.

The majority of the clubbers here seem to be experienced in the lifestyle. Many are collared or are the ones leading the collared. Others are unclaimed and waiting to be approached or to approach. You, however, are just trying to not be propositioned for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes.

“Well, aren’t you exquisite,” A low voice murmurs from your left.

“Not interested,” You say, sipping your drink and wishing you weren’t on a job so you could have something stronger.

“Your loss,” The man shrugs in your periphery before slinking away. At least this one had not been pushy like the last. You had to threaten to remove his balls using just the tip of your stiletto to get him to flee. You are so over it.

Hopping off of your barstool, you decide to explore the rest of the club while you wait for Joohoney. You try to ignore the heat from the two pairs of eyes glued to your every move. And then you duck into the dim hallway that you know leads to the individual rooms full of sin.

The first few have their blinds closed, much to the disappointment of your curiosity. However, the fourth room is fully on display. Only two others are gathered in front of the glass, paying close attention to the activities occurring on the other side.

And what activities they are… You peer through the glass at the sight. A man is tied to a St. Andrew’s Cross, his arms and legs straining against the cuffs as a woman dressed in only a leather bustier runs her finger teasingly up and down his shaft. A second man lays beneath her, his face buried between her legs. Your attention returns to the man restrained.

What had he done to deserve such painfully pleasurable punishment? Had he done it on purpose?

As if he feels you staring at him, the man’s head lifts up and he meets your eyes. A small smile forms on his lips as he raises his chin to acknowledge you.

The woman turns to follow his gaze and raises an eyebrow at you. She hooks her finger in your direction, beckoning you to come inside. Almost subconsciously, you listen. But before you can take a step, a hand catches your wrist and tugs you back.

“What are you doing, lovely?” Hoseok’s voice jolts you from the scene that had captivated your attention. The woman in the room eyes you for a second more and then shrugs, returning to her other playthings. “You weren’t really thinking of joining them, were you?

“And so what if I was?” You reply petulantly. You cast a glance around you, noticing that the other couple watching had since disappeared and that there is no sight of Namjoon. “Where’s your other half?”

“My other half?” Hoseok’s nose crinkles adorably as he thinks, “Oh, you mean Joon? He’s taking care of something.”

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead, “He’s taking care of something? Why does that sound so sinister, Hobi?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, lovely,” Hoseok grins and then glances over your shoulder at the scene you had been watching. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

You, of course, turn immediately. The man is still tied, but now the other is sucking his dick as if his life depends on it while the woman watches with a small grin on her face. She holds a small device in her hand and is fiddling with its buttons. Then you notice the glimmering jewel that winks back at you from the ass of the man kneeling.

“It is… What do you think is hot about it?” You ask, as the tied man moans, throwing his head back and baring his throat.

“All of it. The way she commands the room, the way the men please her, the way she tortures them. I don’t know who I’d rather be,” Hoseok lets out a small laugh, shoving a hand through his tousled hair, “Do you?”

“I’d want to be tied up,” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. Hoseok’s breath hitches in his throat as his hands come down to clench your hips.

“(y/n), lovely, I’d want to see that, too,” His eyelids are heavy as he stares down at you. One of his hands travels lower on your body, palming your ass slightly.

“H-Hoseok,” You gasp, your back arching into his touch.

“Goddamn, lovely,” Hobi moans, “I thought I might never get to hear you say my name like that again.”

Your thighs clench as you vividly recall the memory not unlike this when Joon had eaten you out against the back wall of the club and then Hoseok had slid into you and fucked you until you couldn’t walk. You definitely had cried his name more times than you could ever count.

And this makes you so confused. Does this mean he had been wanting to hear you moaning his name again? That makes no sense considering he’s sleeping with Namjoon and planning to leave you.

Hoseok must read the thoughts on your face because he sighs, bringing your hand to his lips. “Later,” He promises - of what, you don’t know. He presses a kiss to your knuckles and then disappears back into the crowded club.

