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osarina · 6 months

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ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.

(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!

You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking.

Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—three years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.

“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side.

“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”

The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.

“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”

“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”

“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”

You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad three years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics.

“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction.

Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk.

“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”

Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately.

“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.

“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I’ve hardly been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”

“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”

“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?”

“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”

He’s telling the truth.

Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris Wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.

“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you.

“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”

“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”

A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk.

You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there.

“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”

Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is.

“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”

You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”

Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”

“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’

“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”

Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge.

Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt.

You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple.

He smiles.

Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route.

“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants.

As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.

You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.

It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.

Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.

He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.

Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is.

This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-

You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.

You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to.

God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.

“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”

Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest.

He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.

The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.

“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.”

He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him.

Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.

“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”

You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.

It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.

You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs.

He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent.

God, he’s gorgeous.

You hate him.

You’ve missed him.

You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.

“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.

You don’t deny him. You never can.

You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.

Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.

You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs.

Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips.

“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.

“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.”

You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago.

“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective.

“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?”

You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-

“None.”

“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”

“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”

His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.

“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”

This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.

“No?” he questions.

A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him.

“No.”

His smile sharpens.

“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”

True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.

“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”

“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.

He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace.

His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.

“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”

Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.

Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time.

“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying.

Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.

Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch.

“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”

You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”

He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist.

Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.

You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.

This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs.

It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.

You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did.

Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work.

What did you do?

You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk.

If anyone finds out about this-

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.

He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.

After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.

“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek.

You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes.

“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”

“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”

“Stop.”

“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for Christmas because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”

The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything.

Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.

“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”

“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”

“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”

“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t.

“I know,” he murmurs.

You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.

Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly.

“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”

His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”

“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”

The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses.

“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

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allbark-no-bite · 5 months

Text

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction.

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x y/n #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson smut #challengers imagine #challengers x reader

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mostly-imagines · 3 months

Note

Well, I guess that I'm going to be that person so, Jay and threesomes — delicious idea actually;

But I don't think that he would dive into the idea of sharing you with other people, especially if you two are a thing (or not, it depends on how he feels about you), like, I've seen in another ask that I unfortunately can't remember the name but it said that if you dated Roy Harper (aka Arsenal) he would share you with Jay, but if it was the opposite, our pretty vigilante wouldn't allow it.

It's clear that it's not that he doesn't trust you, more like... Uhhh? Don't trust others or the insecurity of himself? You get the idea.

Would like to elaborate more, luv?

implied NSFW content below

okay i think there’s 2 ways this could go

1 ) you know how there's a bunch of fics of jason & roy conspiring to have a threesome w reader? every single time i read one (as hot as i do find it) i think about the alternate way that conversation could go

so like you're jason's gf & roy thinks you're hot and decides to get bold bc surely jason will agree?? what’s a girl between friends, right?

he's hung out w you guys/at your apartment lots of times so he's seen you two being touchy with each other plenty.

roy shows up one night to hang and you're wearing one of jay's shirts and as far as roy can tell, no pants because his shirt is so goddamn big on you, there's no point.

"stop looking at her like that," jason's gruff voice cuts through roy's thoughts as they sit on the couch, watching you move about the kitchen.

roy looks over at jason, who doesn't return the eye contact. "i'm not looking at her like anything." he returns his gaze to you, watching your hips. “she’s pretty.”

"i know.” jason says shortly.

jason, knowing roy pretty fucking well at this point, can tell exactly where he’s going with this. he’s been extra flirty with you lately, like he’s trying to butter you up. even going as far as putting a hand on your back or against one of your thighs.

but he’s being more lenient with roy than he would be with someone else thinking about you like that. jason can live with the flirting, that’s just how roy is. the touching gets to him a little though. and the staring might kill him. might kill either one of them, actually.

roy leans back on the couch, looking back to jason, "do you remember that girl in newhaven that wanted to go home with us?"

jason turns his head to look at him, gaze narrowing in dangerously on becoming a glare.

roy shrugs, "i'm just saying. at least you like this girl. makes things easier, doesn't it? plus she's sweet, isn't she?"

jason makes a low hum of a noise that's almost a grunt. "careful."

roy sits up again, fully turning to face him, "jay, come on, i'm just thinking—"

“i know what you're thinking. drop it.”

it takes a special kind of stupid person to argue with jason when he gets serious and resolute like this and roy is not that person so he shuts up and cools it on the flirting. the sudden change in his behavior is harsh enough that you have to ask jason about it later, who, depending on how much he's still simmering about it later, may or may not tell you about what happened there.

or 2 ) roy has the ability to read a fucking room and decides its better for him to keep this idea to himself

in this scenario i see it more as something that roy cannot stop thinking about and he’s doing absolutely everything in his power to prevent himself from getting his neck snapped. he and jason are really good friends but roy’s seen first hand how jason does not play about you so he’s not going to be running any risks.

so lately he won’t look at you unless you speak to him, and then it’s only fleeting, and he’s a lot more careful about when he enters a room he knows you’re both in. he gets real stiff whenever you enter a room and has a nervousness about him that’s uncharacteristic.

but jason’s not stupid and neither are you, so you’ve both noticed a shift in the air to say the least. you’ve been unable to attribute a cause to the newfound shift in energy, though your boyfriend hasn’t had the same trouble identifying the issue.

so jason’s a little annoyed, yeah. but he can’t be that pissed because he gets it. he knows you’re an absolute killer, he assumes every guy that sees you wants you. and that’s fine, whatever. the problem starts up when it’s his best friend who pretty regularly sees you in less-than-modest clothing. jason can’t help that he gets a little possessive then.

jason doesn't necessarily know that the thing taking up roy's mind is a threesome and not just the two of you, but it honestly wouldn't make a difference anyways. it doesn't really have anything to do with whether or not he thinks roy has romantic or just sexual feelings for you, though he's pretty certain they are just sexual.

there's something in the back of his head that tells him that no one has any business seeing you the way he gets to. sex is something so personal for him, for both of you, and he honestly can't even consider the idea of anyone being involved in that other than you and him.

you’ve left the room for a minute one night and there’s an unusual tension that lingers in the air between them. both jason and roy have clocked the shift in demeanor on the others part by now and the resulting silence is devastating. for roy, that is. jason just sits with it.

