#genuinely what was I on doing those dress folds and how so I do it again

[art-is-kayos]

Manager and their Knight.

[tonycries]

We Don’t Have No Babies!

Synopsis. Well, it’s a bit difficult to have no babies when they’re well and fully intent on fúcking one into you.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, bréeding, mentions of kids, máting press, pússydrunk boys, manhandling, marking, spitting, degradation, praise, cúmplay, the elders ugh (Gojo’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. WHEWW take this as an apology gift for missing yesterday’s post date, I overslept eheheh.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - What’s another?

“Don’t hah- pass out on me yet, doll.” Toji hisses. Spreading your swollen folds further apart with his fingers, already stretched so obscenely around his swollen cock, and only trying to squeeze deeper. “What was it that brat said again?”

And you can only let out a broken whine in response - too high off the stretch and the utterly sinful pool of his cum spreading on the sheets below. It’s been like this for hours now, both of you barely lucid at this point. But you can’t bring yourself to be disgusted, not even a little bit. 

Because Toji’s throwing your legs over his shoulders, pressing down, down, down, till your knees were at your tits. Folded in half, and stuffed full beneath him. God, you weren’t going to make it out alive. 

“Oh, riiight.” he drags out, voice strained. Deceivingly innocent had it not been for that devilish grin. “He called you ‘mama’.”

And there it was - Megumi’s tiny, seemingly mindless slip-up that got you into this mess in the first place. One that had poked some raw, primal part of Toji so dangerously awake.

The one that had Toji splitting you in half with his aching cock, hips pressing so hard against yours that it almost hurts. Fucking into you in slow, languid motions of his hips, while he drinks in your sobbed out little, “Ah- Hngh- Toji, s’too much I-” 

Lazily, he thumbs open your folds even more, watching in awe at the way his seed dribbles and oozes down your thighs, seeping into the mattress. It takes him a while to form the words, too hazy from how warm and sloppy you were inside. 

“Too much?” he drawls, with the audacity to sound genuinely taken aback. “I don’t think it’s enough, ma.”

It’s the only warning you get - barely - before he laces his fingers on top of your head to take him deeper, snapping his hips harder. Sloppier. Sensitive cock stinging with sensitivity, balls squeezing painfully. It hurt, but it hurt so good. And Toji wasn’t even sure if he could cum again. But he was milking his cock on your pussy like he was gonna fill you up until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“B-but m’so full.” you babble, mouth dropping into a fucked-out little oh! as you look down at the way you were swallowing him up so well. “Dunno if I can’t hngh- t-take anymore.” 

Oh shit, had he said that out loud? Ah, who gives a fuck. Because Toji was chuckling in surprise, stuck on the way you could still form coherent sentences - he had to fix that, of course. 

“Shhh. Don’ worry about it. Jus’ need to fill you up- ah, fuck a baby into ya, ma.”  he gently kisses away those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “All you gotta do is sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” 

Hand snaking down to toy with your swollen clit - frenzied, barely-circular motions just to get you off. Because shit he can’t just stuff you full of his cock without getting the mother of his future kids off, right? And he let you know, of course. Maybe he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear - probably it was just promises of how he was gonna fill your pretty lil’ cunt till morning comes and Megumi was gonna be the best big brother and-

“-m’gonna make ‘em breakfast. And you’ll dress ‘em up. We’ll read oh- them bedtime stories and-” he’s babbling so pathetically into the crook of your neck now. “-an’ tuck ‘em into bed- Oh, fuck fuck fuck.” Drunk off your pussy and the heavenly feeling of his heavy balls squeezing so dangerously, letting his hips go out of control now. “And then- hngh, and then-”

“T-then what?” you let out such cute sobs into his open mouth, seeing stars behind your eyes each time he ravages you.

“Ya really wanna know, ma?”

Somehow, his words have you squeezing around him so good. Enough that it’s almost difficult to move inside you. Enough that Toji doesn’t even realize that he’s cumming and cumming so hard that you’re bloated with his seed. Squelching out of your quivering pussy and soaking his cock as he doesn’t even think of stopping even as you keen at your poor overfilled pussy, teeth latching onto your earlobe as he holds you still for him. 

“And then…” Toji’s hot breath fans your face, voice guttural and sounding like he was losing a little bit of his sanity with each thrust. Hips moving again and again to fuck his cum deeper into you. “And then m’gonna fuck another one into you.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Lonely? No problem!

“Aww, m’sorry. Did I make you feel lonely, my love?” Kissing your lips softly, running his hands all over the pretty lil’ lace covering your body - just barely, of course. “Did I leave my pretty lil’ wife all alone in this big house?” 

You give him a pouty little nod, and oh does that do something to Nanami’s heart - and his achingly hard cock. And he can’t help but pull the drenched fabric of your panties further to the side, greedily honing in on the way you glisten and clench around him. 

“Well, we should fix that, right? So that my pretty baby is never alone in here.”

You would be reassured by his answer - had it not been for the way Nanami doesn’t even wait for your reply. Instead, looking straight into your eyes while he pushes his thick cock deeper inside you. Not even fucking preparing you as he usually would.

“Oh! Oh, mm fuck-” And it’s all you can do to buck into his touch and just fucking take it while he grunts at the slight resistance. For once in his life more concerned about trying to fuck desperately into your dripping cunt than whether or not your poor pussy would hurt herself trying to take him. 

That merciful, practical little part of his brain going slow to let you adjust to his massive cock - because, well, he couldn’t break the mother of his future children. Now, could he?

But oh how you’d beg to differ with the way Nanami fucks into you in languid , shallow grinds of his hips. No matter how many times Nanami stuffed you full of his cock - his size never failed to disappoint. Stretching you out, fingers swiping at your clit, expertly grazing against all the right spots he knew so maddeningly well. 

“Two or three?”

It takes you a second to register that he’s waiting for your answer - too delirious with the way your husband’s splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his cock. Leaving neat crescents of his nails on your hips as he holds your slutty pussy still. 

“W-what?”

“Two or three?” Nanami gives your pulsing clit a little smack! as if to get your attention, hips stuttering ever-so-slightly at the way you squeeze his thick cock in surprise. “How many babies am I fuckin’ into you, my love?” 

Oh. Oh, shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

But were you really complaining? No.

Swallowing thickly, “Ah! Fuck, Kento- wan’ two.”

And maybe you’re a mastermind, maybe you’re an idiot. Because nowhere is the gentleman that you married, Nanami’s spitting on your quivering cunt once. Twice. Watching like a predator stalking his prey at the way it misses - purposefully, splattering against your inner thigh.

Smearing it all over your pussy and your panties - which he was too impatient, too starved - to remove. Messy. 

It’s all Nanami needed to do before he’s bottoming out completely. Pressing his forehead against yours in such a sweet motion, even though his hips were so mean. Drinking in your delirious whines as his heavy balls smack your ass. Over and over-

The duality making your head spin as he fucks his cute lil’ wife dumb, part of his sanity dancing away with his restraint every time your slutty hole sucks him up so deliciously. 

“Shit. More?” he grunts, sounding absolutely wrecked. Moaning at the way you tug at his hair, legs wrapping around his toned waist as if to urge him to go faster. Deeper. Begging. Begging him to ruin you. More more more- 

And, of course, what his girl wants - she gets. Because Nanami’s dragging his weeping tip across your swollen folds, all the way out till he’s collecting your sweet juices on his head. “Better take it like my good wife then.”

Then he’s pushing and pushing inside your tight pussy, but not like he was before. Jagged, desperate grinds of his hip - no adoration, no warmth. Just fucking you like his little slut, high off the idea of fucking his cum into you till you couldn’t walk. Till you were so full of him that he’s all you could think of. “We’ll have such beautiful babies, my love.” 

“Shit shit shit, Kento- yer gonna ruin me-” you’re whining, body torn between arching into Nanami’s unforgiving cock and running away. 

As if you ever had a chance - he was holding you so bruisingly by the hips, gasping into your mouth. “Shhh, that’s the point.”  Fucking you so filthy, each word punctuated by his out-of-control hips, so harsh and unfocused with lust that those tufts of blond at his base scratch your sensitive nub. And the feeling is so fucking obscene that you barely hear the words that follow. “You jus’ focus on taking care of my babies, n’ m’gonna be the one to ruin this pretty cunt- The one to fill you up- fuck. ”

Nanami throws his head back as you squeeze the soul out of his throbbing cock, so pent-up and needy that you’re creaming all over his cock already. And of course, Nanami isn’t any better - because with a strangled groan of your name, he’s cumming. Hard. almost painfully so. 

“N’ you’ll never be lonely, cuz everyone’s gonna see you and see me. I did that.” 

Jolts of electricity going all the way from his heavy balls to the thick, hot ropes of cumming filling your dripping pussy. Painting it all a desperate, desperate white.

And shit was Nanami an entirely different man tonight. Pulling out ever-so-slightly, only to admire his seed gushing out of you - so lewd and his. 

“Y’know what, my love, I don’t think two will be enough after all.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Pretty (and his)

“Awww, pretty baby.” Geto purrs, in such a dangerously low voice, smacking his tip - so red, and angry - all across your swollen folds. He bites his lip at the way his cum spills down your legs, pooling onto the hardwood floor with a deafening tap! tap! tap! “Y’want it so badly, huh?”

“Shit- hngh- please!”

You don’t know what you’re begging for - maybe release. Maybe mercy. Maybe to be anywhere but here - shoved against the wall right beside the front door, dress hiked up, almost your way to go clubbing with your friends before your beloved boyfriend had caught you. And stuffed you full of his cum, at least.

Whatever it is, Geto only gets messier, teasing your sloppy hole by slamming in - just barely grazing that one spot. And pulling out completely, watching you clench and glisten in the dim lighting. In. And out. In and out in and-

“Sugu!” you squeal, tired of the way he was having way too much making such a mess of your pussy. Swiping at your slick, and shoving his seed back into you - smirking at the obscene mess. 

“Mhm?” he nods absent-mindedly. Eyes flitting between your ravaged pussy and that absolutely adorable pout on your lips. Chuckling, “What~? If I cum in this cute pussy one more time, you’re sure to get pregnant, y’know.” 

Scoffing, “Shoulda thought of that when you came inside me the first time.”

Geto rolls his thumb over your sore clit - just as a little punishment - breath hot against your ear as he whispers raggedly.  “And are you complaining, gorgeous?”

“N-no…” 

“Then?”

He’s licking little circles at the crook of your neck now, in time with the maddening, frenzied patterns on your cunt. Enough friction to keep those pretty lil’ whines spilling from your swollen lips, but still teasing you just enough to have you bucking and keening onto his aching cock for more more more-

“Please! I jus’ want your cock, Sugu-”

All it takes is your broken little whimper, and it’s like something snapped - because Geto’s plunging into your plushy walls completely. Finally giving you an ounce of that friction you’ve been craving for so long. Only half the man he was once before while fucks into you deliriously. 

“F-fuck. Love it when you’re so messy f’me.” he’s hissing lowly, as if you could be anything but messy. As if he’s not pulling you back by the hair to bounce you like some slut, hips snapping mercilessly. As if he isn’t absolutely ruining you.

And maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have said something about the pure disrespect in his cock. Fucking you nothing like the sweet sweet whispers he was muttering in your ear, ragged and hoarse with desire.

“Gonna fill you up, huh? Give me some cute lil’ babies?” he groans,nibbling on your earlobe, fingers pressing down around your throat so the only response he gets are wet gurgles. Ones that go straight to his twitching balls, as Geto keeps running his mouth pussydrunk. “They better have your personality, don’ wanna share my pretty girl. Isn’t that right?”

So mean. Just babbling like you rarely get to see him - usually the ever-graceful Geto Suguru. Now, drunk on your tight pussy and the image of you with a little baby with black hair and him - there for it all. His perfect little family. 

“Gonna be the perfect momma, huh?” 

Geto only gets a broken little whimper in response - one that almost makes him want to go easy on you. Almost, instead, he settles for breathing out a ragged, “Fuck fuck fuck, yeah, gorgeous. Squeeze me s’tight like that - jus’ like that jus’ like that-” 

Trailing such a delicate finger up your legs, Geto pools that sinful mixture of your slick and his cum on his fingertips - before shoving them unforgivingly in your mouth. The slightly salty taste was so addictive on your tongue - and, hell, you aren’t even mad that you’re running late to meet your friends.

Smirking as you gag and mewl around him, he only gets sloppier. Faster. Licking a long, languid stripe up your neck, just knowing that he’s gonna cum inside your cute pussy harder than he has his whole life. Have your poor pussy bloated with him him him- “Now, yer gonna go to that lil’ party of yours jus’ like this. And everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Can’t help himself

“N-no, swear-” Choso lets out a broken little whimper into the crook of your neck. Feet flat on the bed, hips bucking up mindlessly over and over to where you were splayed out so prettily on top of him. So messy and dripping all over his glistening cock. “Gonna ngh- be the last one- I s-swear.”

You’ve heard this broken little mantra before - and you knew it wouldn’t end well for your poor pussy. Especially not with Choso bullying his weeping cock back into your snug cunt. “But, Cho!” you gasp, “We’re out of-”

He knows you’re out of condoms. But, really, does it matter?

Because shit were you like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. And, well, here he was - completely pussydrunk, two rounds and a still rock-hard cock later. The only thing on his mind from then on was to not paint your pretty pussy white with his seed, no matter how much he wanted do. 

“Last time, baby. Promise I won’t cum inside.” And then he’s batting this long lashes so unfairly up at you. So fucking beautiful with his dark hair untied, lips swollen, eyes-half-hooded and miles away. And, well, how could you say no to that?

And you’ve barely gotten out your delirious little nod before Choso’s wrapping two strong arms around your waist, pulling you so intimately closer like he worshipped you - while he fucks your hot cunt like anything but. So hard that you knew it would leave marks - your nails on his chest, his balls on your ass, fingers on your waist. 

God, you were squeezing so desperately around him and he just thinks he might just cum right then and there. So fucking perfect that Choso knows he’s never buying another box of condoms ever again. 

“F-fuck, feels s’good. Love having you so deep n’ messy inside me.”

You were going to be the death of him.

“Hngh- fuck fuck fuck, yeah? You like that, baby?” he groans lowly. Abs burning and flexing each time he rams his cock into your tight pussy, absolutely loving the way you were leaking his cum all over the sheets. 

“Shit- I-” 

“Yes, Cho~?”

Face burning in embarrassment, choking pathetically on his words, Choso instead lets his hips do the talking. Strained whimpers of your name leaving him each time he bullies his painfully twitching cock through your plushy walls.

Voice cracking almost-embarrassingly at the end as he rambles, “Oh my god- y’feel so fucking good wrapped around me, baby. Wanna- hngh-” Trying his very best to sound like every cute lil’ whimper didn’t make his thoughts steer into the dangerous territory of how pretty you’d be with his kid. Of a little girl with dark hair and your eyes and-

You. His hips speeding up now, so sloppy with now rhyme or rhythm. How round and glowing you’d be with his kid. You, how everyone would know that he was that ruined your pretty pussy n’ got you this way. You, you, you-

“Wanna cum in this cute pussy, baby.” He finally confesses. Hips getting so messy - mindless, quick little jabs that have you keening on top of him, balls squeezing painfully. “Wanna fill y’up until you can’t take it anymore, fuck you so full until we have a pretty baby. Can I, baby? Please don’t say no please please-”

And at this point all you can do is whine and buck your hips to meet his merciless cadence, letting Choso crane his neck and kiss you senseless. “Fuck yeah. Thought you’d never ask-” you mutter, muffled around where he was sucking on your lips, like they were his favorite candy. “Want you to cum inside me, Cho.”

Well, you didn’t need to tell Choso twice because no sooner have the words left your lips before he’s giving you one harsh thrust. Veins throbbing against your gummy walls, again and again. 

Tears pricking his eyes as he cums with such a guttural grunt of your name. “Gonna have a pretty lil’ girl.” Both white-white pleasure and the image of you and him and his daughter flashing behind his eyes. “She’ll look just as beautiful as you, baby. N’ have your cute smile.”

Your own orgasm is nothing more than a few tingles, overstimulated and limp on top of Choso as stuffs you full of his seed. Thick, white ropes that gushing all the way out of your snug pussy, smearing all over his twitching balls. 

You could get used to this.

And it’s such a heavenly feeling that Choso barely registers his hips moving again, as if on instinct. Fucking mindlessly into you again. Again and again. Gasping, breath hot against your ear. 

“Only one more, baby. Promise.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - A reward

“F-fuck, woman” Sukuna grunts, fingers so bruising on your hips as you slide down his throbbing erection. Inch by fucking inch, keening at the delicious burn. “Y’act so innocent but you’ve got such a slutty lil’ pussy, huh?”

As expected, the only response he gets is an incoherent babble of agreement. Your eyes watering, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth as you struggle to take him. And his sharp eyes narrow in amusement at the sight of his painfully inexperienced consort’s pretty cunt sucking him up so eagerly. Hips stuttering and leaking your sweet, sweet so sloppily juices all over his thighs.

Humans were always such interesting little creatures.

“Tch.”

Slow ones, too, apparently.

Because immediately, Sukuna’s stuffing himself into your sloppy pussy as far as it would go. Groaning at the resitance, a large hand pumping his cock slowly - enticingly - as he fucks his hips in quick, shallow little thrusts, just to fit himself inside your snug cunt. 

And you needed to breathe in and out maybe, relax your plushy walls, but Sukuna wasn’t going to wait. Why would he? He had his favorite woman - not that he’d ever let you know - sat on his lap, legs spread so shamefully and bouncing on his thick cock.

“F-fuck.” his jaw falls slack ever so slightly, groaning at the feeble resistance against his massive cock. Still only half-inside you but still pushing relentlessly. “S’like your pussy was made f’me, brat. Milking me so well.”

“Shit shit shit- hah- ‘Kuna, feel s’good-” you gasp, thighs quivering with the pressure to meet his rough cadence. And Sukuna huffs out a low laugh at your audacity to call his name, feeling charitable enough today to forgive this transgression. 

Instead toying with your pretty clit, pinching and rolling between his thick fingers, loving the way you buck and squeal his name. 

“Hmm, feels good?” he hums dangerously, amused at your barely-lucid little nod. Fucking into you like his personal fucktoy - his favorite one. “Good ‘nough to give me an heir?”

At this your eyes snap open - but not for long because you just have to screw them shut again with Sukuna finally bottoming out in a quick, harsh thrust. Splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his cock, veins throbbing a maddening little bump! bump! bump! matching your heartbeat. 

You barely have the time to breathe out a sigh of relief before he’s fucking into you. Unforgivingly. Like the monster he claims to be. All the blood draining into his achingly dick at the idea of fucking his cum into you until you couldn’t walk. 

And he tells you - chuckling at the cute lil’ ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time his fat head hits your cervix. “Y’want that, my little slut? To be my cute plaything to breed? Help m’make the next king of curses?”

Fuck, you don’t know if you’re reeling more from the way he was ramming his cock into you or the way he was talking to you in that mean little tone. 

“Mmm- yes! Yes yes yes!”

“Use your words.”

“Wan’-” you hiccup, batting your lashes at him so tearily, in a way that makes Sukuna’s heart thump so strangely. An uneven little beat matching the led rhythm of his hips. “Wan’ your cum- gonna give you a kid.”