“Well, that was quite a show,” An amused man emerges from the shadows, “Just when I thought you might join the Mistress with Suga and Jin, you get caught up in another. How delightful.”

Sighing, you stick your hand out to greet your contact, “Hi, Joohoney. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Joohoney’s dimples flash at you as he grins and you internally melt. God, your thing for dimples is getting out of hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, too, pet. Please, call me Jooheon.” His hand grips yours firmly as he takes you in. You pay him the same regard, eyes wandering over his black long sleeve shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His shirt is tucked into slim fitting black pants and cinched with a belt that looks like it could also double as a harness. He looks expensive as hell.

And then what he says registers to you.

Groaning, you tug your hand out of his and grimace, “That wasn’t my fault! The bouncers just assumed, and I didn’t think to correct them.”

Jooheon’s grin turns wicked as he stares you down, “Oh, I’m not complaining. You can be my pet anytime you want, (y/n)…” He not-so-subtly flexes his wrist where a black choker with a silver ring in the center is wound around it twice, “This would look pretty around your neck, wouldn’t it?”

You struggle to find a response, your mouth opening and closing as you blink at the absurd turn your night has taken.

“Ah, don’t answer that. Let’s dance,” Jooheon smiles sweetly down at you like he hadn’t just asked to own you in every sexual way possible.

So you agree, nodding slightly, and then he whisks you onto the dance floor. The music thumps through you as Jooheon drags you into the throng of the crowd. Looking around you, your eyes fall on your boys.

Hoseok and Namjoon are wrapped around each other, their bodies pressed together, hips grinding to the beat. Their eyes are both on you, their gazes absolute and piercing. Namjoon grasps Hoseok closer to him, his hands drawing the other boy further into his crotch.

Are they really doing this right now? In front of you? While staring you down?

And so when Jooheon grabs your own hips to pull you back into him, you let him. The response from Hoseok and Namjoon is immediate. Namjoon’s nostrils flare as he watches you begin to shift your body in time with Jooheon’s. Hoseok’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek as he glares over your shoulder.

“Looks like we’re making some people mad, pet,” Jooheon laughs, his lips brushing your ear. “Are you with them?”

You lean your head back to respond, “Technically, yes. They’re my crew.”

“Well, then why does your crew look like they want to fight me for putting my hands on you?”

“Oh, they’re just protective,” You reply, “They’re in a relationship anyway, as you can see.” You wave a hand over to where Hoseok and Namjoon are murmuring to each other, almost seeming to be mirroring you and Jooheon.

The motion of your hand recaptures their attention and you swear the movement of Namjoon’s lips produces the harsh phrase of ‘I’m gonna destroy him’.

You’re almost certain that Hoseok and Namjoon are about to blow your entire deal; you cannot have that happen. And so, you turn to Jooheon and ask if you can make the trade now. Luckily, he agrees and leads you through the crowd towards a door beside the bar along the far wall.

Before you step over the threshold, you turn back. Hoseok and Namjoon are steps away from you, looking pissed. And then you let the door fall shut behind you.

The trade deal goes down fairly quickly. You tug the map out of your back pocket; Jooheon places a few stacks of currency on the table. You count it first, of course. This isn’t your first space rodeo.

Thankfully, Jooheon is true to his word and has the full amount ready for you. You then unfold the map you had drawn and begin to explain it in detail. “So the Alravi are planning to attack the Wyxian border here, here, and here.” You point out the spots you had starred. “My informant is certain they will strike at 0400 in two rotations.”

A scoff meets your ears. One of Jooheon’s partners stands. He’s handsome and tall with full lips and sleepy eyes. “How do we know that this information is even legit, Joohoney? She could be making this up.”

Jooheon shoots you a look and you step towards the skeptic. “Well, Chae Hyungwon,” You purr, “I can guarantee that this information is as real as the tattoo of your mother’s name on your left asscheek.”

Hyungwon turns fuschia as Jooheon cackles, “Is that true, Wonnie? Do you have that?”