“you’re not going to do anything,” jason speaks up, not taking his eyes off the drink in his hand. “right?”

the question takes roy off guard and immediately has his heart jumping in his chest. it’s instinct to lie and say ‘no, i don’t want to fuck your girlfriend, what are you talking about?’ but he decides better against it.

he shakes his head, gaze on the rug, “no, no. of course not.”

“good,” jason nods solemnly before adding, “i’d break your nose.”

“i know," roy says simply.

you'd spent longer in the other room than you needed to, hoping something would be said and resolved about whatever was going on with them. clearly at least the former had gone down because when you come back in, there's a slightly different air to the room than the one you had left. more nervous on roy's part, more sure on jason's.

you give jason a questioning look when you sit back down and he just shakes his head cooly and wraps an arm around your shoulder. you trust him well enough to believe that whatever was said was what needed to be said and it's taken care of now.

and it was—the rest of the night was easier as it went on and after a couple of somewhat strange silent exchanges between the two men, roy even started looking at you again. and maybe jason gave you a few kisses with a bit more intensity and held you a little closer than he might have otherwise, but that’s nobody else’s business but his.

#jason todd thoughts™#jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd imagine #jason todd thoughts #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #roy harper x reader

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aduh0308 · 19 days

Text

see if i can help~? [choi yeonjun]

summary: you were never afraid to talk about anything personal with yeonjun, which was why it wasn't a big deal when you told him you've been having trouble pleasuring yourself lately... it just doesn't feel as good anymore. what you weren't expecting, however, was him offering to help, saying he can make you feel as good as you want to... and why would you say no? genre: b2l, smut (p with like a lil plot), non-idol au warnings: dom!yeonjun x sub!fem!virgin!reader, soft!dom and slight hard!dom yj, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, vaginal penetration, dacryphilia, slight dumbification, unprotected sex, creampie + breeding kink, bulge kink, slight praise kink, hand holding, alcohol consumption, reader hasnt shaved, reference to reader getting off to the thought of him previously, calls her doll and baby, edging, nipple play for a sec, handjob, slight sub!yeonjun, hes a crybaby lol, semi-public sexy time scene, she calls him 'pretty' and 'pretty boy' and 'good boy' word count: 6.3k 🎧 — gentleman (gallant) + jenny (studio killers) + all mine (plaza) + so high school (taylor swift) taglist: @agustdiv1ne @beom-pyu @yxnjvnnie @junsmintchoco @liverspaghett @sayitdido @fairyofshampgyu @tyungelic an: happy bday yj~~ is this the beginning of adas comeback? who knows 🤭 (this is for all y'all waiting for this since july 2023, i sincerely apologize) + thank you so much to @chyuuiung for being such a sweetheart and proofreading for me ❤️

Your phone rings and you sigh at the obnoxious song your best friend had replaced the default for months ago. You still haven't changed it, but you're not completely sure why. You obviously don't love the song, but you do love your best friend, and you guess it's just because it reminds you of him that you keep it.

And... it's him calling now. You pick up your phone in your palm, swipe the 'accept' button, and hold it up to your ear.

"YN. GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!!!"

You flinch, holding the phone at arms length. Ears ringing, you yell into the speaker, "STOP YELLING JJUN!!"

"YOU'RE YELLING TOO, IDIOT!" You can hear him even from this distance.

"I'LL STOP IF YOU STOP."

"Fine. Truce accepted." Yeonjun sighs into the receiver, pausing for a moment. You're just about to ask why he's calling when he speaks again, like he spaced out for a second and then brought it back. "You still have to come over, though."

You stare at the state of your desk. A deadline for your college assignment is almost upon you, and you've got multiple papers and electronic devices spread out before you. "Why.. Jjunie, I've got so many things I need to do..."

And this time, you should probably ACTUALLY do them instead of having your hand down your pants.

"Yn.. did you forget what day it is?" His voice is quiet, soft but prodding slightly, and you can't help but feel guilty when you check the date. You had forgotten.

It was your 8th friendiversary, the anniversary of the time Yeonjun had decided to talk to the cute girl who was practically in charge of his Lit class. And every day since then he's stuck by you like an actual idiot.

"Yeonjun, I'm really sorry, I- I forgot and I've got a whole lot of stuff I need to do... I don't know if I can make it tonight."

Your heart is tight in your chest and you put a hand in your hair, looking down at your papers.

"One night, Yn. One night is all we need to celebrate, we do this every year, can't you take off 24 hours?" You can hear the plea in his voice, and it makes you take a deep breath.

You close your eyes and think this through. The paper is due in three days, you're more than three quarters done and that took only four days, that leaves enough time to finish and proofread and...

"Fine. Alright. I'm coming. Give me 15 minutes?"

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he responds. "See you then."

And 15 minutes later, you're there, on his couch and sipping his wine.

"Tell me what you've been up to, Jjunie. Haven't seen you in at least a few weeks," You grin, smiling at him over your glass.

"You know... Work, school, just the usual."

You raise your eyebrows teasingly, then wiggle them. "Any special girls you have your eye on?"