So cockdrunk and delirious, you barely register the way he wrestles your arms behind your back, using it like leverage to bounce you harder and harder on his cock. Only looking up at him with such cute lil’ heart eyes as Sukuna uses you as he pleases. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck yeah?‘ he gasps into your open mouth. Teeth latching onto the crook of your neck, biting down right over your pulse. Dangerous. “Gonna make me an heir so powerful. Have him treat you like a queen n’ kill everyone that doesn’t? Ya like that, my lil’ slut?”

“Shit- ah- I want that s’bad, ‘Kuna.”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

And oh how pretty you look, cunt clenching and all surprised at the knock on the door - some lowly human here to beg for their life, maybe. But it doesn’t matter, because Sukuna’s only licks away the big, fat tears streaming down your cheek, hips burning while he breeds you like some animal. Hard, and almost violent.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same, breathless and shaking on Sukuna’s lap while he fill you with his hot seed. Thick and intoxicating. Hips unstopping, just animalistic little movements from such a carnal part of himself. Over and over-

And you’re so fucking drunk off of your lord’s cock that you barely even realize when he’s thumbing your ravaged cunt open. Letting his cum drip all the way down to his gaudy throne, on full display for whoever was about to-

“Come in.”

It’s adorable how you try to scramble off his lap, trying - and failing - to cover yourself up as the door cracks open. 

“Not yet, woman.” Sukuna grasps you in an iron-hold grip, dangerously sharp nails tethering right at your throat and your hips. Starting to drag you up and down on his swollen cock once more with no concern or care for whoever was about to enter. “Gotta make sure it takes.”

It was filthy. 

Completely debauched. And exactly where you wanted to be. You and your lord - and maybe your future heir, too.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Give ‘em what they want!

“Hah- f-fuck imagine- Imagine I fucked the next s-strongest into you right now.”

Oh. 

You knew by the look in his eyes that something was off - that something hadn’t gone well in that meeting with the elders. Really, it was a miracle he attended in the first place, but somehow you had an inkling that this was the type of something that would have you needing a miracle.

That was three hours ago.

And fuck did you need a miracle - because Gojo had you splayed out on top your office desk, his cum spreading in a pool beneath, you throbbing cock stuffing in and out of your snug cunt while you try not to alert the entirety of Jujutsu High about how needy the great Gojo Satoru was being right now.

Gojo’s ramming his swollen dick into your poor, overstimulated pussy like he was drunk off the sight of you all cockdrunk and in a tight mating press. Moaning at the sting of painfully hard erection twitching inside you, and your nails running down his back. 

Not even bothering to let you adjust this time before he’s fucking you again and again and-

You think it’s a bit unfair, really. Because who were you against the strongest? Well, the pretty lil’ wife who’s going to give him his successor, apparently. 

“Shit- wouldn’t that be funny?” he lets out a humorless laugh, wrestling your legs further and further apart. Eyeing the way you suck him up lewdly, “If I made my kid the strongest n’ just wiped these old fossils out?”

“T-Toru- we’ll get ca-”

“Caught? Who fuckin’ cares, they want a Gojo successor n’ they’re gonna get one.”

He’s letting out his frustration in the way he chases both your highs for the - well, you lost count which orgasm it was at this point. Letting you stain all over the expensive desk as he yells out little curses into your mouth.

And oh how you want to kiss that little furrow in his brow, to whisper away his stress - but, no, the only thing getting Gojo out of this bad mood was to fully and thoroughly ruin his girl’s cute lil’ cunt. 

But Toru-” you sob into his open mouth, hips bucking wildly for more. “What if I can’t give you the strongest…” You know you’re babbling deliriously, little insecurities you didn’t even know you had coming to the surface as it really hits you that shit this is your Gojo. And he’s here. And he’s fucking you until he’s sure you’re pregnant.

“Who gives a shit?” he licks away the big, fat tears streaking down your face. Salty on his tongue while he plays with your pretty clit, rubbing quick, tight little circles on it. 

As if to emphasize his point, Gojo brings his fingertips to his mouth with a lewd pop! So blissfully wrapping his lips around them. Darkened blue eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste - it only spurs him on more. 

Fingers immediately back down on your clit. Frenzied - like he couldn’t wait any longer, like it killed him to not see you cum again. Body bowing into yours, hand digging and bruising on your hips as he holds your filthy pussy still on his cock, 

“Fuck, gonna give it all to you, sweetheart. M’gonna train them to be the strongest n’ protect their pretty mommy.” 

Sloppy, he was so fucking sloppy - such a mess of teeth and spit and pure desire to paint your walls white. 

“Gonna have my eyes, huh? N’ your hair. Fuck they’re gonna regret bringing this up.” Babbling little nonsenses that drove you mad. He sounded so fucking pathetic, crazed with lust. “Ooooh they’re gonna regret it.” Overstimulated enough that it hurt.

Kissing the side of your ankle beside his head, lacing his fingers together to pull you further and further down his rock-hard cock. Sloppy and moving with no rhyme or reason. “Because they fucking hate me. All of ‘em will look at our kid n’ you - so round and pretty and see me. All me.” 

Now, you’ve heard of orgasms that come out of nowhere - ones that have you convulsing and gripping onto Gojo - the desk, his shoulders, his hair. And this was no different. “Ah! Hngh, Toru m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Delirious, white-hot pleasure cracking behind his eyes, Gojo’s pumping hot thick, hopes ropes of cum into your poor, overfilled pussy. And shit no thrill of taking out the elders could compare to watching the way his seed drips down the side. Slow, and thick, pooling at his quivering balls as he fucks you like an animal. Over and over and-

“Hey, sweetheart, y’think if I cum in you again, they’ll come out twice as strong?”

“...”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[hotchscoffeecup]

from across the bar

summary: an observation here and a sarcastic retort there is a sure fire way to catch agent hotchner’s attention at the hotel bar. after sharing a drink, he invites you to his hotel room where he gives it you just the way you ask for it: rough.

tags: light bondage, minor self-degradation, hand sex, oral sex, p in v sex, ass slapping, rough sex

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

rating: m, mdni

word count: 4.2k

Goosebumps bristle across your skin; the sharp bite of winter’s wind whipping against your cheeks and tossing your hair about your face. You fold your arms across your chest, tucking your hands beneath your biceps and thinking you ought to have worn a thicker coat. The thin suede Calvin Klein duster you’re wearing flutters about your ankles as the doorman tips his head in greeting and pulls the door wide. Heat rushes out to greet you and you smile in thanks as you cross through the threshold.

Friday night at The Ritz-Carlton is as busy as any bar or restaurant in DC. Men and women dressed in exorbitantly priced suits and dresses mill about, laughing and cavorting over drinks; standing at cocktail tables or seated at the bar or sleek leather seated areas interspersed throughout the modern space. Recess lighting creates a dim ambience that gives Hollister a run for its money. Your lips twitch and you have to fight to school your facial expression. The opulence is unnecessary, but you roll your shoulders back and situate yourself at the bar anyway, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you do so.

“Something to drink?” a bartender asks, placing a drink menu in front of you.

You smile politely and push the menu away. “A riesling, please.”

“Riesling? That’s awfully sweet, isn’t it?”

Your brow arches in response to the deep tenor rumbling a few seats down from you. You spare a glance in his direction and note the way in which he swirls the scotch in his hand. You’re half convinced that no one actually likes scotch; that it’s more about men establishing dominance around other men while they all pretend to enjoy a drink that tastes like paint thinner.

He is quite handsome though; from the strong set of his jaw to the dark slash of his brow, everything about him exudes leadership and power. A lawyer, perhaps. His suit is tailored to fit his lean frame, an expensive watch peeking out from beneath the cuff of his dress shirt.

You thank the bartender as they place a long stemmed glass in front of you. You take a long slow sip, enjoying the crisp white wine.

“Careful, big shot” you warn, not looking in his direction. “Sweetness often masks the taste of poison. You ought to know,” you say, inclining your chin toward the glass in his hand.

He chuckles wryly and sips his whiskey, “Scotch is an acquired taste.”

You roll your eyes and check your phone, noting the lack of text notifications or any sign of a missed call and slip it back into your coat pocket.

“Not the message you were expecting?” he asks and he seems genuinely curious.

“It’s the lack thereof,” you grumble and take another sip of wine. Five minutes late is one thing, fifteen is a different matter altogether without any attempt to reach out.

“Stood up on a Friday night,” the man arches his brow and blows out a slow breath. “That’s rough.”

“I was not stood up!” you counter defensively. You take a quick breath and actually turn to face him. Your heart stills momentarily as you take in the amused look in his dark brown eyes and the smirk tugging at his lips. Quickly coming back down to Earth, you blink several times and cross one leg over the other.

You feel his eyes level on you and you struggle to come up with some quippy retort. As he sips his whiskey, you can’t help but notice how strong his hands look; his wide palms and long fingers dwarfing the glass in his hand. For a split second you wonder what it would feel like to have those fingers wrapped around your throat or tangled in your hair.

“Wedding ring,” you almost blurt out.

His brow furrows and you point to his left hand, indicating the tan line on his fourth finger. His hand flexes around the cup before he sighs. “Divorced.”

“Ah,” you say, taking another sip of your wine. “So, that’s why you’re drinking alone on a Friday night?”

“I’m not alone,” he replies coolly, arching a brow as he regards you.

His keen stare forces a rush of heat to flush to your cheeks. A smirk tugs at his lips in response to the obvious scarlett trailing across your face and neck.

Taking a deep breath, you finish your glass of wine, stand, and shuffle down to occupy the seat beside him, your high heeled boots clacking against the tiled floor. With a newly emboldened confidence, you place your hand flat against his thigh, boosting yourself up onto the barstool as you level your gaze on him from beneath curled lashes.

His eyes widen slightly, but you see a spark of a challenge flare to life inside them. “What’s your name?” he asks.

You reach for his tie, gently tugging on it. You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Forget my name,” you say coolly. “You clearly came out tonight looking to meet someone and it looks like my plans have changed.”

“I have a suite on the 7th floor,” he says.

You offer him a wicked smile, “Then what are we still doing here?”

•

As the elevator doors pings, signaling its arrival in the lobby, the man extends an arm, holding them open for you to enter first.

“A gentleman too,” you remark as you slide past him letting your body brush against despite the ample room to avoid doing so. The heady scent of his cologne sticks to you and you wonder if you’ll be smelling it on your skin here soon.

He steps inside and presses the button for the seventh floor. As the elevator doors begin to close, someone rushes toward them, trying to get on but the man doesn’t move to hold them. “Take the next one,” he says as they seal shut.

He pounces the second they do, one hand curled around your waist and the other tangled in your hair; your combined body weight thudding against the paneled wall of the elevator. His lips crash against yours, and your lips instantly part for him; groaning into his open mouth. This only seems to drive him further and you feel his erection pressed against your thigh.

“Eager, are we?” you breathe against his lips before nipping at the shell of his ear.

His left hand curves around your ass to cup it in his large hand as his other curls around the back of your neck, using his thumb to angle your chin up towards him. “You have no idea,” he says, voice husky as he moves to suckle the hollow of your throat.

You fist the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer to you. You moan against his mouth eliciting a deeper one from him. As the elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the seventh floor, you peel yourself off of him and slip through the doors right as they open leaving him panting and aching for more.

Giggling to yourself, you don’t wait for him as you head toward his room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he calls after you seductively. With a breathy laugh he adds, “You don’t even know which room it is.”

“Oh, don’t I?” you tease. Without turning back, you raise your hand in the air, his key card tucked between two fingers. “You really outta keep better track of your belongings.”

The sound of him slapping his pockets and grumbling curses brings a cheeky grin to your lips. You slap the key against the keypad and buzz inside the hotel room, slamming the door shut just before he reaches you.

A dark laugh rumbles from beyond the door and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Undoing the belt at your waist, you shrug out of your coat and toss it over the nearby sofa. He knocks on the door and in a voice just above a whisper he starts to detail what he’s going to do to you once you let him inside. Your black high waisted trousers accentuate the curve of your waist, the black lacy corset teddy you’re wearing underneath pushes your breasts up and out.

As you move to open the door, you swipe his badge from your coat pocket, the other item you’d managed to swipe from his suit jacket.

He opens his mouth to chastise you, but instead he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as his eyes drop to the swell of your breast. He leans into his arm that’s stretched up above him where he holds onto the doorframe.

Pouting, you fold your hands behind your back and rock back and forth on your heels. “I’m sorry for locking you out,” you say coyly. “Tell me though,” you say, leaning forward, looping your arms around his neck. “Do you have a pair of handcuffs somewhere on you to go with this badge, Agent Hotchner?”

Pulling your one hand free from around his neck, you flip open the leather bifold and dangle his own photo in front of his steely gaze.

His lips press together in a firm line as he looks from his badge to you, though the smile doesn’t slip from your mouth. He pushes his weight against the door frame and peers over both shoulders before taking his forearm and pushing it into your chest, forcing your back against the doorway and knocking the air from your lungs. Your chest heaves and your abdomen clenches as you bite your lip, eyes flicking from his mouth to his eyes. He dips his chin so his lips are level with your ear.

“I don’t need my cuffs to keep you at my mercy,” he growls.

The breath in your lungs stills and you feel your pulse increase, thrumming inside your neck. Wrapping his tie around your knuckles, you gently tug him towards you. “Then give it to me, rough, G-man.”

He wastes no time. Releasing the door frame, he drops it and loops it around your waist before yanking you against his muscular frame. He walks you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him and the door automatically locks.

His grip on your hips is bruising and you love the ache of his hands on you as he guides you to the bed. His lips seek yours out and when they find them, you slip your tongue between his lips. You can still taste the scotch on him. As you fold your hands into his hair, you gently suck on his lower lip, grazing your teeth along it and savoring the moan that elicits from him.

When your ass touches the edge of the bed, he pushes his pelvis against your hip, his erection digging into your thigh. You yearn to feel that hard length inside your pussy, but you know it won’t be that easy. You’ve played too many games with him tonight to win him over that easily. You lower your weight onto the bed and wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer.

“So?” you ask, offering a flirtatious glance whilst skirting the toe of your boot up the length of his leg. “What’s the verdict on those cuffs, Agent?”

His fingers curl around your bare shoulders and toy with the straps of your teddy. “I’m not carrying them tonight,” he says after a while. He moves to loosen his tie and your belly clenches as you wonder what he plans to do with it.

“Hands out,” he orders, and the authority in his voice is so natural you immediately feel compelled to listen.

He slips his tie from around his neck and winds it around your wrists, tying them together snugly, but not so much to cut off feeling to them. He grips the loose end and aggressively tugs you towards him so that your chest is flush with his.

You splay your fingers out against his chest and try to reach for the collar of his shirt to start working on the buttons when he yanks your wrists away.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs. He releases his hold on your makeshift restraints and shifts both hands under your ass. With a grunt, he picks you and shifts your weight so that you’re sat fully on the bed.

“Lay down,” he commands. “Arms above your head.”

As you slowly do as he asks, your lips curl into a wicked smile. “Yes sir, Mr. Hotchner.”

He emits a low groan as his name tumbles from your mouth and you know his cock is straining in his pants. Again, you try to tease him through his trousers with the toe of your boot, but his reflexes are too quick and his hand snaps out to catch your ankle. He arches one dark brow at you before focusing his attention on unzipping each one at a relentlessly slow pace. Your pussy throbs in anticipation of what’s to come and you bite your lip as he straddles your waist, one knee on the bed as his other foot remains on the floor. His eyes are fixed on yours as his fingers make quick work of the buttons of your pants. As his fingers curl around the hem and begin to wind them down your waist and hips, you can’t help but reach up and try to run your fingers through his hair.

Immediately, he snatches your wrist from midair and slams it into the mattress. You gasp and try not to giggle, excited by this show of brute force.

“Don’t move.” His voice is low. “If you can’t follow instructions, there will be consequences.”

You push your lower lip forward, “And I hate to suffer those at your big,” you enunciate each word, “strong, hands.”

Hotchner keeps his obsidian eyes, sharp as knives, daggered on you for a second longer, before releasing your wrists and sliding your pants down and off your legs.

“Now this,” he says, trailing a finger down the lace up front of the corset styled teddy. “Makes accessing want I know you so desperately want me to touch a little difficult, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe, you should check again Mr. Hotchner,” you reply with a flutter of lashes.

He regards you curiously, but there’s a dark amusement glinting in the depths of his irises. His hand slinks around your calf, and that alone elicits goosebumps up and down the length of exposed skin. As his hand trails up the inside of your thighs, your muscles quake as you allow your legs to fall open for him.

His lips part as he discovers the missing fabric between your legs. His brow curves as he regards you with keen interest. “One way or another you knew you were getting fucked tonight.”

“One can never be too prepared, can they?”

“No,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss your inner thigh. You squirm as he presses his hand flat against your belly, fingers splayed out as he slowly drags them down toward your center.

“Now let’s see just how ready you are, shall we?.” He sinks one long finger inside you and you groan. “So wet,” he murmurs, slowly sinking another finger inside of you. You feel the moisture pooling, how quickly the torturously slow rhythm of his fingers heightens your arousal. When his thumb presses against your clit and begins moving in slow circles, your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Oh, Aaron,” you say, dragging out his name. Your hands fumble to grip onto the sheets as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, maneuvering his fingers each time to strike your g-spot in rhythm with the circular motion around your clit. The wet sounds of his hands wringing pleasure from your body alongside him murmuring filthy things is too much. You need more.

“Please,” you say, arching your back against the mattress in an attempt to draw his fingers in deeper. “I need more.” You hook a leg around his waist and pull him against the edge of the bed, not missing the way his throat strains and eyes roll back at that thought. He increases his speed and without warning withdraws his fingers. You immediately miss their presence, but then suppress a scream as he dives face first into your pussy. His tongue delves into your center, devouring your pleasure. His slick tongue finds your clit, swirling and sucking on the sensitive nub and your pleasure centers are firing on all cylinders.

You dig your elbows into the mattress and push your hips into the air, pressing yourself against his mouth and he moans against your pussy. You feel the deep tremble reverberate against your walls and cry out as it becomes too much to bear in the best way possible.

He grips your hips and you kick you legs up around his neck, drawing him in as if he could get any closer to you. You clench the sheets above your head and cry out, his name on your lips as pleasure builds in your abdomen, pulsing through you all the way to your core. He shifts then, and before you can wonder what he’s doing, he takes a breath and sucks your clit between his teeth. You hiss at the unfamiliar sensation and swear you see stars when his fingers plunge deep into your pussy.

You come instantly, your orgsam surging through you like electricity. You feel it through every inch of your body, from the tips of your toes to the ends of your tousled hair. The aftershocks are still coursing through you as Hotchner tightens his hold on your hips and with a grunt of effort, flips you onto your stomach and yanks you closer to the edge of the bed. The sound of a belt unfastening and zipper coming down is all the preparation you receive before he slaps your ass and the hard length of his cock slams into you. You cry out with ultimate ecstasy as he fills you.

Turning your face into the mattress, you gasp and grunt with each forceful thrust. Your pussy clenches around his thick girth. The slap of flesh on flesh is all that can be heard as he pumps himself in and out. He releases a sharp breath and winds his fingers into your hair, tugging on it. You cry out and moan as you turn to look at him over your shoulder, finding great satisfaction when you watch him melt under your sultry smokey eyed look.

“Come on, baby,” you urge and you see his restraint crack. “Take what you want.”

His brow pinches and unfurrows as his grip starts to falter.

“Use me,” you push, delighting in the way his lips press together as he fights to hold on to his release.

You press your ass higher into the air, allowing him to plunge deeper into your core as his thrusts become less controlled and his pace becomes erratic.