“Yah!” Hyungwon glares at you, “It’s not a tattoo of my mom’s name, it’s a tattoo of my ex-girlfriend’s name! It’s not my fault they happened to share the same one.”

Jooheon wipes tears from his eyes as he hands you your money, “Please, pet, call me for a trade anytime. This has been the most fun I’ve had in months.”

“Will do,” You grin, sliding the money into your pocket. It barely fits, but you don’t care. It always feels good to secure a bag.

You wave at Jooheon and his crew as you exit the small room and re-enter the crowded club. No further than two steps out of the door, you are thrown over someone’s shoulder.

“Hey!” You pound on your assailant’s back, “Put me down!”

“Shut it, (y/n),” Comes the growled reply.

You still for a second in an attempt to process what the hell is happening. “Joon?!” You cry, “What the fuck! Where’s Hobi?”

“Here.” Hoseok’s voice comes from behind you and it’s devoid of any of its usual amusement.

You curse, trying to wiggle out of Namjoon’s hold.

Thwack. Your ass stings and you gasp. Heat floods through you as you realize that Namjoon just outright spanked you in the middle of a crowded club - in front of Hoseok.

Damn you for even thinking a deal at a sex club would go well. No one even paid the three of you any mind as Namjoon sauntered out of the club and into the night with you hitched over his shoulder and Hobi trailing behind you both.

You even hear the laughing comments of the two bouncers from earlier as they yell over to you...

“Have fun!”

“Come back to visit, pet!”

You flip them off, but sadly Hobi obscures the gesture from their sight.

“I can walk, you know,” You mumble, thoroughly put out by your situation.

“Yeah, we do know, (y/n),” Hoseok scoffs, “You walked away from Joon and I just fine a few minutes ago. What happened to having one of us in the room with you?”

“I can handle myself just fine,” You retort, turning your head to assess how much further you’re going to be left hanging. You’re probably almost at your ship if you had to guess. “Plus, it was good practice for when the two of you leave me.”

Namjoon halts in his tracks and slides you off his shoulder and onto the ground. You wobble a bit from the blood rush, but he steadies you.

“What did you just say?” Namjoon’s voice is deceptively soft, his hands grip your biceps firmly. You can feel Hoseok behind you, his breathing hard.

You snap. Honestly, you’re a bit shocked it took you this long when you’d been feeling like you might crumble for days.

Your eyes glare back at Namjoon as your lips curl into a sneer, “Yeah, I know you’re leaving me, just like I know about you and Hobi. So why don’t you drop the act like you actually care about me and fuck off.”

Namjoon’s eyes are wide as they stare down at you. Hoseok seems to have stopped breathing altogether and a slight whine sounds from him.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon says, “Bring her to her quarters while I set the course.” He steps around you and stalks towards your ship which is only a few paces away.

“Come on, lovely,” Hoseok grabs your hand but you just shrug him off. A flash of hurt crosses his beautiful face and you almost cave and hug him close. But you have to be strong - just like you always have.

You march forward, heading up the ramp and onto your ship. Hoseok closes and locks the door behind you; the ship lifts off immediately.

Laughing bitterly, you head towards your quarters with Hoseok in tow, “What’s the big rush here? Can’t wait to start your own life together without me?”

“(y/n), please. Let’s talk about this,” Hobi begs, for what you’re not sure. The quiet desperation you hear in his words almost drains the fight right out of you, but you’re in too deep to stop now.

“What’s there to talk about?” Your words sting with bitterness as you enter your room, “I know you two don’t love me, and I get it. Who would? You and Joon deserve a better life. I’ll be fine without you just like I was before you came into my life.”

Hoseok shoves a hand through his hair as he gazes sharply down at you, “Lovely, no. Don’t say such things.”

Angrily wiping away a traitorous tear, you sink onto your bed. Just when Hoseok looks like he’s about to say more, Namjoon storms in. He takes one look at you and Hoseok and sighs deeply. “What are we going to do with you, baby?”

“She thinks we don’t love her!” Hoseok cries.