You say it in a joking way, but deep inside, you hope the answer is no. But you're not exactly sure WHY that would be... you've never been opposed to his previous girlfriends before. In fact, you liked most of them.

Yeonjun lowers his gaze to the floor with a shy smile before looking back up at you, and that's the moment you know. "Well... actually... there IS this one girl I've been thinking about recently."

You smile, because that's what you did every time you've had this conversation previously. "Yes? Who is she?"

His cheeks go pink and he waves you away. "No one. I- No one."

Well, that's different. Usually he told you without hesitation, some girl from uni or a coworker or even someone he met online. But now he's being a little suspicious...

You don't push it, though. That was an unspoken rule between the two of you: you don't push the other person to tell you something unless it really, really matters.

"Anyways, what about you? Any boys on your mind?"

You press your lips together and think for a moment. "Ye- No... wait yes, no, no never mind. I wish though."

Yeonjun raises his eyebrows at you and smiles slightly, adjusting his position on the couch next to you to cross one leg over the other. "And how come you wish?"

His movement had brought him a little closer to you, and, much to your confusion, you can feel your heart rate speed up.

You ignore it and mimic his position. "Cause. I've got a little bit of a problem, and sometimes I wish I had someone to help."

"Problem?"

You stifle a giggle and take another sip of your wine. "Of the sexual variety."

"How so?"

Yeonjun's face is devoid of anything uncomfortable, and you shrug. "Getting myself off doesn't feel as good as it used to. I don't know, maybe I just need to switch it up but... whatever, it probably sounds dumb." You laugh awkwardly, rubbing the nape of your neck.

"Do you have any toys you could use?" he asks, and for a moment you think he's making fun of you, but the way he holds your gaze with his is dead serious.

You nod. "I've tried... it didn't work very well. Just felt like one dull thing the entire time. I KNEW that I came, it just didn't feel like it, you know?"

Yeonjun nods. "And you don't have anyone to fuck you?"

The way he says it is so casual it makes your cheeks grow hot. Almost embarrassed at your inability to find a sexual partner, you shake your head. "No." You're not even sure if he knows you're a virgin.

Yeonjun looks down at his drink for a moment, other hand fiddling with the hem of the black tank he's wearing, the one that makes you focus a little too much on his collarbones whenever he wears it. Then he looks back at you, cheeks a little pink.

"Do you... want to, um, see if i can help?" he asks, and you understand why his cheeks were flushed. Your own are hot, and you swallow slightly.

To be fair, it's not like you don't want him to. Your eyes trace the obviously attractive lines of his body and when he catches you looking, his eyes go wide.

He rushes to apologize for his words, but you shake your head quickly. "No, you're good, don't- don't apologize, of course we can, I mean, you're hot and you're offering and I-"

Yeah, you decide to shut your mouth here, which is probably the smartest decision you've ever made, because holy shit, you just told your best friend you think he's hot.

And he noticed. Now he's smirking at you, eyebrows raised and the most cocky look on his face.

To your surprise, he doesn't say anything else, simply moving to a separate position on the couch and spreading your legs slightly. One is off the couch, the other over the back, and it's uncomfortable but not so much that you mind.

Yeonjun's laying between your legs and he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. Your already speeding heart beats even faster at the look he gives you, tongue swiping over his lips just once.

"Tell me if you change your mind?"

Him checking in is sweet, but you can tell you're dripping right now, and prolonging this is only making you more impatient. You give him your most annoyed expression and he laughs, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your jean shorts. Yeonjun tugs them off with one movement and you can feel his torso tense with a short breath.

You almost giggle to yourself at the way his eyes blow out at the visible wet spot in your panties. You slide them off yourself, watching his reaction again to your bare pussy in front of him, a swallow cutting off whatever words he was going to say.

And all of a sudden, you're hit with a wave of insecurities unfamiliar to you, especially unfamiliar around Yeonjun. 'Does my body look weird to him? Will he not like it? Oh shit, I haven't shaved down there in months, what if he backs off because he doesn't like body hair...'

You try to clear your thoughts, focusing on his expression alone. Lips pushed out in a pout, black hair swept out of his face, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. You bite your own lip and move to close your legs. "Jjun... is it bad?"

His gaze snaps up to yours so fast its unsettling, eyes going wide once more. They narrow slightly as a smirk finds its way to his perfect plump lips. Ah shit, now you were simping for his lips. Again.

"No, not bad at all, just thinking about how long my best friend kept her pretty pussy from me..."

His words leave you speechless, immobile as he pushes your legs apart once more, slender fingers on your now bare thighs making you tremble. Yeonjun just smiles up at you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "For someone saying she wasn't sensitive enough, you sure do get wet so easily, don't you, n/n?"

"Fuck you, Jjun, it's not usually like this."

You scowl down at him, because it's never like this... you can feel your slick dripping down to your ass. Shit, he's got you all a mess.

But your words are apparently the wrong thing for the situation, because the look on his face is nothing but cocky. "Am I that hot then? Hot enough that I've got you dripping and I haven't even touched you?"

You can't meet his eyes. Because the answer's yes, it's always been yes.

Since you met him that day 8 years ago, you've had at least a minor crush on him. It would wean itself whenever he had girlfriends-- you're not a homewrecker. But it was always there to some extent, presenting itself through hot cheeks at his compliments, racing heartbeats when he got too close.

As of late, though, your little crush presented itself through your hands shoved down your pants at night. You know it's bad, gross, perverted even, but you can't help it. He came over to your house and you listened to music in your bed together? You're laying in the same bed at night, playing the same music, toying with your clit.

You've even gone so far as to spell his name out against your sensitive bud with circles of your fingertip, gasping out "oh fuck, Yeonjun, don't stop..." as you cum.