“You don’t,” you grunt and moan as he strikes your g-spot again and again, “even know my name.” You breathe out and groan as you turn over your shoulder once more. “Let me be your whore, Agent Hotchner.”

Hot, thick ropes of cum erupt from his cock into your pussy. He holds onto your hips so tightly, you know you’ll have bruises in the morning. You relish in his pleasure as much he relished in yours. When he stops shaking, he slowly lowers your hips onto the mattress and smooths his fingers over the tender flesh there.

Easing you on to your back, you feel his cum slip down your inner thighs as he clambers over you and tenderly kisses your face and neck. When his lips brush yours, you taste yourself on him.

You reach up and hands still bound, brush the hair from his forehead. He smiles as he reaches up and undoes the knot with one swift move. The tie instantly unravels and he casts it aside. You place your hands on either side of his face, thumb stroking the sharp curve of his jaw.

“Let me help get you cleaned up,” he says gently, eyes soft.

You nod, “I think I’d like that.”

He cradles you into his arms and carries you to the shower where he places you on the tile floor and cranks the water on. As steam begins to fill the room, he helps you out of your negligee. Without words, you turn and push his blazer off of his shoulders. You do the same with his dress shirt and let him kick out of his shoes and socks before curling your fingers around the hem of his pants and underwear and kneel to draw them down over his ankles.

He loops his arms around your waist as you stand and kisses you slowly as he guides you back into the walk-in shower. The warm water cascades over your skin, soothing your taut muscles. You close your eyes as he tilts your head back and smoothes your hair away from your face. He places feather light kisses along your jawline as he pumps body wash into his hand from the dispenser on the wall.

“How do you feel?” he asks as he lathers the soap between his hands and smoothes it over your shoulders.

You release a moan of a different sort as his fingers massage the soap into your neck and back. You turn around and lean against the wide plane of his chest as he curves his hands around to wash your breasts and stomach.

His voice is amused when he speaks. “That good, hmm?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm.

He laughs softly in your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple. He continues to wash your body, treating each limb like a holy object the way he handles you with such delicacy and adoration. When he finishes with you, he washes himself quickly and exits the shower to retrieve two plush towels from beneath the sink. As you work to try yourself off, he fetches the robes provided to each guest from the closet in the main room.

You admire the softness of his stomach contrasted with the hard angles of his face and lean musculature of his arms and legs. He really is a beautiful man.

“Thank you, Agent.” You say with a wink as you take it from him.

He laughs. “You and titles. I thought we’d agreed on no names.”

“I said you didn’t need to know my name. I never said anything about yours. What can I say? I love a power play. After all, you must be used to that in your big, bad FBI office, hmm?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Something like that.”

You continue to towel dry your hair and smile back at him. “I guess this game of ours has reached its end. I gotta say, I had a wonderful time.”

“It doesn’t have to end,” he says with a suggestive arch of his brow.

Tilting your head back and forth, you weigh your options. “How about this?” you say, taking a measured step toward him. His eyes widen, surprised by your sudden prowess. “You and me,” you say slowly and stand on your toes so you can purr directly into his ear, “drop the ruse, order room service, and watch a movie on Netflix?”

He pulls away, expression unreadable for a moment. You keep your eyes on him, waiting, and then smile when his posture visibly relaxes. “Honestly, that sounds great, babe, I’m exhausted.”

A grin pulls across your cheeks as you dash into the room and grab your purse. Returning to the bathroom, you reach deep into your bag and unzip the pocket in the inner lining. You fish out your wedding rings and place Aaron’s in his hand before slipping yours back onto your finger.

“The crotchless lingerie was a nice surprise,” he says as he adjust the simple gold band on his finger.

Your lips quirk into a grin, “Yeah, I thought you’d like that little surprise.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss you. “Seriously though, how’d I do?” he asks. “I’m not used to using my office persona around you. It’s a lot harder than I thought it’d be. With you, it’s so easy to leave work at the office and relax.”

“Well I certainly hope you don’t do that at the office.”

He chuckles. “You know what I mean!” He waves his hand absentmindedly. “The hardened exterior, the stern, hard voice, expressionless. Dominating. I’m never like that with you.”

“Naturally,” you tease, voice light. “I’m so full of fun and whimsy. It’s hard not to come back down to Earth from your Bureaucratic cloud of murder and mayhem when you’re with me.”

He loops his arms around you, hands flat against your back. “Five years of marriage and you still manage to keep me on my toes, more so than some of the men and women I’m paid to track down and put away.”

You pull back and look up at him. “You love the sex bucket list, be honest.”

He can’t fight the grin that tugs at his lips as he nods. “Role playing as two strangers that meet at random is definitely up there with the things we’ve done so far.”

“More fun than when we played naked Twister with the body paint?”

“Ooo, don’t make me choose.”

He dials room service, ordering plenty of food and desserts to refuel after your exciting adventure into role play and as you climb into the California king bed with him and snuggle against his chest, you silently thank whatever divine forces exist in the universe for every opportunity you get to spend with him like this; your lover, your husband, your everything.

[moonstruckme]

bodyguard!james when you have a panic attack 🫣

Ty for requesting!

cw: panic attack

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James draws closer to you. The older, stern-looking woman you’re talking to glances at him. It’s James’ job to blend in with the wallpaper, but he’s shirking those duties now for one more important. 

You follow the woman’s gaze, noticing him behind you. “Oh, hi.” You smile at him. It’s convincing, a good attempt at hiding how you’re feeling, but James knows you well. “I’m sorry, this is James. James, Linda.” 

“Pleasure to meet you.” James gives Linda a smile of his own. He knows who she is of course, everyone here tonight was pre-vetted by his team and he’s memorized her face as one of the safe ones. He shakes her hand, settling the other lightly on your back. “Sorry to steal her away, but” —James looks to you— “could I talk to you for a minute?” 

You give Linda an anxious glance, and he presses his hand more firmly to your back. A cue.

“Of course.” Your smile blooms again, this one apologetic. They’re all lovely, but James prefers the genuine ones. You say to Linda, “I’ll find you later, okay?” 

“Yes, please.” Linda gives your shoulder a fond squeeze, departing the conversation politely as James starts to guide you away. 

There’s a smaller room not far from you, usually connected to this main one but curtained off for the event. No one notices you slip through the curtain. Your quickening breaths are ten times more obvious in the quieter space. 

“It’s okay.” James supports you the rest of the way to the couch on the other side of the room. You sink down onto it on shaky legs. “You’re fine, angel.” 

You don’t move once you’re sitting, so he maneuvers your body for you, turning you sideways and bringing your feet up onto the couch so you can hug your knees the way you like to. Taking care of you is James’ job, but he thinks he would do it either way. He can’t imagine a life in which he isn’t looking after you. He unzips the back of your dress and starts taking off your shoes. These straps always give him trouble; he doesn’t know how you manage them.

You make a low, pained sound. James feels it in the back of his throat. “James—" 

“I’m not undressing you for everyone to see,” he says lightly. “Only loosening things so you can breathe. It’s just us here, yeah?” 

You nod, closing your eyes. Your breaths sound like they hurt. James doesn’t know what set you off, but these attacks are something you’ve dealt with before. He has a sense of what you need. 

“Sweetheart.” James finally succeeds in getting your shoes off. He clasps his hands over yours firmly, all piled atop your knees. “Just take a breath. One good breath.” 

You try, he sees you trying. But it seems like the air won’t settle in your lungs. Your eyes dip just south of his chin, as though you can’t stand to look at him while they grow distant and shimmery. 

“Good,” James praises you anyway. “You’ve got it, lovely, you’re okay. I know it’s hard right now, but can you do something for me? Tell me five things you can see.” 

You don’t want to. You never do, it’s clearly a lot of work to focus in this state, but eventually James coaxes you into identifying five things in the room. One of them is the earpiece he uses to communicate with the rest of the security team, which makes him smile. 

“I don’t usually call it my spiral cord thing,” he jokes, “but good job. Let’s do four things you can hear, yeah?” 

You get to three before you start crying. James’ heart aches. He hates to see you cry, but sometimes it does help you. You’re going to be upset about your makeup after, though. You fold your face into your knees, and he reaches over you to rub your back. 

“I know.” Your skin is warm beneath his touch, the whole of you shaking. “I know it doesn’t feel like it’s getting better, but it is. You’re doing a great job.” 

“I can’t—“

“Hey, you can. You can, sweetheart. You’re doing it already, you just can’t tell yet. Here, I have something for you.” James changes tactics, fishing in his pocket. He holds a bottle of lavender oil near your face. “Smell this.” 

You pick your head up, looking at the bottle before sniffing tentatively. 

“More than that,” he encourages. “Breathe it in. It’ll help.” 

You take the best inhale you can. Your nose runs and sweat glistens at your hairline, but you try for him. James praises you amply, taking deep breaths for you to copy. He isn’t sure if you notice him doing it, but eventually yours start to match his, slowing and lengthening until you’re getting true lungfuls of the lavender scent. 

James keeps it by your nose. With his other hand, he rubs your calf. 

“You’re okay,” he sighs. “How do you feel now, lovely?” 

“Okay.” Your voice still shakes, but now more with aftershocks than true adrenaline. “Sorry, I don’t know why that happened.” 

“You don’t have to know.” James pinches your nose clean, something in his stomach tightening when you shy. “I’m sorry it happened, too, but it’s not your fault.” 

“I should…” You take a big breath. James frowns and rubs your calf again. “I should go back out.” 

He makes a soft, reprimanding sound. “Not yet. Give yourself a few minutes. You need a break. They’ll all be okay without you for a bit.” 

Your eyes go to the curtain separating you from the main room. You look at it as though you can see right through and every guest at this event is standing on the other side, tapping their feet and muttering about where you’ve gone. 

“Take a break,” James says again. “You thought you were dying a minute ago.” 

“I really did,” you admit. “I thought it wouldn’t feel so much like that after the first time.” 

James hates to see you upset. He presses a kiss to the center of your forehead and puts the oil away. Squeezes your knees in his hands. “Are you going to be okay if I go out there for a minute? I just need to grab a couple of things.” 

You nod but watch his hands ruefully as he stands and they fall away from you. “What do you need?”

“Napkins, mostly.” He gives you a sorry smile. “Obviously you look beautiful no matter what, but I think you’re going to want to clean your face up.” 

“Oh, god.” You touch your fingers underneath your eye, feeling the tackiness of smudged makeup. “Thank you.” 

“Stay right there,” James warns. “If you’re doing anything other than breathing when I get back here, we’re going straight home.” 

You roll your eyes good naturedly. James feels relieved you’re feeling well enough to do it. “You’re the boss.”  

“I’m in charge of your safety,” he says. “So, yeah, I am the boss right now. Stay right there.” 

You hold your palms up in a show of surrender. James is happy to report that as he goes out the curtain, there’s a smile teasing your lips.

[mechaknight-98]

Trepidation (NSFW) FT Dahyun

Operator’s notes: Ah yes I remember why Dubu was my first biases. It's always weird coming to your first and confronting who you were and what you used to be. As I grow she will always have a soft spot in my heart and can be written about any time.

"Are you not wearing a bra either?" I ask noticing that her breasts look extra perky under the dress. Dahyun smirks, and I respond.

"When you get home tonight I am going to fuck you all over." Dahyun smiles. She turns around and lifts the dress just enough so I can see her pale bare ass, and I really have to fight the urge to just pound her glistening pussy until she screams my name again and again.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She coos. I smile as I remember how different we are.

"What happened to the good Christian Girl I met at bible camp?" I tease.

"She's still in here, it's just you know things change baby." she asserts, "What about the devoted Christian boy I met at bible camp? When did he become this insatiable writer and musician?" I chuckled and said

"When the world burned."

She smiled as she left for her fashion show. I sat at the chair's desk as I was considering my next move. Do I wait for Dubu to get home and run the risk of being disgustingly horny for her? Or do I enjoy the city and get her something I know she'd appreciate? The latter won out. I left our little temporary abode to explore the city.

"Sorry I couldn't invite you." was the text I got 45 minutes later with a picture. I considered opening it but knew it would be a bad idea. She had always been the excitable type. Easy to laugh with and around. Always pushing boundaries but for the right reasons.

It reminded me of when I met her for the first time all those years ago.

I wasn’t expecting much from the summer camp, to be honest. Just another week of bonfires, awkward icebreakers, and singing along to acoustic guitars under the stars. It did get me out of the last major week of preseason workouts for football so I took it. I had signed up at the last minute and was dragged into it by my youth group friends who seemed way more excited about spending a week in the middle of nowhere than I was.

But I was, sitting on the worn wooden benches, squinting in the early morning sun as campers trickled in. That’s when I saw her—this girl with bright eyes and a smile that seemed too wide for her face. She was laughing, chatting with a group of kids near the front. Something about her stood out like she didn’t fit the usual camp vibe. She was small, but her energy was huge.

I noticed her before I even realized it. She was the kind of person you couldn’t help but notice.

And then, as if it was nothing, she caught me staring.

Before I could look away, she waved. Not the polite, distant kind of wave you give to strangers, but the full-on, excited wave you grant when you see an old friend across a crowded room. Except I had never seen her before in my life.

She started walking toward me. I felt my stomach do this weird flip, like she was a celebrity or something, though she definitely wasn’t. At least, not yet.

“Hey!” she said when she got close, her voice carrying this bright, chirpy tone. “I’m Dahyun. Is this seat taken?”

I blinked, not sure why she was choosing to sit with me when she clearly had a whole squad already. “Uh, no, go ahead.”

She dropped down onto the bench next to me, folding her legs under her in a way that looked way too comfortable for the stiff, splintery wood. She turned to face me fully, her wide smile still there, like she was genuinely excited to talk to a total stranger.

“I’m—uh—" I stammered, completely thrown off by how forward she was. “I’m, uh, Daiju.”

She held out her hand for a shake like this was a formal introduction or something. I took it awkwardly, and she gave it a firm shake, way more confident than I’d ever been.

“So, what brings you here, Daiju? Just trying to survive the week like the rest of us?” She laughed, and it was this carefree, musical sound that made it impossible not to smile back.

“Pretty much. My friends kind of forced me into it. I’m not really… you know, the camp type.”

She tilted her head, studying me for a second, and then shrugged. “Yeah, same. My church sent me. I usually just hang out on the piano during stuff like this, but they said I had to get out more. Make friends.” She wiggled her fingers in the air, as if "making friends" was a strange concept.

“You play piano?”

Her eyes lit up, and for a split second, I saw a different side of her—like she was picturing something far beyond the camp, something she was passionate about. “Yeah, a little. And I sing. You know, just for fun.”

“That’s cool. I, uh, I can’t really do either,” I admitted, feeling a little embarrassed. “I tried guitar once, but I’m pretty hopeless.”

Dahyun laughed again, nudging me with her elbow. “Well, you’ll get plenty of practice this week. Trust me.”

I wasn’t sure what it was about her, but something told me she was right. That week was going to be different. Something about her made everything feel like it mattered more than it did before.

And that was just the first ten minutes. The rest of the week was a blur as I got to know Dahyun more. When I wasn't with my youth group I was with her in the instrument room listening to her play the piano. During one of these sessions, she noticed that I was always tapping a beatline to whatever she would play. She had me go to the drums and handed me two sticks before saying. "Don't speak. Don't think. Feel" Confused I sat next to the drums under her patient gaze. I had grown quite fond of that particular look and felt. I started with a simple beat of drum you stomp then started hitting the big circle drum on the right, then incorporated the other kick one that had the cymbals attached. Dahyun was amazed.

"I knew it. You do have talent," she said as she scurried back to the Piano. She started playing again and I adjusted my beat to match or better align with her melody. as I jammed with her for that moment. I felt at peace and that this was where I was supposed to be and who I was fated to be with. After our little Jam session, I noticed both of our youth groups were watching. They were shocked.

"Daiju you can play the drums?" Josiah asked

I shook my head as I got up, Dahyun called for me and I turned around she had the biggest smile before she ran over to me and said, "Don't let your heart lose itself." I smiled and said

"I won't," I said with weak confidence.

Taken out of my Little trip down memory lane I found myself at our favorite restaurant, before heading back to our home.

When I arrived I set the food down and went to the drum kit next to the piano, and I began to play.

Dahyun came home tired but when she heard me playing the drums her heart soared. It had been quite some time since she last heard me play.

It reminded her of the last year before she entered to be a trainee with JYP.

It had been a few months since the camp ended, and life had gone back to its usual rhythm. School, homework, and hanging out with friends. But something had stuck with me from that week—the memories of late-night talks with Dahyun by the campfire, the way her voice sounded when she hummed along to the guitar, and the fact that, out of all the people there, we stayed in touch.

We hadn’t spoken much in a couple of weeks, so when my phone lit up with a video call from her, I couldn’t help but smile. I tapped to answer, and there she was, her face filling the screen, that same bright grin instantly bringing me back to the camp.

“Daiju!” she greeted, using the nickname she had started calling me for no reason other than it made her laugh. “What’s up?”

“Not much, just the usual grind. You?”

She leaned back in her chair, her face slightly dimming as the light from her screen flickered on her features. “Yeah, same here. Well… sort of.”

I raised an eyebrow, picking up on the hesitation in her voice. “Sort of?”

Dahyun bit her lip like she was trying to decide whether to say something. Then she sighed, leaning in closer to the camera. “Okay, I’ve got something to tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

“Freak out? Now I’m intrigued,” I said, leaning forward as if that would bring me any closer to whatever she was about to say. “What’s going on?”

She laughed nervously, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Alright, so… you remember how I told you I sing, right? And play piano?”

“Yeah, of course. You were basically the camp’s unofficial performer.” I grinned, remembering how she’d turned every free moment into an impromptu concert, even if it was just humming some random tune. “Why?”

She paused and then let out a deep breath. “So, this is kinda crazy, but… I got scouted. Like, to be a singer. For real.”

For a moment, I thought I’d misheard her. “Wait, what? Like, scouted as in…?”

“As in, someone from a company heard me sing during this church event back home, and they think I have potential. I’ve had a couple of meetings already.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke, the excitement mixing with nervous energy. “I might actually become a trainee for this K-pop company. It’s still early, but… it’s real, Daiju.”

I stared at her through the screen, trying to wrap my head around what she just said. “You’re serious? Like… K-pop? Like the stuff you hear on the radio?”

She nodded, a huge smile spreading across her face. “Yeah. I know, it’s insane, right? I didn’t believe it at first either, but they’re really interested in me. They want to train me—vocals, dance, the whole package.”

I blinked, trying to imagine her in that world—the girl I met at camp, the one who was always so down-to-earth, suddenly living this intense, high-pressure life as a potential star. “Wow… that’s incredible, Dahyun. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Me neither, honestly,” she said, laughing. “I mean, I’m excited, but it’s kind of scary too. Like, I’ve always loved singing, but this is next level. The whole training thing is intense. It’s not just fun anymore—it’s serious.”

I could see the mixture of excitement and fear in her eyes. I knew she was capable, but the reality of that life was overwhelming, even to think about.

“What do your parents think?” I asked, still trying to process everything.

“They’re supportive, but they’re worried, you know? I mean, it’s a huge commitment. If I go through with this, it’s going to change everything.”

I nodded, understanding the weight of what she was saying. “Yeah, I get that. Do you want to do it?”