Namjoon blinks and then approaches you, “Is that what you really think, (y/n)?” He bends down, his face level with yours from where you sit on your bed. Hoseok sits beside you, and you watch as his hand slowly inches towards yours.

You tug it out of reach. “I know you don’t love me, Joon,” You shrug, “And that’s okay. I’ve always been alone; it's what I know best.”

Namjoon shares a long look with Hoseok and then he turns back to face you, “Baby, how did you get these ideas in that pretty head of yours?”

Your anger boils back up, “I got them from you!”

You spring up, standing toe-to-toe with Namjoon, “If you really want to leave to be “free to share your love”, don’t let me hold you back. After all, I’m just a drunken mistake, aren’t I? Just a nasty little hiccup in your relationship. Just a painful memory that makes you cringe. Don’t you realize how much that hurts me? I fucking love you and you both can’t stand the sight of m—!”

Namjoon’s hand grips the back of your neck as his mouth slams onto yours. Your mind blanks as you gasp, his tongue sliding over yours. You kiss him back. Your hands wind up his chest, feeling his skin burning through the flimsy mesh of his shirt. You feel another pair of hands grip your hips and that jolts you enough to come to your senses.

“Wait, wait, wait,” You pull your mouth away from Namjoon’s, “You can’t just kiss me and touch me like I’m yours when I’m not.”

“But, lovely, you are,” Hoseok tugs you back into his body and places a light kiss on your neck, “You always have been.” His mouth feels hot as it sucks gently on your skin, undoubtedly leaving marks in its wake.

“I-I don’t understand,” You stammer, trying to wrap your head around everything that’s going on. “I thought you were leaving me. I thought you were ashamed of that night on Xyreus. I thought you didn’t want me when you so clearly want each other.”

“For someone so smart, you sure draw some dumb conclusions,” Namjoon mumbles, his hands cupping your face carefully. “Number one: the conversation you overheard was about how we agreed that we would never leave you.” Your breath hitches as you feel Hoseok’s hands slip around your body to toy with the hem of your crop top right under your breasts.

“Number two,” Namjoon continues, recapturing your gaze, “We are ashamed of that night on Xyreus. But what we’re ashamed of is how strongly we came onto you, how we were so sure we felt more for you than you felt for us. We couldn’t lose you. If we scared you off with how much we loved you - and still love you - we would never live with ourselves. And so we cut it off.”

“You love me?” You breathe out, “Both of you?”

“So much, baby,” Namjoon looks down at you like you’re the most cherished thing to him.

“So, so much,” Hoseok growls in your ear, nipping at it slightly. You shiver, your body pressing back into his. You feel his cock hard against your ass and you press back even further, craving some kind of friction. “Fuck, lovely,” His head falls to your shoulder as he grinds into you.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon’s tone is hard and full of warning. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

The other boy groans but pulls back from you just a bit. You frown at the loss.

Namjoon notices and rolls his eyes, “How did I forget that you’re just as insatiable as him?” Before you can even retort, he continues, “Number three: yes, Hoseok and I want each other; but, we also want you. We talk about it all the time. How your pussy tasted on my tongue. How you felt around Hobi’s cock. How it might feel to fuck you at the same time…

His eyes are dark, his pupils so dilated that they encompass his irises. “I think about that, too,” You bring a hand up to hold one of Joon’s as he still cradles your face. “I think about how it would feel to be between the two of you as you pound into me, using me for your pleasure.”

“She almost joined a scene tonight,” Hoseok blurts. Your eyes widen as Namjoon’s eyebrows raise.

“Is that so, baby?” Joon murmurs, one of his thumbs brushing over your lips. “What drew you in? Hoseok and I can give it to you in any way you want; you just have to ask.”

Your thighs squeeze together as your walls clench around nothing. Of course, Namjoon’s observant eyes miss nothing and he quirks a small smile.

“I liked how they pleased their mistress,” You gasp out, “How they touched each other to make her satisfied. I want to do that. Let me do that for you.”