You absolutely never expected any of that to come close to coming true.

And now, here he is, between your thighs, awaiting your response with an expectant look.

"I...-" You cut yourself off out of need to preserve your self esteem. "Will you shut up and just touch me like you're supposed to?"

Your gaze settles on the ceiling, unable to give another glance to the sight between your legs.

"Jjun, I swear to god, if you don't— oh, fuck!"

Your hand shot out to grab his hair without a single thought— his tongue had found its place between your folds so fast that your thighs jolted together involuntarily.

"I fucking hate you, why would you just start there? You know I'm— fuck— know I'm a, Jjun, stop!— you know I'm a virgin, n-never..."

He barely listens to you, eyes on your pussy, and just laughs. Laughs when your head lolls back against the couch cushion, your legs shaking. Your grip on his hair doesn't cease, it only tightens the more his tongue laves your soaked cunt.

Yeonjun is your opposite— a master at this, you have no idea how many girls he's fucked before, you know you're not his first. But right now, his face between your legs while he absolutely devours you, you couldn't care less.

He knows exactly where to do what, catching your clit between his lips with a hum. Obscene sounds are all you can hear as he laps at your wetness, acting like you're the best thing he's ever tasted.

His hands are gentle on your thighs, pushing them farther apart to taste you even better. They meet your stomach to push you back down when your hips shift up to rut against his face, and the feeling makes your stomach twist in pleasure.

"Pretty doll's so pretty under me, don't worry, I'll make your first time so good, promise.." Yeonjun's tone is a purr against you, and you whine. He only coos, "Awh, baby, did you think I wasn't gonna take care of you? Gonna make you feel so good, like you've never felt before.."

You look down at him, tears filling your waterline. "Jjun, feels good 'lready, don' know if I can take more..."

"I've got you, alright? You can let go for me baby, never gonna hurt you."

Your mind is fuzzy, pleasure rolling up every limb of your body in soft tingly ways— Yeonjun's lips have you a goner so easily it's almost embarrassing. Not gone enough, however, to skip over the fact that his hips are rolling against the cushions in a rhythm not unlike the one he was eating you out with.

"C-can you use your fingers, please?" you gasp, rolling your hips against his face with so much desperation its almost embarrassing.

But the familiar tightening sensation in your stomach is building, and when the finger Yeonjun's nestled between your walls curls in towards your stomach, your walls are fluttering around his single digit.

A broken whine leaves your lips when the sensation is ripped away from you. Yeonjun looks at your shaking form with a look that makes you melt— eyes soft on yours, lips pulled into a small smile. Lips that are connected to your cunt with a single string of your arousal.

"Why'd you stop, was close..." Your dignity is gone by now, and you have no qualms about sounding pouty and needy to him.

"You're not gonna cum around anything other than dick your first, alright? Gonna make it worth your while," he hums, standing and pulling the hem of his black tank over his head.

Your lips form a small o of surprise. It's not like you haven't seen him shirtless before. You have, plenty of times. But fuck, he really isn't that scrawny boy from grade 11 anymore.

Smooth honey-gold skin, ripples of muscles under his skin cause slight shadows on his torso and arms. His shoulders are broad, broader than you've let yourself realize, and you find yourself holding your breath when he slips his thumb under the waistband of his grey sweatpants.

They're low on his hipbones, which are angular and prominent, reminding you of sex. That could also just be the fact that you're in such a deep stage of need that you can't think straight.

In one deft movement, his sweatpants are off and on the floor, and why the fuck was he wearing Calvin Klein underwear? You swallow once, still laying akimbo on his couch, and he looks over at you with a shy smile.

The sheer quiet uncertainty of his expression causes something to possess you to say, "You look hot. Like really fucking sexy. " You chew your lip when he smiles slightly, his ears pink. "I think you should fuck me now."

Yeonjun laughs out loud at that. "I'm not even naked yet, you're so impatient.."

"Please?"

"Fine..." He moves to tug his boxers off, and you could slap yourself at the little involuntary noise your throat makes.

Oh.

Now you understand why he only laughed at all the jokes you've made about him being small.

He's definitely not small— bigger than average, with a very slight upward curve and a prominent vein winding its way up the underside. His tip is flushed the pink of his lips, leaking dribbles of precum down the side of his shaft.

No wonder he pulls.

His eyes meet yours, he lets out a quiet giggle at your slack jaw. "Is it okay, then?"

You nod once, calm yourself, and whisper, "I don't think it's gonna fit."

"Told you I'll take care of you, won't hurt you, I promise."

Yeonjun joins you on the couch once more and you can't resist anymore. Pressing a desperate kiss to his lips and pulling him closer by the smooth of his shoulders, you can feel him smile against your lips. His are soft and plush and feel like heaven. It's not like you haven't kissed him before— you were 20 and lonely and it was a particularly rough night, not a great combo.

But this is different.

His mouth is warm and inviting, his hands gripping your arms to pull you closer, and you let out a soft whimper when he draws you into his lap. His dick is pressed right against your clit, unbearably tempting and you mumble, "Please, Jjun, need you..."

Yeonjun holds you with almost uncharacteristic sweetness as he moves you under him, and you press your face to his neck, leaving soft kisses to his moles.

His tip grows your entrance and he lets out a soft moan, first erotic noise of the night, and a noise that sends you reeling. Pushing past the tight rim of muscle, he pauses to allow you to get adjusted.

Yeonjun rolls his hips against yours, never letting more than an inch of him inside you for fear of hurting you, and you cling to him, because holy fuck, this was not what you expected.

Fucking your best friend is an interesting experience.

Legs wrapped around his back trying to pull him closer, he only smiles, laughing at your needy whines.