She went quiet for a second, her eyes drifting off-screen like she was looking for the answer somewhere in her room. Then she smiled softly, a different kind of smile—one that felt more certain, more grounded. “I think I do. I mean, it’s scary, but it feels like an opportunity I can’t pass up. I’ve always wanted to do something with my music. And now… maybe I can.”

I watched her, feeling a strange mixture of pride and anxiety. It was amazing to see her chasing her dreams, but a part of me worried about what would happen to her—what would happen to us—once she stepped into that world.

“Well, whatever happens, I know you’ll be amazing,” I said, meaning every word. “You’ve got this, Dahyun. I mean, I knew from camp that you were going to do something big. This is just… huge.”

She smiled again, this time more relaxed. “Thanks, Daiju. That means a lot. I’ll keep you updated, but… if this works out, things might get really crazy.”

“I can handle crazy,” I said, grinning. “Just don’t forget about your campfire singing buddies when you’re famous.”

She laughed, the sound filling the call with warmth. “I could never forget you guys. And hey, maybe one day I’ll get you backstage at one of my shows.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

The call carried on after that, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about how everything was about to change. For her, for me—for both of us. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

Dahyun opened the door to our shared home and said, “Looks like that spark never left.”

I looked up, smiling at her. She was still in that sexy dress I loved, her eyes glowing with warmth.

“Well, my lovely lady friend never gave up on me, so I never gave up on her.”

Dahyun gave me her cute, gummy smile and a nostalgic glint flashed in her eyes. “This reminds me of how we met two years ago.”

We laughed, letting the memory of the past wash over us. It felt good, to remember how simple things used to be. But even as we laughed, something inside me tugged at the years in between—the time when things weren’t so easy.

It was right after she signed with JYP, just after the whirlwind of training sessions, vocal lessons, and dance practices took over her life. At first, we tried to keep in touch. Text messages, voice notes, and the occasional video call when she had a moment to breathe. But as the weeks stretched into months, it became harder and harder to keep our connection alive.

One night, I was waiting for her call. We hadn’t spoken in days, and I knew she was busy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. The time apart was starting to weigh on me. I watched the clock, waiting, the silence filling the space between us.

Finally, my phone buzzed. A message popped up: “Hey, sorry! Can’t call tonight. Long practice. Will try tomorrow. Miss you!”

I stared at the screen, the words feeling hollow. Tomorrow? What happened tonight? What happened to us?

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to cancel, but this time, it felt different. The gap between us was growing wider, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reach her. It wasn’t her fault—her dream was coming true, and I didn’t want to be the one to hold her back. But a part of me ached every time I thought about how little time we had left together.

And then, as the weeks passed, the calls stopped coming altogether.

I remember the exact moment it happened. It was a few months after Dahyun’s debut. I was sitting alone, scrolling through social media, when I came across a picture of her at some event—glamorous, smiling, surrounded by fans and fellow idols. She looked so happy, so distant from the girl I once knew. It hurt as I had grown immensely fond of her but I guess it was just never meant to work out.

That was when I realized I wasn’t part of her world anymore.

I tried to convince myself that it was for the best. Her life had changed, and I didn’t fit into it anymore. The constant rehearsals, the endless schedules, the strict rules from her company. I knew about the restrictions—no dating, no public relationships, no distractions from the career. She had become something bigger than us, something bigger than me.

But it still hurt. I missed her. And, little by little, I had to let her go.

Years passed, and I moved on—or at least I thought I had. Life in LA had become routine. I had a decent job, good friends, and a steady rhythm to my days. Dahyun had faded into the background of my life, a distant memory I tried not to think about too often. I had put my instruments away and stopped playing altogether, it just hurt too much.

Until that day.

I was walking through the bustling streets of LA, lost in thought when I saw her. She was standing on the sidewalk, her back turned to me. Sunglasses perched on top of her head, her hair a little longer than I remembered. She was dressed casually, blending in with the crowd, but there was something about the way she stood—the confidence, the grace—that made me stop in my tracks.

Without thinking, I called out, “Dahyun?”

She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the crowd before landing on me. For a second, I thought I was dreaming. There she was, right in front of me, looking just like she had all those years ago. The same bright smile, the same spark in her eyes.

“Daiju?” Her voice was soft, and hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she was really seeing me.

I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, after all the silence between us, here she was. “It’s… it’s been a while.”

She smiled, a little nervously, but there was warmth there too. “Yeah. It really has. Wow, you've gotten so tall.”

I chuckled and said, "Yeah I guess that's true, but I mean look at you? you look gorgeous." Dahyun gave me a gummy smile as she did a little dance for me. I smiled as she did

We stood there, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, the noise of the city fading into the background. Everything that had happened between us, everything we had lost, hung in the air between us like a ghost.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

She laughed, a soft, bittersweet sound. “Me neither. I… I thought about you. A lot.”

I looked at her, trying to read her expression. “Did you?”

She nodded, taking a step closer. “Yeah. I wanted to reach out, but… you know how it is. The company, the rules. It wasn’t just about me anymore.”

I swallowed, feeling the weight of all the things I had wanted to say over the years. “I get it. You were living your dream. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

She looked down at her feet, her smile fading slightly. “But I missed you, Daiju. More than I can say.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. All the hurt, all the time apart, it didn’t matter anymore. Not when she was standing right in front of me.

“I missed you too,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, with a deep breath, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with something I hadn’t seen in years—hope. “So… what now?”

I smiled, feeling the old spark between us flicker back to life. “Well, I guess we could start with dinner. It’s been a long time since we had a proper catch-up.”

She laughed, a sound that was both familiar and new at the same time. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Later, we found ourselves sitting in a quiet little restaurant, tucked away from the bustle of LA. The place was cozy, dimly lit, the kind of spot where you could have a real conversation without being interrupted.

“So,” I said, setting my drink down. “What’s life been like for you? I mean, apart from the whole ‘global superstar’ thing.”

She smiled, a little shyly, stirring her tea. “It’s been… overwhelming, honestly. Everything happened so fast. One day I was training, and the next, I was performing in front of thousands of people. It’s been amazing, but exhausting too.”

“I can imagine,” I said. “Do you ever get any time for yourself?”

Dahyun shrugged, her expression softening. “Not really. I mean, there are moments, like now, where I can just be me. But most of the time, it’s all about the image, the performance. It’s… a lot of pressure.”

“I’m sure,” I said, leaning forward. “But you’re handling it. I can tell.”

She smiled, her eyes glinting with that old fire. “I’m trying. But you know, sometimes I miss the simpler days. Like when we were at camp, just hanging out and making music for fun.”

I nodded, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “Yeah, those were good times.”

She looked at me for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. “You know, I’ve got a show tomorrow night. It’s in town. You should come.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I’ll get you a backstage pass,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It’ll be just like old times—except with a few more lights and a bigger audience.”

I chuckled, feeling that familiar warmth spreading through me. “I’d love to. It sounds amazing, but I'll have you know I still don't speak Korean.”

Dahyun smiled, her hand brushing mine across the table. “ That's fine. Then it’s a date.” after dinner we smiled and went our separate ways.

The next day I got a call from Dahyun on where to meet here and when. I arrived a little early as did Dahyun as we pulled up nearly at the same time. She jumps in my car and says,

"So what kind of music do you listen to now?" she asks,

"Mostly metal and rap. However, I did do a crash course on Twice and Kpop as a whole."

Dahyun smiled, "Ooh, and Do you have any favorites?"

"Oh yeah G-idle, Fromis_9, and Le Sserafim," I responded. Dahyun pouted.

"I meant our songs."

"Oh, I am so sorry."

"Okay here is my list of top favorite Twice songs: Perfect World, Hello, Moonlight Sunrise, and Feel Special."

"Oh, you like Perfect World?"

"Are you kidding me? That song is amazing and you all look so gorgeous," I said with a smile as I pulled up the album. "You know the girl with the short hair and the tanned skin she is so beautiful. I might have a crush on her." I tease. Dahyun looks at me devastated, and I laugh before saying, "Don't worry you still have my heart." Dahyun relaxes as she looks at me before we head to the stadium. All is quiet as we sit next to each other, before heading in.

The dimmed lights of the concert hall hummed with quiet intensity as the crowd outside waited for the show to begin. But backstage, it was a completely different world—organized chaos, as staff members hurried back and forth, setting up equipment, testing sound systems, and finalizing last-minute details.

Dahyun, dressed in casual yet chic stage prep clothes, led me through the maze of backstage corridors, her hand occasionally brushing against mine. The air smelled of makeup, hairspray, and that electrifying mix of anticipation that only a concert venue could have.

“So, this is what it’s like behind the scenes, huh?” I asked, glancing around at the bustle.

“Yup,” she said, smiling at me. “Crazy, right? It’s a whole different vibe back here.”

“It’s a lot,” I admitted, taking it all in. “But I guess you’re used to it by now.”

Dahyun shrugged, her expression softening. “Kind of. You never really get used to the adrenaline before a show, though. But it’s fun. It’s like… home in a weird way.”

As we walked, she pointed out the different sections—wardrobe, hair and makeup, and the green room where the members usually chilled before going on stage. She was mid-sentence, explaining how the stage setup worked when we rounded a corner and nearly collided with two familiar faces.

Jihyo and Nayeon stood there, arms crossed, grinning like two kids who had just stumbled on a secret.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” Nayeon teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she eyed the space between Dahyun and me.

Dahyun stopped in her tracks, her cheeks flushing a light pink. “Oh, hey guys. I, um—this is Daiju,” she said, a little awkwardly.

Jihyo’s eyebrows shot up, her grin widening. “Daiju, huh? As in the Daiju?” She nudged Nayeon, who giggled like she was in on some joke I wasn’t privy to.

“Yeah,” Dahyun muttered, looking mildly embarrassed. “This is him.”

Nayeon took a step forward, extending her hand to me with an exaggerated flourish. “Nice to finally meet you, Daiju. Dahyun’s mentioned you before.”

“She has?” I asked, glancing at Dahyun, whose face was growing redder by the second.

“Only a million times,” Jihyo chimed in, stepping up beside Nayeon. “You’re the guy from the camp, right? The one she wouldn’t stop talking about?”

Dahyun shot her a warning look, but Jihyo just laughed. “What? It’s true! You were all ‘Daiju this, Daiju that’ back when we first started out.”

“I was not!” Dahyun protested though she wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Nayeon said, winking at me. “She definitely wasn’t gushing about you during practice breaks. Nope, not at all.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, watching Dahyun squirm under their playful teasing. “I guess I made an impression.”

“You did,” Dahyun muttered, still embarrassed but with a small smile creeping onto her face.

Jihyo and Nayeon exchanged glances, their grins growing even wider.

“Oh, this is too cute,” Nayeon said, clapping her hands together. “You know what this means, right, Jihyo?”

Jihyo nodded sagely. “Oh, definitely. Dahyun, you’ve got to bring Daiju on tour with us. We’ll need some moral support backstage. And you’ll have someone to stare at you with heart eyes while you’re on stage.”

Dahyun groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You guys are the worst.”

Nayeon laughed, patting Dahyun’s shoulder. “Relax, we’re just messing with you. Besides, we’re happy for you.”

Jihyo nodded, giving Dahyun a warm smile. “Yeah, seriously. It’s good to see you like this, Dahyun.”

Dahyun peeked out from behind her hands, a sheepish grin tugging at her lips. “Thanks, guys.”

Nayeon turned to me, her eyes twinkling again. “You’re coming to the show tonight, right?”

“Yeah, Dahyun invited me,” I said.

“Good,” Nayeon said with a mock-serious nod. “Make sure you scream really loud when we’re on stage. Especially during Dahyun’s solo.”

Jihyo smirked. “Or better yet, hold up a big sign that says, ‘Marry me, Dahyun!’ That’ll definitely get you noticed.”

“Guys!” Dahyun groaned though she was laughing now, her earlier embarrassment melting away.

I just grinned, playing along. “I’ll see what I can do about the sign.”

Nayeon and Jihyo burst out laughing, and even Dahyun couldn’t help but giggle. It felt good, to be here with her, surrounded by her friends. There was something natural about it, like even though years had passed, and our lives had gone in completely different directions, some things hadn’t changed.

“Well, we’ve got to go finish getting ready,” Jihyo said, waving as she and Nayeon started to walk away. “We’ll see you later, Daiju!”

“Good luck!” I called after them.

Once they were out of earshot, Dahyun let out a long breath, shaking her head with a smile. “Sorry about that. They’re… a little much sometimes.”

“They seem fun,” I said, still grinning.

“They are. But I swear, they never let me live anything down.”

“Sounds like they care about you a lot.”

Dahyun smiled softly. “Yeah, they do. They’re like my second family.”

I could hear the fondness in her voice, and it made me realize just how much her life had changed. But standing there, backstage with her, sharing laughs and old memories, it felt like maybe I still had a place in her world.

She looked at me, her eyes twinkling. “Come on, I’ll show you where we do soundcheck. You’ll get to see the real behind-the-scenes magic.”

I followed her deeper into the backstage maze, the air buzzing with excitement. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was falling back into place. As I watched the concert I fell back in love with Dahyun all over again. She was so at ease. So charming on stage I couldn't help but be proud of her, but also felt a deep sadness settle in as the concert wrapped up, because I knew this renewed connection was temporary, and when Dahyun walked off stage and her eyes met mine she felt it too.

She walked over to me and hugged me tight before leaning in close.

"I don't want to lose you again." you both said while you embraced.

Dahyun looked up at you and memories of video calls, and all the time spent together have you overwhelmed emotionally to the point you say

"Dahyun I love you and I always have. Can we figure something out?" Dahyun smiles and then says

"Of course."

The memory collapses now as I bring her in for a kiss. Dahyun's arms wrap around my shoulders as I carry her to the bed. I watch as her dress does little to hide her deadly curves before setting her down on our bed.

"I have been waiting for you all day," I say as I lift up her dress to see her delicious pale body.

"Oh stop teasing me and fuck me, my good Christian boy."

"Ah well, anything for the good Christian girl I saw as we kiss again.

[withahappyrefrain]

Just a Game

You and Peter like to play a game. It requires no trivia or plastic pieces. Just two people and feigned innocence.

Warnings: CNC (which has been discussed explicitly) unprotected sex, language, minor breeding kink at the very end

You and Peter like to play a game. 

It's not a board game, though you two enjoy those from time to time. Not a video game, though Peter has expressed interest. 

This game doesn't require any trivia knowledge or plastic pieces. No one has to keep track of points. There isn't a timer. 

All this game requires is a surface and your two bodies. 

Sometimes it was a couch, when you two were in the middle of watching a movie. Other times it could be your kitchen counter, dinner be damned. Rarely, it would be the back of a car, which was your favorite. Peter’s favorite-against a wall- depended on when and where. 

Today the surface was your shared bed. 

It started innocently, like it always does. Peter found you curled up in bed, reading. He hadn’t considered playing today. But then he saw you, wearing only one of his hoodies and those pastel yellow panties that drove him wild. 

It didn’t help that Peter could smell you. Though the cover of your book didn't look out of the ordinary, your arousal revealed the true nature of your reading choice. 

“What’cha reading ladybug?” He asked, curling up to you. 

You put on an innocent smile, keeping the book to your chest, “Oh nothing. Just one of those silly romance books.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “Silly? Let me see.” 

Before you could squeak out an objection, Peter snatched the book away, his eyes scanning the page you were on. 

“He pushed her dress up to her hips, revealing her wet core. He dove in, lapping up her arousal like a starved man, his mouth quickly attaching itself to her clit.”

Sometimes you got so caught up in playing your role. Peter had said much dirtier things to you and yet there you were, head in your hands and a warm flush coursing through your body. 

Peter placed the book on your nightstand before bringing your hands away from your face. 

“Oh baby. You’re too sweet to be reading something like that. Why don’t we cuddle instead?”

With his brown puppy dog eyes and sweet smile, he actually sounded genuine. For a moment, you thought he wasn’t inviting you to play. Not when he had his head in your lap, practically purring as your fingernails gently scratched his scalp. 

But then his long, nimble fingers made their way under the blanket, grazing against your bare skin, drawing shapes along your thighs as he made his way up your body.

“Peter.” His name was said in a sweet, sing-song voice, “Thought you wanted to cuddle.”

He sat up, pulling you closer, “I do bug.” Peter's other hand was now underneath your shirt, creeping up to your chest.. 

“Peter,” you could barely breathe, too enthralled with how good his fingers felt kneading your breasts, “This isn’t cuddling.” 

“I know,” He sighed, as if he felt some guilt about what he was doing, “But doesn’t it feel good bug?”

You could only nod, breath hitching up when one of his large hands began to toy with the elastic waistband of your panties. 

The foreplay was fun, but it wasn't the main focus of the game. 

That didn't come until you were underneath him, completely bare and withering as his hard cock slid between your soaked folds. It was a battle, fighting the urge to jerk your hips up, potentially catching him. 

“Peter, w-we shouldn't,” your voice was shaky as you tried to come across as worried rather than in a pleasure laced haze.

“I know. We shouldn’t.” He's panting. Peter's lips ghosted over your bare skin, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses. 

In this game, your birth control and five year relationship didn't exist. 

No. In this game you were wide-eyed and innocent. In this game, both your heads were clouded with lust, longing threatening to overtake common sense. 

“Maybe,” His voice is soft, addictive. “Maybe I-we-just the tip?” 

You throw your head back when the head of his cock makes contact with your clit. Desire racked through your body, fingers creating crescent shaped marks along his back as you searched for something, anything to ground you amidst the pleasure haze that was clouding your judgment. 

Part of you wanted to break character so he would fuck you sooner. 

But where was the fun in that?

“But we-fuck- we don’t have a condom?” A box of condoms was currently stashed away in your nightstand. You had been on birth control for years. There was no concern.

Again, not in this game. 

With your wide, doe-like eyes, sweet voice, and withering body, Peter was truly surprised he hadn’t come already. 

But where was the fun in that? That didn’t allow him to play, to take off the friendly neighborhood hero mask and act out his deepest desires. 

His head dropped down to your chest, his thin pink lips quickly latching on to one of your breasts. Your back arched in pleasure, hands grabbing Peter’s soft chestnut locks upon feeling the scrape of his teeth. His hips continue to thrust forward, reminding you of what was within reach. 

“I know, forgot to bring some. It would just-just be the tip,” He sounds like he just ran a marathon. You’re so warm and wet. Everytime the plush head of his cock nudges against your clit, he can feel your walls clenching, trying to catch him, enticing him in. 

“Peter,” the way you moan his name is sweeter than any song he’s heard, “We-no. Peter, don’t.”

He’s already grabbed the backs of your thighs, hitching them up to your chest. Now he has the picture view of his cock sliding through your slicked folds. You have the prettiest cunt Peter’s ever seen and God, does he want to use it.

Your hips twitch as he nudges his cock towards your all too welcoming entrance, entranced by how your walls eagerly suck him in. Eyes roll to the back of your head upon feeling the head of his cock begin to stretch you, nearly forgetting your role in all this. 

“W-wait!” You try to prop yourself up, try to jerk your hips away. 

But Peter is stronger. It drives you crazy, his strength. His hands grasp your shoulders, pushing you back down onto the mattress. 

“It’s okay bug. Just the tip, remember?” The ambered irises are blown out with lust. Combined with the downright wicked smirk adorning his handsome face, he looks more devilish than heroic. 

It thrills you. No one else sees this side of him, only you. Only you does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in these desires. 

For a few moments, it's only the tip, sliding in and out of your tight walls. 

Sometimes he’ll dive right in, other times he'll drag it out, as if Peter is truly at war with his morals when it comes to your sweet cunt. 