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon groans, “You want to please me? Fine. Strip - both of you.”

Hoseok immediately sets on unbuckling his harness. Meanwhile, your hands shake too much to be able to unclasp your body chain.

“Leave it on,” Namjoon slips a finger under the chain between your breasts, “I’ve been dying to see you in this and nothing else.”

“But my shirt—!” Your protest is cut short as Joon grips the collar of your top and rips it straight off. “Namjoon!” You berate, shooting him a dirty look which he definitely doesn’t see since he’s staring at your half-naked body like it’s the sun in which he revolves around.

“So goddamn beautiful.” Just as you think he’s going to touch you, he backs off. “Hobi, take her pants off, and then I want to watch you make her come.”

Hoseok moves to stand in front of you. You stop breathing as you take in his bare body - his cock already hard. He sinks to his knees in front of you, hands winding their way up your calves, your thighs, your ass. Hobi slowly tugs down the small zipper on the side of your pants and then pulls them off you.

He lets out a moan as soon as he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear. How could you have in tight leather pants?

“You dirty girl,” Namjoon’s words reclaim your attention as you look up at him. He’s sitting in your desk chair, legs spread wide, making no move to hide his arousal. “Now keep your eyes on me when Hoseok fucks you with his tongue.”

You let out a moan both at Namjoon’s words and at the first brush of Hoseok’s tongue on your aching pussy.

“Gods, Joon,” Hoseok growls, “She’s so wet, so sweet.” His tongue flattens as it drags down the length of your folds before circling your clit.

You’re panting at this point, and when Hoseok lightly kisses your clit and sucks it into his mouth, your back arches. You grind your hips shamelessly down onto Hobi’s face, craving more with a desperation you haven’t felt before.

Your eyes never leave Namjoon’s as he speaks to you in a low voice, “Fuck yeah, baby. Ride his face. Does it feel good?”

“So good,” You moan, hands winding into Hoseok’s hair as he slides his tongue inside you.

“Do you think you deserve to come, (y/n)?” Namjoon questions, his fingers steepled in front of his face as he leans forward. “Even after the stunts you pulled tonight on Naroxu?”

“Y-yes,” You answer petulantly and then jolt as Hobi spanks your ass. Your walls clench automatically around Hoseok’s tongue and he moans, the vibrations make you squirm. The pleasure builds and builds inside you, coiling in the pit of your stomach and spreading across your body.

You murmur Hoseok’s name like a mantra as your fingers dig into his hair, holding him against your pussy.

“Stop.” Namjoon’s voice cuts through your impending bliss. Hoseok draws back and you whine at the loss of contact.

“Joon, please,” You beg, “I’m so close!”

“I want to feel you come around my cock, baby,” Namjoon walks over to you, “Can you do that for me?”

You nod furiously, and he smiles, his dimples peeking out at you. “Good girl.”

You watch as Namjoon strips, taking in the sight of the thickness of his thighs, the hardness of his cock.

He kisses you swiftly and then turns you around. “I want you on all fours, baby. Go on,” Namjoon squeezes you ass and then pushes you lightly onto the bed.

You shift onto all fours, all too aware of how much you’re on display for them. And you feel yourself getting even more turned on.

“Damn, Joon, look at that pretty little pussy,” Hoseok groans, “It’s all ours. She’s all ours.”

You feel a finger slide into you. “Babygirl,” Namjoon groans, “When I wreck you, I want you to suck Hobi off, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” You pant, needing them both so bad.

Namjoon chuckles darkly as Hoseok gets into position in front of you. He barely settles before you lean down to taste him. Your tongue swirls around the tip and then you take him into your mouth.

You feel Namjoon’s finger slip out of you only to be replaced by the head of his cock. As he eases into you, you groan around Hoseok’s length, making him twitch.

Namjoon slowly begins moving in and out of you. “You feel so nice, baby,” He murmurs, gripping your hips, “So hot and tight around my cock.”

You clench around him and Namjoon moans, “Fuck, baby, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna come too soon.” You clench again, because you’re a brat.