"N-need, please, Jjun, can take you, promise..." Teary eyes meet his hooded gaze as your babbles are met with silence. He presses a kiss to your neck to quiet you, cockhead repeatedly pushing itself inside your gummy walls while you beg underneath him. His thumb presses against your clit and the touch is some relief— but little.

He tsks in your ear moments later, "Need to prep you baby, alright? Gotta get you ready for your first time, 'specially since it's with me, don't wanna ruin this pretty pussy just yet..~"

Yeonjun loves the way you writhe underneath him, trying to force your hips closer to his. It makes his own reserved pleasure that much better.

Your shirt is hiked up from the friction between you two, and he pulls the soft fabric up all the way, practically drooling at the sight of your tits. "Such a pretty body, doll, can't believe no one's gotten to take you yet, 'm lucky it's me.."

You can only nod quickly, gripping his forearm for some sort of grounding sensation, because you can feel the drag of his cock along your walls and it's fucking glorious.

"Jjunie, please, can take you, can take it, I'll be so good for you, take it all, I promise..!"

Your head rocked back, Yeonjun smiles softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "Don't wanna hurt you, too pretty, don't wanna make you cry," he mumbles.

You shake your head hard. "Won't hurt me, can do it, can do it, please."

You watch him wrestle with this mentally, and notice the exact moment he loses it all.

Kissing you hard, tongue meeting yours and taking your breath away, his hips inch closer and closer to yours until your skin is against his. His body is warm against yours, and there's a slight tremor in him that throws you off a little.

Yeonjun's not faring well with you around him. He knew you were going to feel like fucking heaven when he was inside you for the first time, but he needed to seriously work if he wanted to give you more than the five minute fuck his body was going to currently allow him.

When his body is finally pressed flush to you, your mouth drops open in a silent scream. He feels even better than you imagined— filling you up in all the right way like he's the fucking last piece in a jigsaw puzzle. He presses a kiss to your cheek with a pout, eyes wide and concerned. "'s it too much? Please tell me, baby, only wanna make you feel good."

"Feels so good, Jjun, so full, filling me so good..." You manage a cocky smile through the sheer pleasure running through your video. "Told you I could take it..."

Yeonjun huffs out a small breath of laugh, face in your neck, and sucks a purpling hickey onto your skin. "Not even moving yet, want me to?"

"Yes please, need you so bad, needed this for so long..." you mumble out, cheeks going hot.

His face flushes adorably, hips rutting against yours with a newfound desperation you hadn't expected. "Can feel how much you need me," he grins. His pace is faster now, quarter notes compared to the half notes from previous. "Can you feel how much I need you?"

You can. Can feel him trembling above you, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, tears wetting his lashes at the pure feeling of your cunt clamped down around him.

Your staccato gasps of "oh— oh— oh—" are music to his ears, and Yeonjun makes it a silent mission to hear absolutely every noise you're capable of making.

The head of his cock finds the spongey spot inside you with ease, and the squeak that falls from your lips sends him reeling. The first few tears slip down your cheeks when he abuses that spot over and over, and when he notices, Yeonjun has to look away. Pretty best friend, fucked out on his cock, crying for him... He holds your hand with a gentleness so unexpected you whimper, and he smiles again, kissing up your neck.

"Jjun, need, more— oh fuck— need more, s' close, please, give me?"

The look on your face decides for him, so pure and innocent, and he's fucking into you at a pace so animalistic you're practically screaming, mouth perpetually hung open.

The high that throws itself over you is so intense that you hit it with a noise thats almost a yelp, shaking under Yeonjun. He holds you close, balls deep in you, fingertips on your clit spelling out over and over again something you realize to be his name.

It seems to last forever, as if you're frozen in time itself, alone with Yeonjun's sweet scent winding itself around you.

With a jolt, you're back, pressing a hand to your stomach, where you can feel a small bulge under your fingertips. "Oh shit."

"What?"

He freezes, and Yeonjun's tone is panicked, and he looks down at you with such pure worry, like he's afraid after your peak that you've suddenly realized you made a mistake.

"Feel," you hum, taking his hand in yours once more and pressing it to your stomach, palm down. "Can feel you."

Yeonjun's eyes go wide and he sucks in a breath so sharp you can hear it. He presses his hand even harder against you before quickly yanking it away. "Can't think about that too much, gon' cum too quickly..."

Too quickly? He's been fucking you for 10 minutes, and he's worried about cumming too soon?

"Can.. Can you make me cum again?" You whisper, cheeks hot again, embarrassment winding up every limb in your body. "Never felt like that before..."

Your best friend looks down at you with such endearment in his eyes that your current position is almost funny. "I'll make you feel even better, promise."

His hips meet yours with a new frequency, faster and harder than before, and once again, you're reduced to a mess of babbles and whines under him.

Your head grows fuzzy, only focusing on the repeated action of his dick inside your pussy. Which sounds simple, but it was genuinely perhaps the best thing you've ever felt.

His breathing heavy, Yeonjun is focused fully on your body and the pleasure his ministrations are causing. A small smirk toys with the corners of his lips as you look up at him, mewling, eyes glassy with tears.

"Yeah? Feel good, doll?"

You nod again, swallowing hard, and he sighs out a laugh. "Looking so pretty under me, glad I'm making you feel good, making your first so good, aren't I?"

His pants paint the skin of your neck and make you tingle deliciously, the idea that you're managing to make this beautiful boy feel just as good as he's making you feel.

You tighten desperately around him with every action, and when you do, looking up at him, you can see Yeonjun's losing himself just a little. His eyebrows are furrowed like he's holding back, lips pursed out in a pout more focused than annoyed, and you grip his wrist with a choked noise when his slightly calloused fingertips meet your clit once more.