“Just….just the tip,” he whispers, as though he’s trying to convince himself, trying to convince you. 

The outcome is clear, but you still nod your head. “Just the tip,” you agree. 

“So…fucking tight,” He watches where you two connect in awe, lips parted, “So warm. God…feel fuckin’ incredible.” 

The praise leaves goosebumps on your skin, almost distracting enough to not notice that Peter has been slowly pushing his cock in more and more with each passing moment. Your body betrays you, hips jerking upwards in a desperate, near pathetic attempt to get more of his cock. 

Sometimes the game is hard to keep up with. There have been times where you both forfeit, craving each other far too much to continue. 

If Peter noticed you breaking character, he didn’t acknowledge it. He’s too mesmerized by the way your cunt eagerly welcomes him. 

“Fuck, baby, m’sorry, it’s-you feel s’good.” His speech is slurred, drunk off your body. Before you can react, he thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. 

Finally. 

“Pete-no! We can’t!” You plead, despite your body enthusiastically welcoming the intrusion, “You said-ah! You said the-the tip!”

His cock twitches at your words, at the feigned concern in your voice. His lips ghost over your face, hips increasing the speed of their thrusts. 

“I know, I know,” it’s almost convincing, that he truly feels bad for this, for giving in to lust. As if neither of you wanted it. 

He picks up his pace, shushing your fake protests. His cock feels incredible, so full. No matter how much prep beforehand, the sheer size of Peter is still an adjustment. 

“You'll- you’ll pull out, right?” You gasp, eyes meeting his. 

“‘Course bug,” He chuckles. 

He won't. But it's the false promises that keep you going.

“As-ah- as long as you pull out, it's okay, right?” You're committed to the role of the naive girlfriend, Peter will give you that. The concern in your eyes is incredibly convincing. 

Sometimes he's so caught up in the euphoria of you that he forgets to play along. All he has to do is look you in the eyes to remember his role. 

“Yeah, it's okay. God, feels incredible. Your pussy.” He hitched your legs further up until they were nearly resting on his shoulders. The change in angle allowed him to thrust deeper, reaching the spot that made you see stars. 

Bliss quickly overcame you, causing you to focus less on the game and more on the coil that was currently winding up in the pit of your stomach, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“God, you're clenching me. Can barely pull out.” His pressed his lips against yours, capturing them in a messy kiss. 

You shake your head, “Y-you should. Peter!”

But Peter continues, relishing in how tight you're gripping him. It's addictive. 

“Everytime I try to pull out, your little cunt sucks me back in. Think she wants me to stay.” His words elicit a downright desperate whimper from you. 

“How’s this? I'll stay ‘till ya cum.” His composure was incredible, his voice so soft you almost believed him. 

Almost. 

Weakly, you nodded as Peter’s perfidious promise promptly pershing into the periphery of your mind. Who could express you to focus, when his nimble fingers were toying with your clit? 

Your pleas to stop fade away, occasionally a feeble no falling from your lips. His massive hands were all over you, kneading at your soft skin, sure to leave bruises. 

It's one of the best things to Peter, waking up and admiring the work he did on your body from the night before. 

But for now, he could enjoy another favorite-you. It was cute, nearly adorable how your legs shook, your hips jerking upwards, desperate to get more despite already being full of him. The pathetic whimpers that fell from your lips, unable to form anything coherent. With each thrust, your breasts bounced against your chest. 

It was picturesque. Peter wished he could grab his camera to immortalize this moment, but that would break the illusion. 

So instead, his fingers skim your soft skin, tracing over your plush curves, downward until he reaches his desired location. 

After all, he promised he'd pull out once you cum. So why not help? 

His fingers on your clit felt like lightning, sending a crack of electricity up your spine. It's euphoric, you can't even bother to play along, hands gripping the strands of his hair tightly as the bedroom is quickly filled with your moans. 

When you finally get pushed over the pleasurable edge, it’s loud. There are no whines or pleads for Peter to pull out. Only raucous moans that fill the bedroom, combining with the erotic sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

“Shit, feel s’good. S’fuckin tight,” He pants, “Babe-baby. You feel s’good. Don’t know if I can pull out.”

His words jolt you out of the lavender haze, reminding you of the part you were still playing. 

“N-No. You can’t!” 

Peter nods his head, though he’s not agree with you, “M’sorry,feel s’good.”

You try to sit up, to put up a fight. But just as you do, you’re pushed back down, your hands above your head, enclasped with Peter’s. His body covers you like a warm weighted blanket, the kind where it’s so soft and deceptively confining, you can’t get up even if you wanted to. The spicy scent of cinnamon that always lingers on his body floods your nostrils, his mouth swallowing your pleas to stop as his hips erratically slam into yours. 

It was blissful. You were enraptured by Peter, by his body, roleplay be damned. Your legs wrapped themselves around his lithe waist, pulling him closer. 

Peter reaching his own high triggers yours again, walls clamping tightly down on his cock as he floods you with his warm. 

“Baby, m’s’sorry, feels too good,” it's then you register he's still rutting his hips against yours. 

Well this is a new move. Usually the game ended at this point. 

The chance to prolong, to try something new was thrilling. 

So you shook your head. “Peter!” Your moan contained more desire than it did distress, “N-no, you need-oh- pull out!” 

But Peter just grunts. It's so animalistic, your thighs clench at the sound. His refractory period was much shorter than anyone else you had been with, no doubt thanks to a radioactive spider bite. 

Now sensitivity is surging through your body, pain and pleasure mixing together. He's hitting the spot that makes you see stars, the spot you didn't think existed until you met Peter. 

It's getting harder to stay in character. But as long as Peter is trying, so will you. 

“Y-you promised you'd pull out!” 

“I know,” he groans in your ear, “Shouldn't have such a fucking tight cunt then. Don't know how ya expect me to pull out.” 

His teeth sink down into your throat, earning a sharp gasp. 

“God, your cunt,” the scruff of his beard scratches against your skin, “Think you want me to cum in ya again.” 

You shook your head, “No! Please!” Fingers claw at his strong back to no avail. He continues with his harsh thrusts, paying no attention to how your mixed arousal was leaking onto the sheets. 

“No- stop!” But that wasn't your safe word. 

He could tell you were already close, your moans increasing in pitch, how your walls were clinging to his cock. 

You just needed a little help getting there. 

“Gonna cum in ya again. It might just take this time. Is that what you want? For me to fuck a baby in ya?” 

The illusion of your feigned innocence shatters, his words igniting a flame in you that can't be fanned out. 

You're now wailing, nodding enthusiastically at Peter's words. Fingers which were once clawing at him now grip his shoulders. Instead of jerking away, your hips move upwards. 

“Y-yes! Want it to take s’bad! Please fill me up!” 

Your voice was nearly unrecognizable; whiny and desperate. It only spurs him on, his cock thrusting into you at a near bruising pace. 

Peter's next high is with your’s, hips stuttering as he fills you once more. He knows he could go again, but everyone needs a break, an intermission before the next act. 

The next few moments, you two are speechless. The only audible sounds are that of heavy breathing and the overhead ceiling fan.

“Well, that was fun,” you chuckled, running your fingers absentmindedly through his hair. 

Peter finally made eye contact with you. His eyes are dark, almost black with lust. The grin on his face is downright wolfish. 

“Oh sweetheart, I'm far from done with you.” 

You were in for a long night. 

[concreteangel92]

Be Careful What You Wish For

Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Warnings: Cum play, mentions of spanking, dom/sub relationship, slight humiliation kink and degradation kink (not too heavy) male masturbation, just Noah being a typical brat tamer

So this is kinda filthy even for me ahaha but it’s not massively detailed as it’s a head canon styled piece but I am working on proper detailed works as we speak so hopefully I will get those out soon.

This actually started as an idea from the other fic I’m writing but it didn’t fit into that scene properly so I decided to make it a separate piece so the thought wasn’t wasted haha and fyi the story I’m currently writing has definitely been inspired by the new tour content, that’s absolutely feeding me right now 🥵

Masterlist

•You’ve been playing up all day and winding Noah up in front of people when he’s been working

•Just genuinely being a brat because you found it funny that day

•That’s fine but Noah would 100% punish you for it when you’re alone

•You’d be face down on the counter, underwear round your ankles while counting each spank he delivers

•But what’s one more dig?

•”That the best punishment you got? I’m getting bored of it now”

•Those spanks would instantly stop

•”Is that so?”

•Oh yeah, he’s pissed now

•You’d feel Noah’s grip on your hip tighten and hear the sounds of his trousers hitting the ground

•”Spread your legs”

•Noah would have a deeper growl in his voice, clearly not impressed with your attitude, but that’s ok, he’s happy to take it up a notch just teach you a lesson

•You’d feel his fingers scissor you open with a dark chuckle “bored are we? Do you want to tell that to your dripping cunt”

•That would most definitely pull a low moan from you, now Noah loves dirty talk, but to be that vulgar is very rare, even for him

•You could feel movement behind you and hear the sounds of him groaning and skin slapping on skin

•”So my punishments aren’t good enough eh?…” You could hear his words get caught in his throat, you knew he was touching himself behind you, his other hand now not leaving your hip

•”Well lucky for you…shit….I’ve got the perfect punishment for your cocky little attitude”

•You’d keep your head on the counter, pussy aching to be touched but you know that’s not going to happen any time soon

•“Did I forget to mention….that the guys will be here…any….any minute for the afternoon?”

•Noah hadn’t mentioned that they were all coming round for a gaming afternoon, you suddenly felt a sense of fear at what he had planned

•Noah’s groans became louder as he sped up his pace, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer

•”fuck..I’m gonna cum”

•You’d feel him release onto your heated core, Noah would quickly bring your underwear back up and press the material into your folds, making sure not to let any of his juices slip out down your thighs

•You’re eyes would go wide, a choked moan escaping your lips as you now knew what his punishment was, it felt so wrong and dirty but fuck me were you turned on

•You’d hear Noah fix his clothes and then he’d grab you by your throat, bringing your back onto his chest so he could talk into your ear

•”let’s see how cocky you are walking round with my cum in your pants, and don’t think you can run away and hide baby. You’re going to sit with us until I say otherwise, is that clear?”

•”I’m in a dress, what if it…slips out?”

•You’d receive a hard smack to your ass and then Noah turned you around so he could stare down at you

•”You should have thought about that before you decided to be a brat and telling me that my punishments are boring”

•Noah grips your chin and gives you a hard kiss

•”Be careful what you wish for baby”

•That’s the moment you’d both hear keys in the door and the guys walking in with pizza boxes, Noah pulling your dress back into place and stepping away from you

•You’d do your best to walk normally and act all innocent when everyone started chatting, trying to sit without anything ‘leaking’

•Your cheeks would have a permanent blush for the afternoon

•All the while, that cocky smirk never left Noah’s lips as he stalked your every move

[mythicmanuscripts]

I have read all your Aemond stuff multiple times, I can't get over how well you characterise him!!

You wrote about Aemond's very awkward but oddly sweet reaction to thinking you were ordering him to do something and then from there how he loves to do things for you.

So, I was thinking, there was probably a period between giving Aemond that order and him showing his full subby side and letting you dom him. So, I was wondering if you had thoughts on this? Like the other stuff he does, how he reacts, etc I just thought it could be cute!

I hadn't even considered this but oh my god yes you are so right there would be a period before Aemond starting being properly subby with you where you basically just had the world's scariest personal assistant and every single person in the castle was beyond confused so let's discuss this more cause I love it.

So after the incident of Aemond thinking you wanted him to pour your wine and then you having to get an empty glass just to let him do it and then thank him, what follows is a very confusing two weeks or so.

Aemond knows how LOVED how it felt to pour your wine and be praised for doing so. He just felt so proud? He knows it's such a small thing but seeing that he pleased you just made him feel so warm, made him feel like maybe this marriage can work.

However, the problem with Aemond is that there's no way in all the seven hells that he's actually going to tell you this. That is much too scary and vulnerable and he's so sure you'd think he was utterly pathetic for that.

Though that doesn't stop him from constantly trying to be in situations where you would ask him to do something? He doesn't want to admit it out loud, so he kinda just follows you around and tries to get between you and any objects you might need and runs over whenever he sees you carrying something, just anything he can think of. He also bans the servants from being present at meal times when it's just you and him because he doesn't want to lose an opportunity to pass you something.

(He's pathetic, he knows this and he hates this but he can't stop hunting for that feeling he had when you thanked him)

To Aemond's credit, it does work sometimes. Sometimes you will ask him to get something or pass you something and every single time he just smiles so sweetly.

At first you're genuinely concerned about him because this is absolutely nothing like the Aemond people talked about and the Aemond you met before the wedding. So yeah you're a little confused, but you can tell that for whatever reason, Aemond seems to really enjoy doing those things for you.

Part of you thinks you must be imagining it, because you can't work out why he could possibly want to do those things. So you decide to put this to the test properly.

When the servants bring your washed laundry to your chambers, you tell the to just leave the clothes on your bed and not pack them into your cupboard. The servants are very confused, but they can't exactly force you to let them back away your clothes so they leave them. As they're about to leave, you ask them to please find Aemond and let him know his wife would like to see him in her private chambers.

About 20 minutes later, Aemond arrives. He's in shock that he's even allowed in your private chambers. As with most high class arranged marriages, you and aemond each have your own private chambers and then a room you two share. Aemond didnt think he would ever end up seeing your private chambers and he feels very special that you even let him in.

And then, without explaining anything, you ask Aemond to pack away your clothes into the cupboard. You thought for certain that he would outright refuse that and then things would go back to how they were before.

But to your shock, Aemond actually smiles?? And he immediately starts folding the clothes, taking the utmost care and double and triple checking that all your dresses are hung correctly to prevent wrinkles. While he does this, you just lay on your bed reading, glancing up at Aemond every now and then.

It's such an odd sight, the feared one eyed prince folding laundry and seeming utterly content.

When he finishes, he turns to face you and let you know. When you look up at him, he's looking at you and seeming very nervous.

When you thank him, his shoulders relax a little and then very softly he just asks, "Did I do well?"

You promise him that he did, and then you really go into it, telling him that he did so well and he's helped you so much and you're so privileged to have him as your husband. He's smiling when you finish thanking him, looking so relaxed.

There was something about the way he looked at you then, something so oddly vulnerable, something precious. You're not quite sure why you ask this, but you ask him if he would like to lay with you and you'd read your book out loud for him.

Aemond immediately nods, removing his shoes and sword and then getting onto your bed. He starts off laying opposite you, but his eyes keep on drifting down to your lap so you tell him he can rest his head on your lap if he would like.

He starts to say that he would never ask that of you, but you interrupt him and say, "You've done so well, come lay here with me, you've earned it" and that makes him stop immediately and shuffle forward to get close enough to rest his head on your lap. He hugs your legs, curling around you and closing his eyes as he listens to you read.

You're not quite sure what is even happening, and it's very clear that your new husband has more to him than meets the eye, but he's also clearly not yet willing to explain himself more. But this is okay for now, this is more than okay.

Pretty soon your number of personal servants halves just because Aemond keeps on doing so many things that they are supposed to do.

[lasciviouspoison]

my first full length smut fic! this shit took weeks to edit ngl, but it was worth it. with that being said, there are probably still some mistakes so excuse those, lol. tw: breeding, eren calls himself “daddy”, word “mommy” is used, reader and eren are extremely (heavy emphasis on extremely) frustrated. not a tw, but like i always say, this is for my chubby black women, but all are free to read <3

eren has loved you for an extremely long time. he’s spoiled u, fed u, he’s even dressed you head to toe while you were sick.

yet, all of this spoiling and caring for u, does not warrant your brattiness right now.

he’s been studying tirelessly for his midterm for about 2 weeks now, finally on his last day of review before his test in a couple of days. yet, he can’t seem to focus because you keep coming in and out of your shared study every three seconds.

“‘ren, where are the extra washcloths?”

he looks up from his textbook, glasses falling off his nose a bit. you’re even dressed like a brat, skimpy little white tank top and baby pink panties. it makes his head hurt worse than the passage he’s read over 4 times now.

“there’s no way you’re asking me where fucking washcloths are right now. there’s no way.” he says with some bite to his voice. he just needs to finish these last two pages and the longer it takes him, the more it kills him.

your arms cross over your chest, pushing your bra-less chest up and exposing a bit of your chubby stomach. “does it look like i’m joking with you? where are they?”

he clenches his jaw and in a very clipped tone, he responds that they’re under the sink. you scoff slightly and walk out, making an effort to slam the door a bit harder than necessary.

he sits back in his chair and throws off his glasses, big tattooed hands wiping his face. eren knows he’s been neglecting you, and it’s killing him just as much as you. he’s tired of coming home from class too tired to touch you. he’s tired of you having to tell him to go lay down after his head rocked one too many times over his dinner plate.

he’s tired, but he’s not gonna let you act like a bitch just to get what you want. simply because it’s fucking working.

he pushes up from his desk and walks out of the study. he hears the bathroom cabinets opening, so he does everything but sprint to get there.

you peer over your shoulder at him and roll your eyes, “they weren’t under the sink. in fact, they’re all dirty cause, you know, you act like you can’t help with laundry anymore-“

erens grabbed you by the nape of your neck and brought your body close to his. you can hear his semi-heavy breathing despite still being bent over, which caused your heart to race a little. although you knew eren would never hurt you, it doesn’t mean that his pent up energy won’t go to waste.

“a couple things: one, don’t talk to me like i’m a fucking child. two, i do still help with laundry, there’s a whole basket full of folded shirts sitting on the bedroom floor that i didn’t get the chance to put away. and finally, you that cock hungry, or are you genuinely mad at me?” he finishes with a finger running up your spine, back arching at the feeling. he knows this rills you up, which is perfect for him. you don’t get to frustrate him and remain unscathed.

your eyes widened a bit, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop eren’s hand from moving. you could feel just how hard he was and it made you think that he almost had it worse than you. however, that doesn’t mean your just gonna lay here and take it.

“get the fuck off me eren” you said through tight lips. his hands now steadily making their way under your top, with you making no advances to stop him.

he bent down towards your ear as his body almost covers yours entirely, with his fingers now gently pulling at your nipples.. “you know what’s funny? you can act mad at me all you want, but this pretty pussy is never ever mad at me. maybe i should gag you and let her do the talking, at least she’s not a fucking liar” at this point, eren’s hands feel like hot coals against your body. while they slowly make their descent back down your body, you can feel your resolve slowly melting away under his touch.

before you could reply, his fingers begin to softly move along your covered slit, causing your breath to hitch. you push your hips back a little and eren gives you a breathless laugh in return.

“i know i’ve neglected you pretty baby. daddy’s really sorry, just let me make it up to you. i promise, you can have me all night if you just tell me what you really want”. sometimes, you swore that you could hear the smirk on eren’s lips.

you shook your head no and felt a soft slap to your pussy. you wanted to scream at him and tell him just how badly you missed him, but your mouth refused to open. you bit your lip once he began touching you again, attempting to coax a confession from your pretty lips.

you felt him bend over once again, this time to place small kisses behind your ear, kisses that started to travel down your neck and onto your back. the entirety of his ministrations were torture, but it was when he stopped kissing you and replaced his lips with his tongue to lick a stripe up your back that you really wanted to cave.

eren’s middle finger finally found your bare clit, the initial contact causing you to jump hard against his body. small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to maneuver on his fingers before he stilled your movements.