Thwack. Namjoon’s hand comes down hard on your ass and stays there, kneading the sting out slowly. His pace picks up. His cock slamming into you, his hips grinding into your ass with each thrust. Soon enough, you’re hurtling towards the edge once again. You release Hoseok from your mouth; and instead, you focus on moving one of your hands up and down his shaft as you lap at his tip.

You feel yourself gripping Joon tightly as you move your hips back to meet each of his thrusts. “You gonna come, babygirl?” Namjoon spanks you again as his other hand reaches around your body to rub your clit.

You come with a scream, your vocabulary erased to the point where you only know the names of your lovers. Namjoon continues to pound into you, carrying you through your orgasm.

But still, you’re not satisfied. “Hoseok,” You peer up at your sunshine, “I want you inside me, too.”

“Lovely,” Hoseok sighs, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You nod emphatically, shaking your ass slightly.

Still inside you, Joon groans, “We’ve unleashed a monster, Hoseok. Go grab the lube from your room, yeah?”

“Why? I have some,” You point towards your bedside drawer. “It’s in there.”

Hoseok opens your drawer and curses, “Lovely, have you been fucking yourself with these toys?”

“No,” You retort, getting up from your bed and ignoring the noise of protest that Joon makes when he slips out of you. “I just stare at them for the aesthetic, Hobi.” You move him aside with your hips as you grab the lube from its spot.

Hoseok bites down on your neck. “Such a brat,” He mumbles into your skin as he kisses the mark he just made.

They don’t know the half of it... You grin, “Now, are you both going to fuck me? Or should I go back to take those bouncers up on their offer?”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than Namjoon grabs you, wrapping your legs around his waist and sinks his cock back inside you. “You think that’s funny, baby?” He growls into your ear, “You’re not even going to remember their existence when Hobi and I are done with you.”

You moan as you feel Hoseok’s finger teasing your ass, getting you ready to take him. The coolness of the lube sends a shiver down your spine as you eagerly anticipate being full of both your boys. “Please, Hoseok,” You whine, desperate for him. You grind your hips down onto Joon as best you can, and when you feel the first gentle touch of Hoseok’s cock against your hole, you throw your head back so it rests on his shoulder.

Hoseok sinks into you inch by inch, torturously slow. You’re panting now as you are stretched around the two of them.

“Gods-fucking-damn,” Hobi moans, his hips meeting your ass as he bottoms out inside you. “Joonie, I can feel you. Gods, you’re so tight, lovely.”

“Please,” You cry. You need them to move, to fill you up with their come.

And when they finally start moving in and out of you, you think you might be ascending into the astral plane. Namjoon’s mouth lowers to suck at your nipples. Hoseok’s hands roam around to flick and play with your clit. You’re so overwhelmed by the multiple sensations, your hands digging into Namjoon’s hair, holding him close to you.

“I’m gonna come,” Hoseok whines, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his hips stuttering as he chases his high.

“Me too. Come with us, baby,” Namjoon orders, his own voice straining as he shifts your legs up higher to get deeper inside of you.

Tears stream down your cheeks as his cock hits that spot inside you, and you’re coming. Your walls clench down around both of their cocks, milking them. Their cum fills you up with warmth as your pussy continues to pulse around them.

“Oh, lovely,” Hoseok sighs, his voice breaking as he thrusts shallowly in and out of you, riding out his orgasm.

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Namjoon places light kisses all over your chest, “You were made for us.”

You can’t even find words as they eventually pull out of you. Cum drips down your legs as Joon sets you down. You watch as Hoseok swipes at it with two fingers and then brings it up inside you. “Want you to be full of us always,” He says, placing a swift kiss to your lips.

“My heart already is,” You murmur, your lips twitching as Hoseok groans at your cheesiness.

“Baby,” Namjoon sighs, his arms wrapping around you, “That was terrible.”

“Please,” You roll your eyes, “You love it.”

“Yeah,” They reply, “I guess we do.”

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