"'m so sorry, baby, can't do 't anymore, pretty pussy's taking me so good... gon' take you with me, alright?"

You can only smile up at him through your pleasure-induced tears. "Go ahead, can take it, take you s' good.."

Yeonjun's otherwise perfect thrusts fade to imperfection as he nears his high, writing his name on your clit once more, over and over, like he's claiming you as his. His whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat, like he's glowing from within. "Yeah? Gon' be a good girl 'nd take all of me?"

"Can do it, can take you, wan' it s' bad.." you're slurring your words at this point, grabbing onto him out of desperation to keep yourself grounded in reality.

His pelvis ruts into you so hard you gasp, second high somehow even better than the first, and you're left out of body until the feeling of his warm cum painting your insides brings you crashing back down.

Yeonjun's shaking above you, and you chase his lips to press a consoling kiss to them, carding a hand through his hair as he calms down.

Rolling off of you, he takes a moment to catch his breath, eyes locked on his cum dripping out of your abused cunt. His gaze flicks up to meet yours a second later, and he smiles to himself at the fucked out look on your face. Thank god he did you right.

He gets a phone call moments later, and sits to answer it with an apologetic look at you. "Yes?" His tone is devoid of feeling, but softens when he hears the voice on the other end. "Yes, it's all right, I'll be over later, 'kay?"

He hangs up after a moment and looks at you with a tentative look, waiting for something from you. When he doesn't get it, he says, "You can, um, use my shower, if you want?"

As you look at him, the weight of everything that just happened crashes down on you. Oh shit. You just fucked your best friend. You fucking lost your virginity to your best friend. You just let him cum inside you. You're fucked. Literally. And then he was on the call with someone else, some other girl, and this is probably the worst situation you've gotten yourself into

You sit abruptly, avoiding his eyes. "I have to go."

Yeonjun's expression is nothing short of confusion and hurt when you stumble, off balance, to pull on your underwear and shorts once more. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Not the fucking pet name. Not again.

You shake your head. "I have to go. This was a bad idea."

And without another word, you're walking out his door.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You avoid him as best you can, but it isn't easy when he's so desperate for some sort of answer from you. 10 missed calls and 17 texts later, you find yourself back in the same room as him, much to your chagrin.

It wasn't on purpose! Your friends had decided that your monthly hang out was happening a week earlier than usual this time, and inside Taehyun's living room, you sit as far from Yeonjun as you possibly can.

Dinner is already torture, but after?

You avoid eye contact with him, avoid talking to him, hell, you avoid looking at him at all. Sitting between Beomgyu and Kai, Yeonjun's on Beomgyu's left, perfectly out of your eye line.

You and Kai yapping about Animal Crossing, you can feel Yeonjun's eyes on you, and you try your hardest to act normal. It's hard enough to be able to smell him in the room, soft and subtle but so unbearably there.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, and you hold your head in your hands, hip leaned against the counter.

Maybe you're being overdramatic. It's not that big of a deal to lose your virginity to someone who you've known for 8 years. You're sure it's happened to someone before. It's normal! It's just sex, after all, you don't have real feelings for him, definitely not.

But he's just dyed his hair red, and the thoughts running through your head are not friendly ones at all.

You feel insane. You shouldn't be simping after someone who you've known for so long. It would ruin everything between the two of you, wouldn't it?

You move to turn on the faucet. Washing your hands for no other reason but hope to get rid of the feeling of Yeonjun on your skin, you dry them on one of the hanging towels and open the bathroom door.

Oh, fuck this.

Yeonjun stands right outside the door, leaning against the wall, and when it opens, he straightens up to look at you. "Yn.. can we talk? Please? I-I need you to tell me what I did."

Something in his eyes makes your heart break in two. He looks so confused, so unaware of exactly how you feel, and you run a hand over your hair. "Jjun. You've been my best friend. For eight years. And I let you take my fucking virginity. What do you think you did?"

"Did I not fuck you good?" His voice is small, tentative, and you sigh in frustration.

"No, you fucked me just fine."

"Then what's the problem?"

"That's the problem, Jjun. I let you fuck me because I've wanted this for years, and it was a mistake. I don't want to lose my best friend because I told you I couldn't get myself off."

He runs a hand through his newly-red hair and visibly collects his thoughts. After a moment, Yeonjun says, "Do you not like me?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

His cheeks are red, and there are tears beading in his water line, making his eyes sparkle. You purse your lips out in confusion, and he continues.

"Do you think I'd fuck you if I didn't have feelings for you? Do you really think I'm that much of a whore?" His voice is quiet, searching, and you're genuinely surprised. "Did you even think about the fact that I didn't tell you who I was into? Because it's you, dummy. I volunteered to take your virginity because I've been wanting to be the one who gets to do that since that day you kissed Taehyun. And I realized that I didn't want you to be with anyone other than me."

He rubs the nape of his neck with a small smile through the tears in his eyes. "It's selfish, probably. Isn't it? To want to be the only one for you?"

Your eyes are blown out wide, lips parted in surprise. "What the fuck?! Why didn't you tell me before you fucked me? Or during? Hell, even after instead of making me feel fucking crazy for liking you?"

"You didn't say anything, did you?" Yeonjun smiles slightly.

You press your lips together. "You offered in the first place! I didn't have to say anything."

"Fine. I'll say it now. I like you. I want you. I've thought about you at 2am every night for the past 2 years. I fucked you because I want to date you."

His eyes have a softness to them, akin to the way he looked at you when you were under him, and you don't have the words to respond.