“m’not doin anything more till you tell me the truth. what do you want from me baby? tell me and i’ll give it you ya”.

you try to grind against his fingers once again before a hard smack to your ass forces you to stop. his grip on your hips tightening, letting u know that he’s really gonna deprive you until you speak.

“want you to touch me ren! wan’ you to fuck me so fucking bad!” you finally scream out.

every gives you a small chuckle before his middle and index finger burry themselves into your cunt. his body almost shakes at warmth you provide. blood rushing straight to his dick, making him indescribably hard.

“that’s it baby, that’s all i wanted to hear.” he sounds breathless, almost like he’s the one that’s been getting teased.

he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you, a small squelching sound coming from your sopping pussy. your grip on the cold marble counter top has your knuckles turning white. at this point, you’re so desperate for more that your meeting his fingers half way.

with tears threatening to run down your chubby cheeks, you make pleas for more. “ren please, please gimme more. i’ll be good i promise!”

he feels so bad. you’ve never acted like this, even when the two of you were still forced to live separately on campus. the desperation in your voice is surprising him just as much as it’s surprising you.

because he knows you like it when he fucks you with his hair down, he pulls his hair from his already loosening bun and all but rips his sweats off. dick hitting his bare stomach with a heavy thud.

he takes his fingers out of you and rips those pretty pink panties off, he makes a mental note to buy you another pair.

he rubs himself between your sticky folds till his cock is shiny, hitting your clit a couple of times in the process, drawing more whines from you. all he can do is look down in awe. it’s amazing to him just how wet you get from just a couple of fingers, but who can blame u? his dick’s been throbbing for four days straight.

he finally anchors himself and spits, emitting a soft puh before he smiles. you’re such a mess underneath him and he can’t wait to make it even worse. he finally starts to push in, but your tight little cunny won’t let him in no matter how gentle he tries to be.

“lemme in baby… please lemme in” his voice is so strained it’s making u gush even more.

“i’m tryin!” you say with a pout, tears running down your face.

eren knows you’ve always been big on eye contact when the two of you fuck, it’s almost necessary… so, he hooks his fingers into the side of your mouth and forces your head to lift. finally you were able to see that tattooed chest and pretty face, and he was able to see those pretty eyes and beautiful tear stained face.

almost immediately do you loosen up and he accidentally on purpose pushes all the way in, causing the both of you to moan loudly.

“there you go baby, take it for me ya spoiled fuckin brat”. his hands have found purchase on the fatness of your hips, his grip so tight that you think he’ll bruise you. not that you’ve ever cared.

“fuckfuckfuck” is all you can say as you watch his facial expressions through the mirror. his hair is down and there’s tiny beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. he’s gone slack jawed while stroking you, a relaxed expression gracing his pretty face. no matter how many times he’s buried himself in your warm walls, he’s never gotten used to how good u feel. once his green eyes make contact with yours and that smirk graces his face, it makes u realize just how in control he is no matter how gentle he may look.

“squeezin’ me so tight baby.. u miss me that much?” he says with a breathless laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm. the both of you know that going this long without touch was both odd and frustrating. it caused the both of you to miss each other equally, hence why this could be categorized as some of the best sex you’ve ever had.

at this point, he knows you’re gonna cum soon, he can feel your walls pulsing and eren feels like his dick is gonna pop.

“g’nna cum rennie, g’nna make a mess on yo- ugh fuck!” your little hands balling into fists as he hits that spongey spot in you. you can hear just how hard he’s thrusting into you, each stroke sounding more sticky than the last. it’s making your eyes cross and toes curl.

your convinced he’s gonna kill you with that horse dick of his one day.

“let it out baby, i’ll clean it up the mess, wanna feel you cum on me.” even he’s getting whiny now, so it’s only a matter of time before you-

“-ohmygod eren!” you cum so hard that your body’s shaking and your knees are buckling. thankfully, eren’s always there to catch you.

despite chasing his own nut, he desperately wants to see you ride out your orgasm. he’s so desperate that he’s picking you up by your hips, forcing you to do small circles against his waist cause he knows it drives you crazy.

however, it doesn’t take long before he’s digging deep into you again, the force of his thrusts causing your head to bounce a little harder than intended.

“god i’m gonna cum so hard in this pretty pussy. i’m so fucking sorry i neglected you baby.. never again, god i’ll never do it again baby i promise. gonna fill you up okay? awe, you like the sound of that yeah? make you the prettiest mommy for me. promise i’ll take care of you forever. god i love you”. he’s rambling and his voice is getting rough. it’s only a matter of time before he cums.

after finding some strength, you finally look back and smile at him and that’s all it takes for eren to cum. his face screws up and his warm hands slide up your back to make you arch a little deeper. you wish you could run your fingers through his hair so badly, but you couldn’t ask for a better view of your beautiful boyfriend.

after a few moments of silence, eren finally comes down from his high with a big huff of air. gently, he spins you around so you face him. he moves your curls from out of your eyes and gives you a slow kiss on the lips, hands resting gently on your chubby, tear stained cheeks.

after a few moments of silence, he starts to speak, “i meant what i said. i’m sorry i left you alone for so long baby. i just gotta pass this test.” his eyes full of remorse.

“i know eren, i just wanted some attention… it’s really easy to miss you, even if we live together”. small smiles find both of your faces and eren finally pulls out to run the two of you a warm bath.

he strips you out of your tank top and carries you over to the tub, where he holds you tightly.

after some comfortable silence, you can’t help but look over your shoulder and ask the question that’s been plaguing your mind, “you really wanna get me pregnant?”

he looks towards the ceiling and let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “i mean, eventually yes. right now? fuck no”

the two of you fell into laughter while the smell of lavender filled your noses and achy bones were finally allowed to rest.

[melanieph321]

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 3.0

(DAY 2)

Riccardo Calafiori x Reader - Difficult Part 3/3

+18

Part 1 Part 2

Reader is the media manager for Bologna FC and is reluctantly paired up to help Riccardo Calafiori with interviews after a badly played match.

Enjoy!

It was strange. You spent the weekend believing that you were fired from your job, only to receive a phone call on Monday from your boss, asking you to come fly to Milano with him.

"So....why am I here exactly?" You asked, all dressed up and in a full face set with makeup.

"What do you think, I need help with the press." He insisted.

The Bologna FC annual charity event was held in honor of the teams own foundation. Donations were made throughout the year, but the annual charity event was a chance for sponsors to meet the players and the recipients of the granted scholarships that the foundation offered.

"I get that part, but why did I have to dress up?" Your boss had been awfully specific during your phone call. Especially when it came to which hotel you would be staying at, along with what attire you should wear for the big event (high heels, black dress).

"Y/N, hasn't anyone told you that asking too many questions can be perceived as rude?"

"No. Asking questions is my job. Your job too."

"For God's sakes."

You were pulled aside. Your boss spoke to you in hushed tones. "Don't let tonight fool you. If it was up to me, you'd be long gone, fired for the shit you pulled last week. However, a certain player may or may not have refused to appear in front of the press tonight unless you were present."

"Huh, who?"

"Oh, please. Don't act coy with me. I should have known that it was more to you and Calafiori. No one has managed to get him to attend these things, let alone speak to the press about the teams work with the foundation. Just make sure that your relationship is kept under wraps until the end of the season, will you?"

"Wait, what?" You were as confused as you had ever been. "Riccardo refused to attend the event unless I did so too?"

"Here we go again, Riccardo, Riccardo. How about you stick to addressing him by last name while he's here."

"He's here?"

"Jupp. He's coming this way too."

You turned around at the exact moment that Riccardo spotted you from across the room. A smile lit up his face as he set out to approach you.

"Just remember what I said." Your boss whispered. "Keep whatever is going on between you away from the press."

"How many times must I tell you? Nothing is going on between me and...."

"Y/N!"

"Riccardo!" At the moment of his appearance, your boss gave you one last stern look before slipping away.

"You made it." Riccardo said, sounding genuinely happy to see you. You had never seen him so dress up either, with his hair brushed back and set behind his ears. "I was hoping that your boss received the email that my assistant sent him."

"Yeah, about that. You were already quite set off from the crowd. However, you took the initiative to look for more privacy. Thankfully, Riccardo respected your wishes, following you into an empty salon decorated with flower ornaments and a grand piano.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me?" He asked, speaking to you with unrecognizable grace, as if the two of you were strangers yet acquainted.

"Yeah, please tell me whatta he'll is going on?"

He frowned.

"I was fired last week." You exclaimed. "From the shit you pulled at the press conference."

Riccardo regarded you curiously, a sly smile on his lips.

"And don't tell me that you haven't had a say in me being here, because my boss just told me that you do."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do. So please, for once, be honest with me."

"Honest?"

"Yes, be honest."

"Honestly....last week made me feel like shit. Not the part where I told those journalists to fuck off. They sincerely deserved that."

Your arms folded as you rolled your eyes.

"But, I do regret getting you fired Y/N. When I noticed you missing during the post interviews of last night's game, I realized that I fucked up and needed to make things right."

"And so you brought me here, to Milano?"

"Yes."

"But, why?"

"To apologize of course."

"Well, apology accepted. Can I go now?"

"Y/N, wait."

It was the first time that you touched. Riccardo, despreatly grabbing a hold of your wrist as you turned your back on him. "Don't leave." He said. No. Demanded.

You turned back around to find his eyes shamelessly eyeing you up and down.

"I cant't belive you wore it."

"Wore what?" You frowned.

"You're boss is a real push over, you know that right?"

"I do, but in what way are you..."

He pulled you towards him. With his hand around your wrist, you stumbled forward, Riccardo catching you in his arm. "He's a real bitch."

Your faces were inches apart. The tip of your nose, the bridge between your touching lips. You smiled. "I've never heard a grown man call another man a bitch before."

He smirked, a hand reaching to remove a hairstrand from your face. "Well, get used to it, baby. You're with me now."

"God, you're so difficult to work with."

"Difficult to work with, but easy to get in bed. There's always two sides to a coin."

"Oh, just shut up and kiss me already."

It was done in relief. The smacking lips and groping hands were all done to finally release the intense sexual tension between you. It had always been there, underlying, knocking on the surface. Riccardo felt it, and so did you. Hey, even your boss jinxed it. Now, the two of you were pushed up against a grand piano with Riccardo's large frame hovering over yours as he lifted you up and laid you down on top of it.

"Fuck me."

"Don't you want to me to play with you first?"

"Play? I'm a grown woman."

He laughed and proceeded to bend down and kiss you, his lips wet and soft against your own.

Who knew that all that hot-headed temper would be put to good use. Riccardo was a fair enough football player but an even better lover. He insisted on taking care of you first, refusing for you to reach for his belt. At least not until he had you arching your back on top of the piano, begging him to stop eating you out.

"No." He chuckled, as you squirmed on top of the piano.

"Please. I'm making a mess."  Being a mess was the correct term. Once Riccardo detached his lips from between your legs, you made the effort to pat down your tousled hair, as well as wipe off any smudge lipstick.

"I hate you." You said. To which he grinned.

"No, you don't. I'm just difficult to work with."

Part 1 Part 2

[beenbaanbuun]

Not sure if this is a request or me just going insane after reading your dumbification yeo fic but oop-

Been thinking about jealous Yeosang nonstop since then because I always get a little disappointed when fics paint him as this super passive, open lover. I mean it's all well and good to be someone who's genuinely okay with their partner having multiple partners/being kinda flirty, but I honestly don't see him as the type to be that chill

I mean sure he wouldn't exactly be as loud or aggressive about it as sayyy.... Joong or Sannie, I am a switch!Yeosang enthusiast after all, but I still think he'd get upset if he saw you being too chummy with one of your guy friends or one of the other members.

Early on in the relationship it would probably be all cute, he gets pouty and quiet, maybe clingy after and he needs lots of affirmation and assurance before he feels secure again.

But once he's comfortable with you? C'mon, you CANNOT tell me he's not the type to pin you against the door as soon as you get home, hands and lips desperately latching on to you as you clutch at his hair, deep voice muffled by your skin as he seethes over That Guy who kept hitting on you or how Wooyoung was a little too touchy for his peace of mind (woo totally did it on purpose btw).

And oh my god if those angry growls turn desperate? If you're not responding verbally cuz you're just so overwhelmed by everything that's Yeo?? And he suddenly whines into your neck and nuzzles your pulse point seeking verbal affirmation??? And you grip his hair and he whimpers when you tug so he has to look you in the eye?????

I need to calm tf down before I drop a whole 1.5k word smut fic in your ask box but you get the idea XDD

Jealous yeo lives rent free in my brain and you're writing has him running LAPS TwT we as a fandom have failed to have enough yeosang smut on the market and it Saddens Me

~Lyra

i am CLINICALLY INSANE!!!!!!!! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME 😭😭😭

like i’m sorry but i can imagine him just pinning you to the door, fully clothed, and grinding up against you. his mouth is just on your neck, sucking, biting, kissing at your flesh until its mottled with purple bruises. like there’s literally no rhyme or reason, he’s just that desperate to his his mouth on you and mark you up that he barely gives you a minute to think straight.

like you’re still both fully dressed and your back is still presses uncomfortable against the door, but that doesn’t stop yeosang from bucking his hips up into yours, dry humping you because he doesn’t have the patience with you right now. he needs you to know that you’re his and his alone.

“can’t fucking believe you,” he growls before biting down on the soft flesh. you keen at the sensation, legs going weak. you’re glad he has you pinned to the door; if he didn’t, you might fall, “all over that guy as if you don’t have a perfectly good boyfriend who takes care of you. what? did you just want my attention? because now you have it.”

you whimper as he grinds down hard against your pelvis, his clothed hard-on rubbing so deliciously against your folds. you want him in you, but with everything that’s going on, you can barely think, let alone talk.

“s-sangie-” you choke out, trying to tell him how bad you need him, but you’re cut off by the whine that claws it’s way up your throat.

“what?” he grunts into your neck, “you want to tell me something?”

you nod, but no words come out. yeosang chuckles darkly into your neck.

“go on then, baby,” his teeth graze against you, threatening to add to the purple bruises that run up and down your skin, “if you’re going to tell me anything, tell me how bad you need me.”

you know it’s an ego thing. of course it is; yeosang was obviously hurt when he saw you flirting with the other man, and now it’s your job to repair that. and you would, if you could hold a thought for more than two seconds. you’d love nothing more than to stroke his ego, make him feel all big and powerful and like he’s the only man in the world.

but you just can’t. every time you open your mouth, you lose your train of thought and all that comes out is a few pants as yeosang tears your mind down to nothing. you cant even focus when he pulls back a little, studying your face with glassy eyes before diving right back into your neck. he doesn’t suck, or bite, or kiss this time. he just nuzzles the sticky skin with his nose, mumbling almost incoherent words against it.

“baby,” he says after a moment or two, voice a little breathier than before, “baby, please tell me me how much you need me. need to hear it.”

his tongue darts out and he begins to lap one of the bite marks, as if trying to soothe it. it only makes your mind race more.

as do the continuous whimpers that you can hear spilling into the air, only this time they’re not from you. they’re from yeosang.

yeosang who is still grinding into you, albeit with sloppier, softer motions than before. who is still pinning you to the wall, only with a more desperate grip, as if you’ll slip away if he lets go. who still has his face pressed against your neck, words slipping from his mouth, but now they beg rather than degrade.

“baby, please,” he whispers, and you feel something wet fall against your neck; a tear, “i need you tell tell me you need me.”

he sounds so pathetic, crying into your neck like that, and it soon sinks in that the tables have turned without you even really realising. the man that had pinned you to the door minutes prior, wanting nothing more than to teach you a lesson, had vanished. he’s been replaced by your baby boy, who was so desperate to hear how much you wanted him. so desperate to know that you loved him as much as he loved you.

you try your hardest to gather your thoughts, just enough for you to be able to scrape together a sentence or so. but with yeosang bucking against you like a dog in heat, its so incredibly hard. add that to the fact that he’s gone back to suckling at your neck like its going to bring him some sort of comfort and there’s no way you were getting a coherent sentence out.

so you lace you fingers into his hair, grateful of how long it had gotten, and tug. he lets out a long whimper, eyes rolling into the back of his head as you tug his far enough back to see his face. you tug again, wordlessly pleading for him to look at you. just once would be enough for him to see how thoroughly mindless he has you already. just once for him to understand that he is all you can think about right now.

[starogeorgina]

Twin flames

Warning: Swearing, age gap, asshole Aemond

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen × Targaryen oc

1.02

You watched as your uncle took in the appearance of your bedchamber, his lilac eyes scanning the room your mother deemed unworthy of a princess. Furniture was plain; curtains were faded; and books filled with stories of tragic lovers were scattered everywhere. He was most likely underwhelmed; most people were. Aegon often compared your bedchamber to the servants. Aemond had no such remark since he had never entered your bedchambers since childhood.

“If I knew in advance, uncle, you’d be helping me sneak back into the keep, I would have tried to spruce the room up slightly for you,” you say jokingly.

Daemon's facial expression remains hard to read until something catches his attention. Frowning, he walks towards the table in the center of the room and picks up the different pieces of fabric. “What happened to your dresses?”

You’re taken aback by the tone of his voice; unlike your mother or grandsire, there wasn’t a hint of judgment or disapproval; Daemon sounded genuinely concerned about why so many outfits had large tares in them. His eyes had a fierce glow to them while he awaited your answer. You cleared your throat. “My mother won’t allow me to repurpose my dresses unless they are ruined. After wearing a dress a few times, I tend to accidentally rip it.”

“Hmm,” he says, tossing the fabric back down, “and what exactly do you do with them?”

“Myself and one of the seamstresses turn them into bedding or clothing to give to the poor.” Sighing, you start to fold the pieces of fabric into squares, placing them neatly onto the table. Keep your head low to hide the embarrassment; you probably sounded spoiled. “I know it isn’t much, but it should be criminal how much material is used for just one of my dresses when there are homeless people freezing during the nights and children running around naked in the streets of Flea Bottom.”

“Yes, the gods can be cruel.”

Your eyes narrow, and Daemon’s mocking tone irritates you until you spot a ghost of a smirk pulling on his lips. He was teasing you. “Perhaps one day the gods will be kind enough to help those who need them most.”

Daemon silently stares at you for a few moments, observing each of your actions as if something exciting could happen at any moment. His gaze slowly moves to the floor for a few seconds, as if he’s lost in thought. Daemon moves to another small table and sits beside it. He sniffs the remaining wine that you had brought earlier in the night and then takes a gulp of it, saying, “So tell me, what Dragon is it you ride?”

“Tyvaros.”

He tilts his head back, an amused look on his face. “Tyvaros is High Valyrian for serpent, is it not?”

“You know it is”, you sit down across from him and smile, “with scales as dark as coal and glowing green eyes. My dragon is basically a smaller version of the Cannibal, my black beauty.”

“I can’t imagine the same girl who gives her clothing to the less fortunate riding a dragon so ferocious.”

You lean across the table, reaching for the cup he just drank out of, and take a sip yourself. “You don’t know me well enough to make such assumptions.”

Grinning, he takes the cup from your hand and refills it before handing it back to you. He chuckles and says, “Dear niece, I think you are right; not to worry, we can always amend that. Now tell me, how often do you sneak out at night?”

—

Having little appetite, you pick at the food on your plate, washing what little you do eat down with wine. The room is silent aside from the sounds of scraping forks and knives until your mother says to you, “I haven’t seen that ring before; where did you get it from?”