You're pressed up against him in seconds, arms around his waist, lips on his with such urgency that you feel him laugh against you. Yeonjun kisses you back with the same pure passion, hands finding their way to cup your cheeks, and suddenly it feels like all is right with the world.

The atmosphere in the room is soft, intimate almost, when you find yourself on Taehyun's guest bed with a giggle. "You're so pretty, fuck.." you exhale, laughing when he grips the plush of your thighs to pull you closer.

You're positioned on top of him, heart going fast, and you're half subconsciously running your hand up and under his shirt.

He lets out a pretty gasp of a moan when you pinch at his nipple. "Don't, can't fuck with them out there, never gon' hear the end of it..."

The tears from before are finally slipping down his cheeks, and you press a kiss to his cheek to stop them from rolling off his chin. "Won't fuck you, but let me get you off, please? Wan' show you how much you mean to me.."

A soft exhale slips past his lips when you settle behind him, legs looped around his. Your head rests on his shoulder— you can hear his heartbeat through the cotton of his oversized shirt when you run your hand over the front of his pants. You tug the waistband of the loose athletic shorts down slowly, watching his every reaction with a soft smile on your face, and oh, the way the corners of his lips turn up so prettily when you run a soft hand over the entirety of his length.

"Always loved you, did you know?" you mumble, finally tugging him out of his pants with a whine from him.

"Didn' know, wish I did, woulda— fuck, s-slow down— woulda fucked you soon-ner..."

"Shush pretty, don't want them to hear, you can't be quiet 'nough, can you?"

He shakes against you when you slide your fist up his dick again, faster with each repetition, head hanging to his chest as he accepts what you give him, rendered putty beneath your hands. Yeonjun's noises are choked, slipping past the restraints of his lips no matter how much he tries otherwise. His head rocks all the way back when you speed up, and the sight of his collarbones on display has you reeling, wanting to give him everything he deserves and more.

"Doing so good for me, pretty boy, aren't you? So pretty with your new hair, did you do it for me?" humming against his neck while you suck dark hickeys, just high enough above his neckline for them to be visible. He just nods, gripping your free hand in his, and you look down at his dick in your hand with a smile.

Tip peeking through your fingers every time the side of your hand meets his pelvis, you notice a small birthmark on his pubic line and make note of it with a grin. His soft whines meet your ear like a melody from angels. "M— 'm so close, don't stop, don't stop, n/n, please!"

Yeonjun's small cry as he reaches his peak wrenches through your body as if he's touching you, and you let go of his hand and hold up his shirt to keep him from making a mess of it. "There we go, so pretty, what a good boy, love you..." You jerk off his softening cock, milking him completely, and only when his overstimulated mewls reach your ears do you stop.

The boy in front of you is a mess, sweat making his neck shiny, cum painting his tummy in ropes of white, tears streaking his cheeks, lips swollen from the tug of his teeth. But he looks so pretty, eyes glazed, a pleasured smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you.

"Love you too, s' glad you love me back."

You're leaning your forehead to his, going in for a sweet kiss, when you hear, "Guys, where'd yn and Yeonjun go?" from the hallway.

All in a frenzy, you jump up, tripping over your feet on your way to grab something to wipe Yeonjun clean, and you get to him just in time for the door to open.

Soobin stands there with his eyebrows raised, looking at the two of you on the bed, Yeonjun's hot cheeks, and the rag in your hand. He slaps a hand over his mouth before turning on his heel. "Found them!"

"Fucking hell," you mutter, straightening your own clothes while Yeonjun stands on shaky legs, tugging you into his arms.

"Doesn't matter, they were all bound to find out, was too loud anyways..." he smiles, nuzzling your neck, then drags you out and to the others.

Soobin's actively whispering in the ear of Beomgyu when the two of you walk in, and Taehyun shoots an annoyed look your way.

"My guest bed? Really?"

Yeonjun shrugs, checks the time, and grabs your hand again. You're still not used to this sensation— his hand is warm and soft, fingertips slightly calloused, and it fits perfectly with yours, like he was made for you. The thought makes you dizzy.

"This was fun, guys, but we have somewhere to be..." Yeonjun's saying to the others when you tune back in to reality. You gape up at him, but he just smirks down at you.

"In each others pants, most likely," Beomgyu mutters under his breath, and you roll your eyes.

But Yeonjun only winks, pulling you behind him out of the house and into his car, mumbling something about how he'll get yours later, and before you know it, this time you're in his bed.

Yeah, you're not getting any sleep tonight.

#adas hard hours #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #tomorrow x together smut #tomorrow x together hard thoughts #tomorrow x together hard hours #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x yn #yeonjun x you #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #my jjun 🦊👑 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

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luvf4ngz · 6 months

Text

HOT LOVE ON THE WING - jason todd.

Descripton: You’re not upset about your most recent breakup; you’re just upset you have no one to fuck anymore. Good thing your Shakespeare loving best friend, Jason, has a solution to that.

Contents: This Bad Boy Is PACKED With Shakespeare References, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating (Not By Jason Or Reader), You And Jason Are Absolute Fucking DORKS, Good Friend Jason Todd, Best Friend Jason Todd, Self-Indulgent, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female Reader, HEAVY Banter, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation :), Pet Names, Praise Kink, Dacryphilia, Soft Jason Todd, Dom Jason Todd, Missionary Position, Doggy Style, Cowgirl Position, Nipple Play, Spanking, Rough Sex, Dumbification, Fucked Stupid, Unrealistic Sex, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Spit/Drool, Goofy Giggly Sex, But Also Hard and Fast Sex, Jason Destroys Your Spiderman Panties :(

Word Count: 3131

Author's Note: If it wasn't obvious from the tags this is a repost from my AO3 hehe. This is genuinely my favorite fic I've ever written, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :) <3

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

You threw open the door to his dorm, instantly honing in on his bed and diving into the soft plush. Jason is sitting at his desk, looking up at you from his book with a roll of his eyes at your dramatic entrance.