You glance down at the delicate ring. It was a gold band with a red circular stone, one of the many gifts your uncle had given you over the past few moons. Daemon gave you books he thought you would enjoy, black and red dresses he assured you were made out of the cheapest fabric, and he even got a black collar decorated with emerald stones for your dragon. A gift your mother and grandsire were most pleased with, they assumed you had chosen the collar paying token to the Hightower family symbol, when in reality it was from a man whom they both despised. Neither of them made the connection between the green and matching Tyvaros eyes. Daemon had told you the ring was sentimental but never explained how so; you just knew he wore a matching one.

“It was a gift from a friend.”

The table is mostly quiet again. Aegon leers over and scrunches his nose up. “It’s hideous.”

“Good thing it’s not you who’s wearing it then, brother,” you say before dipping bread into the stew that was just placed in front of you.

You remain focused on your meal until you feel your hair being brushed behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Aemond stares at you intensely; his eye seems darker than usual as his fingers brush over a thin braid that had been hidden beneath the top layer of your hair.

Aemond seemed mad, but perhaps you were just imagining it.

Nights prior, during the hour of the owl, you had snuck out to meet with your uncle, and you sat in the gardens listening to tales of his daughters, who were currently staying with their grandmother, the queen who never was, Rhaenys Targaryen. It was clear he missed his daughters deeply, along with their mother, Lady Laena. As he spoke, Daemon played with your hair, braiding it as you drew a detailed picture of Caraxes flying in the night sky. Nothing inappropriate had happened between you and your uncle, but the thoughts you had of kissing him made it feel sinful, so you pretended your relationship with Daemon didn’t exist to others.

Aemond quickly pulled his hand away before returning to his meal, and all conversation ceased to exist once again.

—

You walk to your bedchamber with a smile on your face. You had spent the remainder of the afternoon with your sister Helaena, riding your dragons alongside one another. It isn’t until you are inside and begin to remove your riding gear that you notice a presence in your room. “Aemond!” You gasp, hand clasping on your chest, “What are you doing here?”

“Why not? I am your husband after all.”

The coldness in his tone causes you to tighten your grip on your recently removed jacket. You were wrong for ignoring the tingling of dread earlier when he spotted your braid. You clear your throat. “It is unlike you to come visit me; I’m surprised.”

“I regret not doing it sooner, wife.”

The word wife drips like venom from his tongue, and when you finally look at him again, you notice he’s holding your drawings. He scoffs before scrunching them up in his hands. “Tyvaros, Tessarion, Dreamfyre, Sunfyre, Syrax, Meleys, Seasmoke... hmm, you’ve drawn these dragons but not Vhagar.”

“I’ve not drawn the wild dragons either. I intend to draw them all eventually.”

“You’ve drawn that deformed-looking beast before mine!” He snaps, tossing a scrunched-up piece of paper with a drawing of Caraxes at your face, “Vhagar is my dragon, your husband's dragon!”

Tears well up in your eyes as his voice becomes louder and full of rage. You glance at the door. You could scream for the knight guarding your door, but realistically, he wouldn’t do anything to help you. Although you were a princess, he was a prince, and the knights would always defend the son of a king over a king's daughter. As frightened as you were, you would be damned if you let him know that, “If your intention was to frighten me, then you have failed.”

Aemond suddenly storms towards you; gripping your jaw tightly, he says, “Not to fear me is stupid. Foolish girl, not only are you sneaking around with our cunt of an uncle, but you now insult me even further by favoring him and his dragon over my own.”

“It was never meant as an insult; we all know Vhagar is a gift from the gods.”

He rolls his eyes at your weak attempt at softening him up. He glares at you and says, “You’ve made a fool of me.”

“Nothing has ever happened between me and Daemon. I enjoy his company; he cares what I have to say.”

You shake as Aemond lets go of your jaw and pulls his dagger from his belt. Tears roll down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for pain to come, but it never does. Feeling something tickle the tip of your nose, you open your eyes again to see your silver braid dangling like a prize that has been won in front of you. He lets out a dark chuckle, dropping it to the ground. “You’ve never let anyone braid your hair since we were children, not even your handmaidens.”

Your fear turns to anger. How dare he treat you in such a manner? When he is the one who created the toxic dynamic between you. You never wanted to marry Aemond, but you were prepared to perform your duty as a wife and princess, but he refused you each time. deprived you of not only children but also basic respect. “Tell me, brother, do you not feel guilt each time you look at me?” You pull up the sleeve of your dress, revealing your scared arm. “Every time I see this or a reflection of the one on my face, I curse the gods, then beg for their forgiveness for my lack of faith in them, and do you want to know why? It wasn’t them that did this to me.”

“It was an accident!”

“No,” you snort out with a laugh. “No, it wasn’t, not really. Deep down, you wanted to hurt me; you wanted to punish me for not wanting to help you seek revenge against our nephew.”

“Lucerys owes me a debt.”

“Does that mean you owe me one? Lucerys was just a boy defending his brother; you, on the other hand, are a brother who hurt his sister.” You shake your head at him and say, “When you saw the scar on my face, did you not think it was justice?”

Aemond knocks on the chamber door for the knight to open it, ignoring your question. He looks back at you and says, “You will no longer spend time with our uncle.”

Snorting out a laugh, you struggle to compose yourself. A smile spreads across your face. “Or what? You’ll have me locked away? You dishonor me each time you lay with your whores, and not once have I complained. I am not your property and will do as I please.”

“We’ll see.”

[vigilante-3073]

Snooze

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Late night research turns into an early morning cuddle session.

TW: Fluff, pining, flirting.

Dean Winchester sat at the table in the bunker surrounded by piles of books. With a glance at the clock in the corner of his laptop, he realized that Sam had gone to bed almost an hour ago. Dean was exhausted, but hated the idea of leaving Y/N alone to do research by herself.

The case they were working on involved children and those particular cases had always been a difficult for her. Y/N would stay up for days on end if it meant bringing a child back to their parent safely.

She was a ray of sunshine with a heart of gold, a genuine sweetheart who could do no wrong. Dean often found himself wondering why someone so good would choose to be involved with the Winchesters.

Y/N had quickly become the one stable point in the rocky relationship between Sam and Dean. She often played mediator between the brothers and Dean would never be able to thank her enough for that.

Dean's eyes wandered to the clock face of his watch. It was almost 4 o'clock in the morning and Dean sighed. He decided that it was time for the two hunters to drag themselves into bed for a few hours of sleep before hitting the books again.

He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts to Y/N before a soft snore from behind the large pile of books separating them stopped him.

Dean closed his book and set it on the edge of the table before standing from his seat. He rounded the table, a small smile coming to his face when he saw Y/N.

Her arms were crossed on top of her open book, head leaned against her bicep as she slept. Her eyelids fluttered as she dreamt, eyelashes brushing against the apples of her cheeks.

Dean squatted down beside her chair, hand rubbing over her back as he tried to wake her gently. She looked so peaceful, but she would be endlessly sore if he let her continue sleeping like that. Y/N made a soft noise before her bright eyes fluttered open, making Dean's smile widen slightly.

Y/N was absolutely gorgeous and Dean would never admit it, but he had always wondered what they could be together.

Dean knew that he didn't exactly have the best track record with dating and relationships. Hell, she probably thought of him as a friend and would never see him as anything more. Dean had decided a long time ago was better to preserve the relationship as it was than to push for more and be left with nothing.

"Sweetheart, you're drooling on a book that's almost a thousand years old. Let's get you into bed before you do any damage, alright?" He questioned softly.

Y/N sat up in her seat, grimacing as her back cracked from being hunched over, "You alright?" Dean asked, she nodded.

"How long was I out?" Y/N asked softly.

"No clue, but we haven't talked in almost three hours," He said, hand resting on her knee.

She allowed Dean to lead her through the war room and down the hallway towards their bedrooms. Dean opened her door for her, watching her shuffle across the room before falling into her bed fully dressed.

Y/N huffed, "Did you find anything?" She asked, "Not yet, but we both need to get some sleep" Dean said.

Y/N nodded and Dean rose to his feet, "C'mon, time for bed," He said, she stood from her chair.

He shook his head with a smile, making his way over and taking off her shoes for her. She shuffled out of her cardigan, half-heartedly tossing it towards the end of the bed.

Dean grabbed her folded blanket that had been draped over the back of her chair. He spread out the fluffy material on top of her, making sure she was fully covered before turning to leave.

Her hand slipped out from under the blanket, fingers circling around his wrist, "Stay," She said softly.

Dean felt his cheeks flush, they had shared a bed on multiple occasions, but he hadn't expected her to ask.

He liked having her in the same space as he and Sammy when they traveled so he could better protect her in case something happened. But this was different, this was her space and not just a matter of circumstance.

Y/N stared up at him, "Please, stay," She repeated, he nodded.

"Yeah, I'll stay," Dean said.

She let go of his hand, pulling her arm back underneath her blanket. Dean shrugged off his flannel and kicked off his shoes, crawling into the bed beside her.

Y/N turned to face him, tossing the blanket over him before slipping one of her legs between his. Dean wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to himself. She rested her head down on his chest, snuggling closer to him.

Y/N tilted her head up suddenly, looking at him with wide eyes, "I'm sorry, I didn't even ask. Is this okay? I can back off if it makes you uncomfortable," She said softly.

"No, this is great," He assured, thumb rubbing back and forth across the small of her back.

She settled back in against him, resting her head down on his chest with a content sigh. They laid together in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again, "Your heart is beating really fast," Y/N stated.

"That's only because I have the most beautiful woman in the world using me as a pillow," Dean replied.

[benedictscanvas]

filling an empty vase - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x reader

word count: 3.4k (genuinely don't know how that happened)

warnings: language (duh) and some suggestive themes. the word shagging, which is too british not to include i'm afraid

a/n: this was an anonymous request that i'm not going to put here because it kinda ruins the whole plot! but it was such a fabulous request, so thank you anon, for giving me so much space to play. if you're not sure this is your request, you mentioned "Mr I Never Smile Kent" which funnily enough, made me smile!! enjoy sunflowers <3

---

You were such a professional in so many ways, but yet again you found your focus drifting during your meeting with the rest of the coaches. Your eyes find Roy’s face with such ease, lingering on the newly thicker beard he’s been sporting recently, then travelling down to broad shoulders, ones that fill out the door frame so nicely when he folds his arms. You’re so lucky he’s always folding his arms.

Before you can move onto admiring those arms, you see his head turn towards you and you look away before you can be caught. Instead of glancing at his face to see if he’s still looking at you, you decide it’s easier to join the conversation. As the goalkeeping coach, there isn’t always much you can contribute to these discussions, but they’re very insistent on including you.

“The only thing you need to be careful of is their counter-press,” you chime in, “Mind that the boys don’t get complacent in possession or my guy will be a sitting duck out there.”

“Good thinkin, Abe Lincoln. Why don’t we add that to our pre-game talk, coach, make sure someone’s watchin’ Zoreaux’s back at all times?”

“Already writing it down, coach,” Beard replied, gaining a double thumbs up from Ted who then continued talking. Even though you’d hardly been listening, you knew to do enough research beforehand so that you were free to let your mind wander and only speak up with a few key points.

You tune back in when you recognise the gruff tone of the very man you’re trying not to admire again.

“No. Y/N stole my fucking thing. I’ve gone over the rest in training,” he says dryly, and you duck your head to your lap to hide your smirk. Of course the two of you were on the same page about strategy, you always were. Usually he got to say it before you though, “Can we go now?”

“Unless anyone’s got anythin’ they want to add?” Ted looks around at everyone’s blank and frankly, very tired faces, “Not even somethin’ personal? Deep dark secret? Scandalous love affair, that kinda thing? Higgins, you look like there’s somethin’ right on the tip of that tongue.”

“I’m leaving,” Roy announced, walking into his office and shutting the door, even going so far as to shut the blinds on both windows before he presumably sat at his desk. You sighed and got up from your perch on the desk to take a step towards the dressing room.

“Afraid I’ve got some work to get done before I go home too,” you say, trying to be at least slightly nicer than Roy about it, “We can get personal tomorrow, alright Ted?”

He agrees with a happy grin on his face and you say goodbye to him, Beard and Trent collectively with a salute before turning on your heel and waving a goodbye to any of the team still around as you leave. You don’t go far. Unable to help yourself, you knock on Roy’s office door from the other side and shuffle your weight between your feet as you wait.

“Fuck off,” comes the greeting, so you open the door and slip inside.

“Even if it’s me?”

His head turns at the sound of your voice and suddenly his features look a special kind of soft, even in the harsh overhead lighting. He swivels his chair fully to face you, but makes no other move.

“Especially if it’s you,” he confirms, folding his arms again like he knew the effect he had on you, “You’re a fucking pervert.”

You gasp, clutching at the door handle behind you in a show of shock.

“I’m a what?”

“You heard me. Staring at me like you do in meetings wasn’t in your job description when we hired you, last I checked.”

“Last I checked, shagging your goalkeeping coach wasn’t in your job description, but you made pretty quick work of it.”

That was enough to get him moving. He’s quick out of his chair for a man with a bad knee, quick to crowd you against the wall just next to the door. Someone would have to really peer in to see the two of you, something he’d probably calculated even though your mind was already blank at the new proximity. 

“You’re right,” he says, voice sinfully low, hands either side of your hips but not touching you yet, “And I was staring at you the whole fucking meeting anyway, so I’m a pervert and a hypocrite.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can keep on with you if you’re both. One of them, maybe I can look past it, but both?”

Finally, one hand comes off the wall to stroke a line down your side with the backs of his knuckles. You try not to give him the satisfaction of shivering, but fail miserably.

“Think you can brave it?” he murmurs, that same hand brushing along your cheekbone, still all rough knuckles instead of his palm, “I’ll take you to Big Tesco later.”

Your whole face brightens despite the heavy tension that had settled like a mist in the room. You reach up to gently hold his wrist, stroking a thumb back and forth over the pulse that jumped there.

“Shit, you know the way to a girl’s heart, Kent,” you whisper, syrupy and cloying, “I take it all back. We can go as long as you like.”

The innuendo drew the growl from him that you’d been hoping for. The hand at your cheek was quick to turn until he was cupping your face and pulling you into him, kissing you deep and slow and longingly. Each kiss with him was better than the last. Yes, it had started hot and desperate after a month of unbearable electricity between you, a rushed encounter at a hotel after a particularly adrenaline-filled away game. 

Ever since, Roy had slowed things down. Not in the way you’d perhaps expected - he was still hot and heavy whenever the two of you got the chance, but he was taking his time with you. Teasing and learning. Nobody had ever treated you like this before, like you were something to be revered. Worshipped.

It was the same now, as he anchored himself with a hand on your back, pulling you further in, kissing you with genuine hunger.

“Roy? Can I come and get my stuff.”

Trent. It was always Trent. You liked the man so much, spent a lot of time with him, in fact, but if he interrupted you and Roy one more time, you had half a mind to hide his manuscript or something.

Roy did his special silent groan that he did whenever he couldn’t groan aloud, where he glared at the ceiling as he broke away from you and then clenched his fists in front of him. It was adorable, not that you would tell him that.

“All good,” you whisper, despite it definitely not being all good. It was entirely a joint decision not to tell the team about the two of you yet, but sometimes you wished you could announce it to the whole fucking world if it would get you some alone time.

You squeeze his hand and slip away to the adjoining door between his and Ted’s office. You hear Roy grunt for Ted to come in behind you, but you squeeze through into the other room before you hear any more of their inevitably one-sided conversation. Ted turns to you brightly as you enter.

“Decided you wanted to get personal sooner, Y/N?” he grins, and you can tell he isn’t really serious.

“Just forgot my keys,” you said sheepishly, retrieving them from the desk where you’d left them completely on purpose. It was always good to have a back-up plan and Roy wasn’t the only quick thinker between you, “See you tomorrow, Coach.”

“Can’t wait, coach!”

As you exit for real this time, glancing into Roy’s office as you pass, you take out your phone to shoot him a text. You’re saved under an unassuming name in his phone, so even if Trent sees it, he’ll be none the wiser.

We’re still on for tonight, right? The way I navigate a Big Tesco will blow your mind x

You press send with a smile to yourself, continuing on towards your office to pack up for the evening. Your phone buzzes before you even get there.

You blow my mind every fucking day. See you soon x

God, you could clutch your phone to your chest and squeal in the corridor, but instead, you speed up your walk to get home as quickly as possible. There was no harm in getting all dressed up to go to the supermarket when you were going with an insanely fit professional footballer, you reasoned.

---

Big Tesco. The place dreams are made of, or at least it was when you were younger and felt like you could get lost in the aisles and never return. Nowadays, it was likely nostalgia that kept you coming back, but it still felt like your first Big Tesco trip with Roy was a pretty big deal.

Mainly you needed snacks for movie night, but Roy was happy to indulge you and drive twenty minutes away for this if that’s what you wanted.

“If we’re doing Julia Roberts, we have to do Pretty Woman, obviously.”

“And Erin fucking Brockovich,” Roy agreed, “But if we do Sandra Bullock, we get the modern day masterpiece that is Miss Congeniality.”

“Oh, I still need to see that one!”

Roy stops, Pringles tube hovering above the trolley. He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time and he doesn’t like what he sees.

“Right, we’re doing Bullock then, if I have to fucking culture you as well as buy your snacks.”

“We’re splitting the snacks-”

“The fuck we are,” he cut in, already contradicting himself, “I was fucking joking, please can we not get into another snack debate. You bought them last time.”

“Fine. And I’m happy with Sandy, too, so you win twice, buddy,” you grin at him, not expecting him to grin back but ecstatic when he does. You have half a mind to press him up against the Doritos and finish what you’d started earlier, but you have plenty of time for that in appropriate places later.

You had all night, in fact, post-Sandra Bullock marathon. The thought brings a particular movie to mind.

“As long as we throw Two Weeks Notice in there too.”

“Hugh Grant? No.”

“Oh come on, he’s a national treasure,” you argue, sliding your arm through his as the two of you continue your journey through the aisles.

“He’s a fucking idiot, is what he is,” Roy bites back, as he picks up the chocolate he knows you love, “I’ll allow The Proposal.”

“You know what, that’s a better choice anyway. We have a deal if we can make a stop in the homeware section after this?” you say hopefully, excited when he sighs and nods. You kiss his shoulder as you continue walking, “We’re so fucking good at this compromising shit!”

You lean away from him enough to hold your hand up for a high five. He indulges you reluctantly with a light slap from his own.

“We are. It’s cause I’m so fucking nice.”

“To me,” you add, staring up at him as he slows the trolley to a stop beside the biscuits. He takes your face in his hands after a moment.

“To you, yeah,” he agrees, voice all soft like it had been earlier. You’re not going to kiss him senseless in a supermarket, the two of you had some shame and a lot of love for privacy, but it was nice to indulge in something like this, a sweet moment shared without fear of anyone seeing the two of you. You turn your head to kiss his palm, “You’ve sent me all fucking soft.”

“You love it.”

“Love you, more like,” he says, for the first fucking time, in a Big Tesco. You’d found out you were getting a party bus for your 10th birthday here too, so it was a location for big occasions. You kiss his palm; once, twice, three times.

“You have to say the I or it doesn’t mean anything,” you tease, but you’re beaming up at him as he strokes the skin underneath your eyes and you almost let them flutter shut.

“Who fucking told you that? Sounds like shit Jamie would say.”

“Jan Maas.”

“Fucking prick,” he says, then a moment later, “I love you, then, if you fucking insist.”

“I do insist,” you giggle, leaning forward until your face is in his chest so you can safely say: “I love you too.”

Its a little muffled, but thankfully he doesn’t ask you to repeat it again like you think he will. He just wraps his arms around your shoulders and keeps you close to him for a long while.

“Roy? Hey boyo!!”

You freeze in place, face still hidden. If anything, Roy’s arms tighten around you rather than letting go as he turns to see Colin waving at him, alongside Sam, Isaac, Jamie and the aforementioned Jan Maas. They all pile over towards him and you know its a matter of time before they realise its you. Jamie’s already bounding over as if he’s won the lottery.

“Roy’s got a girl! A real woman, like!” Jamie exclaims as he reaches them and you decide to get this over with sooner than later, lifting your head to stare at him wearily. He frowns, “Oh. Y/N, hiya.”

Of course he isn’t connecting any dots. He isn’t quite the connecting type, however much you love him to little pieces. Sam is staring at you a lot more knowingly, Isaac stuck with his mouth open. They’ve all caught on a little quicker than Jamie.

“The two of you together,” Jan muses, “I do not believe this is a pairing made to last.”

“Oi, Jan Maas,” Isaac pipes up, especially as Roy’s already stepped forward to threaten him, “Not cool.”

“I am just telling you the truth. You are both a little grumpy, you will not have the needed balance.”

“We’re balancing perfectly fucking well, thank you,” Roy says, and you can hear that he’s gritting his teeth, “As a team. Of coaches. Because that’s what we fucking are.”

Oh, he was going to play the ‘it wasn’t what it looked like’ card? You weren’t expecting it, but you’d happily back him up if he wanted you to.

“You are telling me that was a friend hug?” Sam asks, voice full of disbelief. You look up at Roy to see what he’ll say to that, but he’s already looking down at you with an untraceable look on his face. When he finally looks back at the boys, he takes your hand in his.

“No. It was a fucking boyfriend-girlfriend hug, alright? Any of you tell anyone before we do and I’ll feed you to a fucking monitor lizard.”

You’d watched a documentary about them last night that had likely led to that threat. Jamie’s snickering but tries to sober up when Roy immediately turns to him. He holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry mate, I am, I’ve jus’ never heard a grown man say ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ before,” he says, back to giggling by the end of his sentence and Jan Maas is quick to dissolve into full blown laughter. You bring a hand up to your mouth to hide your own amusement, lest Roy feel betrayed by it.

“Right, fuck off and leave us alone then. We’re on a tight fucking movie night schedule and I won’t have you twats throwing us off.”

“Hey! That’s why we’re here! If we’re all doing movie night, why don’t you join us?” Sam asks, and you can see he’s teasing even if Roy can’t tell. Still, you take it as an opportunity to stake your claim as you wrap an arm around Roy’s bicep and cling to him.

“Look, you lot hog this man all day every day. I’m taking him home and we’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

It was very Roy of you, just with the addition of a wink at the end that told the boys you were half-joking. Jamie seemed almost impressed, while Sam was trying not to laugh at you. That man never took you seriously, and you loved it.

“We’ll leave you to it then,” Isaac decided, dragging Jamie backwards a little by the collar when he opened his mouth to tease Roy one final time, “Enjoy your night, yeah? See you tomorrow.”

Roy grunted his goodbye, but you waved back at them when they waved, mostly at you. Jamie mouthed something at Roy but, luckily for you both, Roy couldn’t work it out.

“Pricks,” he mutters once they’re far away enough not to hear him and you let out a little snort.

“They were very nice about that, you know? I was expecting a lot worse,” you said, pleasantly surprised at the lack of proper teasing. You knew there was likely more to come once they’d had a while to process it, but still. There was a certain weight lifted knowing that someone had finally been told.

“Do people not say boyfriend-girlfriend anymore?” he asks abruptly, looking down at you from where you’re still clinging to him. You grin at up at him.

“We should bring it back. I love boyfriend-girlfriend. I think that’s how we should introduce ourselves to people from now on.”

He rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice, but tugged you into a quick, public appropriate kiss nonetheless.

“Let’s get you some fucking hobnobs and then we can go and look at fancy glassware, yeah?,” he announces, shaking his head with such obvious fondness when you cheer and turn to the biscuits. He stays close, a hand hovering near your back, and you’re a little worried movie night might be forgotten when you get home given how handsy the two of you have been all day. You resume your shopping tucked into his side, and only bump into the boys twice more on your trip around the wonders of Big Tesco.

Later, when you’re eventually curled into Roy’s side during a movie night that started way later than intended, your phone buzzes a few too many times in a row to ignore. You glance at Roy quizzically as you grab it, seeing a bunch of texts coming in from Sam.

Couldn’t resist. Don’t let Roy hate me. I’ve deleted them on my phone now, so they’re just yours. Lunch tomorrow?

Roy grumbled a little beside you as he read over your shoulder, but really he should have gotten used to your occasional lunch plans with Sam by now, even if he liked having you all to himself for at least one hour during the day. You settle into him even more as you scroll through a bunch of photos Sam’s attached with wide eyes.

You staring up at Roy. Roy kissing you. The grins on both your faces when you part. Then one that has you reeling, where you’re facing the biscuits with your hands on your hips and Roy is looking at you. Enthralled. You’re not even fucking doing anything.

“That little shit,” Roy breathes, squeezing your thigh where his hand was already resting.

“I love them,” you say instead of responding, tilting your head back to look at Roy, “Our first proper photos together.”

“They look like a fucking pap took them,” he complains, but he's still studying them and you can tell he likes them really.

“Look how happy we look," you’re stuck on how he looks at you when you’re not even looking at him. When there’s nothing to be gained from it. You glance at the new vase sitting on your coffee table, with fresh flowers Roy had insisted on because 'if we're getting a fucking vase we have to fucking fill it'. Here he was, filling your life with so many little pieces of joy.

“Well we are fucking happy, aren’t we?”

There's a little bit of vulnerability in his question, like he needs confirmation. You lock your phone and toss it to the side, knowing you can reply to Sam in a bit. For now, you pause the movie and clamber to straddle Roy’s lap, seeing that look on his face again as he stares up at you. It only spurs you on.

“We’re very fucking happy, Roy.”

He grins, which is rare, but then he kisses you and that’s not rare at all.

(roy makes a mental note to thank sam for the pictures tomorrow, even if he tells him to do extra laps in the same sentence to maintain the balance)

[poppy-metal]

aaaa poppy going crazy bc stepsibling jordan who's older than u and just thinks you're so cute!! and is unbearably mean to you becuase of it teases you for being so sweet and oblivious :( makes fun of your girly little room and your pretty little outfits :( teases you for walking around in your tiny little sleep shorts nd how nervous u get when its just the two of u home alone. im afraid i cant take it

-🦸‍♀️

naur bc they intimidate you so bad. you dont know if they genuinely hate you, because they're always picking on you. you can't help but want their attention, even when its the two of you bickering it makes you buzz inside because their focus is on you. and oh, you can't help the way your heart pulses whenever those dark eyes land on you - zero in on you.

and we're you're all alone in that big house... a part of you is excited, like buzzing. you subconsciously dress cuter, because you've seen the kind of people jordan hooks up with, know they like feminine women and dumb himbos - you're not a himbo, but well, you put on your pinkest socks - your most delicate pjs. little bows in your hair. loiter outside your room in the kitchen, living room, just for the hopes of running into them.

when you do, its when they come back from the gym, nylon shorts hung low on their hips, tank dotted with sweat. you're sitting at the kitchen counter top, spoon dipped into your strawberry yogurt and you just kinda.... take them in. they yank open the fridge and guzzle half a water bottle down in one sip, and its almost pornogrpahic the way some spare water drips down their throat.

in masc!form you can see the way the tank clings to their chest and abs. the corded muscle in their arms. the tattoos running down their skin - gotten to piss off their dad after marrying your mother - and you're just a girl.

"parents are out." you say softly, looking down at your yogurt.

their eyes fix on you and that flush you always get around them starts in your cheeks, warms down to your belly. they finish off the water bottle, crush it in their hands. they approach the island, rest their forearms on it - jesus they're so big - your eyes dart to the silver chain that dangles around their neck. half silver chain, half pearls.

"you sound excited about that," they note. "you plannin an epic rager I should know about?"

you shake your head, giggling a little. "i dont think i even know enough people to throw a party. plus, i dont wanna anger your father - hes scary."

jordan rolls their eyes. "hes a pussy."

"jordan!"

"do what you want - he wont give a shit. you're the good girl." the way jordan says it, with a hint of resentment, deflates you a little.

"I'm not that good."

one dark brow raises. "oh yeah?"

you figet. push your spoon around the cup. "well, i haven't done bad things, like-"

"like me?"

"no!" quick to reassure. "i mean in general things that are viewed as bad. partying, drugs, alcohol, except for that one time i accidently took a sip of my moms spiked eggnog during christmas-"

jordans lips fold together like they're holding in a smile, but a little dimple peeks out. these little things you dont notice, too flustered with your own overexplaining.

"- but besides that one time, i haven't done anything but. but im not good - i mean, what is good anyway? cause a person can do all these good things and then still be a bad person with the way they think, you know."

teeth dig into jordans bottom lip as they appraise you. its clear you're embarrassed at having spoke so much. you dont realize how fucking cute you are, and that makes them want to mess with you. a little. alot. they rest their hip on the island, looking down at you.

"you have bad thoughts, baby sis?"

there goes that face flush again. "well, not evil ones."

lips quirk to the side, they tilt their head at you like you're an interesting puppy playing a trick for them. "uh huh." they hum. "what kind are they then? spiteful? bitchy? or..." they shift then, voice changing half way through their talking. "are you a little fuckin' perv up there?"

if they could frame your face they would. squirming in place. shifting in your seat, eyes darting away quickly. basically all the confirmation they need.

unbidden, the thought of you in your bed, hand between your legs, rubbing that little clit furiously to fantasies running through your head hits them and they have to swallow. fuck. they imagine your skin flushing, grinding your hips because you cant hit the spot right, frustrated. would you give upn teary eyed? or would you roll over and hump your pillow. what kind of sounds do you make? quiet and soft? throaty? they think there'd be alot of whimpers. their eyes trace down your skimpy sleep shirt. god, yeah. they could make you whimper. it'd be so fucking easy. you'd let them too. the way you're constantly looking at them with those big eyes of yours, vying for their attention. makes them want to squash you under their thumb. and make you cum.

"n-no!" you try to defend. "i just meant I'm not a goody two shoes!"

"sure you're not." they totally think that's bullshit. "wanna prove it?"

you blink at them. "prove it?"

their tongue darts out, licks their bottom lip. they feel their cunt throb in their boxers. they're kinda no better than a dog. panting at the fucking bit to get you alone all the sudden. they've thought about it before, fucking obviously. you dont get a hot new baby sister like you and not imagine fucking her. this is the first time they've considered doing something about it though.

"come on." they push off from the counter, making sure their bare shoulder brushes yours as they pass. they feel you shiver, and smirk. "lets go to my room."

they don't look back to see if you'll follow. they know you will.

[nrdmssgs]

Oh don't think you should worry about not using perfect German. Fanfics are for fun, seeing German in it is more like a bonus so i think it's fine as long as we can enjoy them! But thanks for the disclaimer :) i am so ready for that drabble btw 🔥 also as i promised a few days ago... May i make a fluff request? Insecure f chubby reader with your version of König. The kinda awkward, sweet, timid guy trying to comfort her. Add your own twist, i trust you with this! Pls ignore if this isn't ok. Thanks :D

Masterlist Comforting series: Soap comforting reader Price comforting reader

Hurt/comfort, fluff

Pairing: König x reader

Summary: Your old friend is happy to spend a free day with you. But one little memory haunts you.

TW: Mentions of bullying, mentions of rejection of ones body image.

The short trill of a smartphone is muffled by your jeans and t-shirt lying on top of it. You keep staring at your reflection in a fitting room mirror. Distant voices, shop ambient music, echoes of steps - you don't hear anything, but your rushing pulse. 

Because right now you are a teenager again. It's first day of school, and you are happy, for the first time genuinely happy to be back. You've grown so much taller this summer, you've got a bit of a suntan and all those incredible new clothes! You just can't wait to meet your classmates as this new beautiful girl, they have never met before! You find familiar faces in the crowd in front of the school, make your way to them and loudly (unusually loudly, but this is the new you, who will never be shy again) say hello. First gaze falls on you, then a second, a third... and then they all turn in your direction. Something inside you shudders and shrinks into a helpless, desperate lump. They all grew up too and overtook you again. You look like a funny chubby baby again compared to them... What about their outfits? You thought you'd only wear something like that at the end of college.

"Wow, look who is adulting here, is that an above knee skirt on you?" You don't like the fake affectionate tone your classmate uses to address you. “But your mother didn’t tell you that you need to grow up, not grow wide for such clothes, sweetheart?”

How many years ago it was? Ten or fifteen already? And it still hurts. You look at your puffy thighs. “Shapeless!” - screams an angry voice in your head. Your gaze lifts to the curves of your belly and waist. “Vulgar! Too much!”. You raise your arms and look at the shoulder muscles stretching limply down. The dress you are trying on right now in a fitting room is so pretty, you are ashamed, you discredit it with your body. It is made not for you, you should have known better than trying on something so beautiful, light and airy. This fabric should flow easily over the body, and not wrap around every fold. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the plaintive squeak of your smartphone. You take it out from under your clothes and open a chat. “Are you ok? Do you need anything? I can bring you water or some other clothes in the fitting room.” (received 15 minutes ago) “Ah, sorry, it sounded like I'm pressing you. Take your time! Just please let me know, you are ok out there. I'm worrying.” (received 1 minute ago)

You frantically type in an answer, change back into your clothes and rush out of the fitting room. König stands before a pile of dark t-shirts and lazily picks them up one by one. “Oh no, you are not buying one of those here! I could get you a dozen on amazon for a price of one here!” You put on a jolly mask approaching him. “But those are fun! They have little cat footprints on the sides, look!” You start pulling him away from Ts, and he adds with a small smile, “I can always turn it inside out and no one but me will know..."

It's only when you two exit the shop, he understands it. “Wait, and what about that dress?” 

“What's about it?” you take your jacket from his hands and despite hot weather take it on.

“You've wanted it so much, you've been waiting for the day, you could finally get it. Why didn't you buy it?” He desperately tries to catch your hand, to make you go a bit slower and finally face him.

“Na-a-ah, it turned out not that great, so I changed my mind. Forget it, it's no big deal.” You play it cool, because you don't want to let him down. He is in the military, he goes through hell on every deployment, so not letting your insignificant problems affect his mood is the least you could do. 

“But, but you… you…” 

You don't let König go on with his thought and change the subject. For the rest part of the day the two of you wander through the quiet, sleepy from the summer heat streets. Walking in a buttoned jacket in the scorching sun is not easy, but you stubbornly pull him on and on whenever he offers to take it from you. In the evening, you find yourself in the park. He somehow manages to get you on the bench.

"Can I ask you something? Are you feeling well?" His gaze is full of anxiety and concern.

"Of course! I had a great day with a friend, we went out, we had a great time! And I saved him a lot of money by not letting him buy those T-shirts!" You chuckle, but then you see his eyes. "Why are you asking? Is something wrong?" “Well, yes… I'm worried about you. Something happened in that shop, and it eats me from the inside. You barely stopped today to breathe and rest, you refused to have lunch, you torture yourself with this jacket all day, although I can see how hard it is for you. Even now, you're sitting on the very edge of the bench, like there's not enough room for the two of us. You were so happy in the morning, but then... as if someone put out the joyful light inside you. And if it really happened there, in the store - I would like to know what happened. Whoever it was - whatever nonsense they've told you - I want to fix this. Because I hate seeing you silently suffer like that.” As he speaks, blush appears on his face. It's clear, he overthinks again, if his thoughts sound acceptable, being spoken out loud. König is always like that: a kind soul too worried to sound weird. If only he knew, how much comfort he brought you.

“I'm sorry, I'll be ok soon. Promise. It happens sometimes. I know, it's high time I learn to accept myself, it's just… I sometimes understand, how much work lays ahead to be able to finally… love all this.” You lightly squeeze your sides and smile bitterly.

“You mean, nobody said or done anything in the shop? It all happened inside?” His worrying gaze meet yours. And when you nod and apologize for your behavior, he calls you by your name and takes your hand. “Please don't beat up yourself for not feeling well about yourself. I want to show you something, may I? But you'll need to sit on the bench properly. It won't work otherwise.”

You nod and slowly lean back, till you sit fully on the bench. “I know, how it feels, when a small thought ruins everything. One moment you think, how some guy told many years ago, you'll never be a sniper and the next few days you show your worst results on firing range. Or you accidentally drop a mug, it falls and breaks. And all night after that, your parents chastising you for being so clumsy in an endless nightmare. But I have learned a trick, that helps.” 

Without letting go of your hand, he clamps in the fingers of the other hand a crimson bead of the bracelet wrapped around his wrist. “I name every bead and try to remember the names, when I feel down. This one for example is called ‘other people's opinions do not determine how well I shoot’. And this is ‘it was just a mug or plate or a vase, I can always buy a better one’.” 

You listen to him and smile. A trail of warm words, positive affirmations, he always carries with him: that's really wholesome. He lifts your hand and pulls the bracelet from his wrist to yours. "I want you to try. Give one of them a name."

You are thinking. Something that could calm you now... But what could be? König patiently waits, and you feel uneasy from the long pause.

"Let's try together, okay?" He touches one bead, and you feel the warmth of his fingers at your very wrist. "I'd call this 'I'm Enough. I don't have to look different to be loved’. Sounds good?” You look down on the bead, on sunshine playing on its smooth surface, and a smile blooms on your face. König notices that and grins widely. “Ok, now it's your turn!”

You take a next bead, look at it. There is a little scratch on it, which reminds if something, that left a little scratch on your soul a while ago. “This one will be ‘It's ok, it doesn't look on me exactly like on a model from advertising. I am still beautiful just as her’.” “You are more beautiful,” adds König in a soft voice. Then he makes you name another one, then another and another. Some of them are funny, others are deeply personal, there are some reassuring, but still sad. In an hour you reach the last one - big bead on the knot of bracelet. It has many scratches, so first you ask him, what was his name for it. “I'll tell you one day. Just… not now, ok?” He looks down for a moment, but then the smile returns to his face and König adds, “How about we go have dinner? I was too shy to admit it, but i'm starving.”

You feel that hate and fear let go of your mind. And with that comes hunger. “Me too,” you smile, looking at the bracelet on your wrist.

***

A few months later from that day, König is almost finally done with the last step of a big mission, he was deployed for. It was early morning, he and his squadmates headed on the last operation. König leaned back in his seat, looking somewhere up. His fingers involuntarily clutched at the center bead of the bracelet: the same as his old one, but a little darker. You gave him this one. König tried very hard to take good care of your gift, but now his tactical gloves scratched a large bead. His lips, hidden behind a veil, silently repeated the same phrase.

“Ich werde unversehrt zu ihr zurückkehren und den Mut aufbringen, sie um ein Date zu fragen.”

“Ich werde unversehrt zu ihr zurückkehren und den Mut aufbringen, sie um ein Date zu fragen.”

“Ich werde unversehrt zu ihr zurückkehren und den Mut aufbringen, sie um ein Date zu fragen.”*

*Ich werde unversehrt zu ihr zurückkehren und den Mut aufbringen, sie um ein Date zu fragen. - I will return to her unharmed and have the courage to ask her out.