“Well, hello to you too.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but his smile betrays his facade. “It’s nice to see you again, stranger. How long has it been, hm?” He teases, his words alluding to the fact that you’ve been spending less time with him lately in favor of being with your “new boy toy” - as he put it.

You let out a hum into the comforter before moving to your side to properly look at him. “Well I think you’ll be very happy to hear that I’m all yours again, Todd, so there’s no need to be jealous.” You cheekily reply.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. You thought it made him look adorable.

“I broke up with my ‘boy toy’, as you so politely called him.” You giggled out, using your fingers as quotation marks for emphasis.

“What!? What happened?” Jason’s eyes widened at the news you so casually dropped.

“Apparently he’s been cheating on me for some time. My friend showed me some pictures of him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat at a party so I broke it off with him this morning. Anyways, what’s been going on in Jay-Land?” You grin widely as you gaze at him from the bed.

Your attempt at changing the topic of conversation went unsuccessful.

Jason sat up from his spot, setting his book down before hurriedly making his way over to you, settling down beside you on the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t I seem okay to you? I’m just fine, dude.” You tried to reassure him, your voice unwavering and relaxed as your eyes followed him.

“I mean, I guess; but I thought you really liked him.”

“It seems like you want me to be sad over this. What do you want me to say? ‘Tears seven times salt burn the sense and virtue from mine eyes!’” You gasp out the line dramatically, bringing a hand to cover your heart and the other to wipe non-existent tears from your face, before bursting out into giggles.

“Don’t you go quoting Shakespeare at me! That’s my role in this friendship!” Jason playfully nudges your shoulder as a wide grin breaks out on his own face.

“The Jason doth protest too much, methinks.” You do your best to put on a snooty tone, but your laughter prevents it.

“Oh, shut up.”

Another round of cackles start up between the two of you, and you both relish in the comfortable silence that falls after.

“You know,” You start, breaking the silence and making Jason’s head turn towards you. “There is one thing I’m sad about.”

“What?”

“His dick game was mad good.” You say with an extravagant sigh. “I’m gonna miss it.” You fake a few sniffles.

“Aw, come on now. There’s other dick out there.”

“Nah, it’s too much work. I’ll just have to survive without it for now. ‘But I have that within which passeth show; these but the trappings and the suits of woe.’”

“I can’t believe he’s got you so cock-drunk that you’re quoting Hamlet.” Jason tsks out in false disapproval. “He’s not good enough to be depressed for.”

“He’s not, but the sex definitely was.”

“It couldn’t have been that good.”

“It was.”

“Not better than what I could do though.”

“Ehhhhhh…” You squinch your face together in overplayed disbelief, causing him to fix you with a sharp glare and a hurt gasp.

“Is that a challenge?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing in competitiveness.

“I know it not ‘seems’.”

“You cheeky motherfucker.” Jason smiles out before grabbing your waist and throwing you further up the bed. It causes you to let out a startled yelp as Jason moved to hover over your body.

“Oh? You gonna prove it to me, Todd? You must be overcompensating for something if you get this riled up over such a small comment. You know, if you wanted to fuck me - you could have just asked.”

“Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing.” He leans in to bite your neck, making your body jolt against his.

“Hey! Play nice, Todd.” You scold, slapping his shoulder before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’m ever so sorry, madam.” He fake pouts before attacking your face with kisses.

“Stop!” You squeal out, giggles erupting uncontrollably from the ticklish sensation. You move your hands to his chest, pushing him away from you. “Are you ever gonna get on with it, or are you just gonna keep messing around?”

“That’s a fair thought: to lie between maids’ legs.”

“Ugh, it doesn’t sound as good when you do it.”

“Excuse you? I’m a Shakespeare quoting champ!”

“You’re awfully defensive today, Todd.” You note with a grin.

“Keep talking, princess, see what happens.” He jokingly warns.

He pulls back from you to pull his shirt over his head, before going to tug at his pants. You follow after him, sitting up to discard your own clothing. Once you both are left in your underwear, Jason pushes you flat against the bed again.

“Spiderman panties. Cute.”

“Shut up. It’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You grumbled out at his observation. You forgot about them and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Mhm, sure, sweetheart.”

Jason starts planting sloppy kisses on your skin, trailing his way down your body until he’s reached your waistband. He shuffles down the bed and lies down between your legs, leaning in to snatch the fabric of your underwear between his teeth and ripping it off your legs.

“Jay! I liked that pair!”

“My bad, princess, I’ll be sure to buy you some new ones.”

“Better still be spiderman.”

“I’m more Team Cap.” He disserts before gripping your thighs and dragging your core closer to his face; the back of your calves rest on his shoulders.

His eyes drag down your glistening pussy before he lets out a loud wolf whistle at the sight.

“Ew, Todd!” You laugh, trying to kick him for the action but the hold he has on you is too tight to allow movement.

“What? I’m just appreciating the view.”

He dips his head down, tongue flicking at your hooded clit before he wraps his lips and around the bud and sucks. He feels your thighs tighten around his head as your own tilts up to let out a loud moan. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, expertly working the nub in circles as he peers up at you.

Your head is turned to the side, eyes clenched and lips spilling shaky whines.

‘A damn nice sight’, if he did say so himself.

He continues to stimulate your clit with his thumb, pressing his tongue to your dripping hole to lap up your arousal.

“Fuck, Jason! You really know how to put the money where your mouth is,” You mumble into the sheets, hips bucking up every once in a while from the pleasure.

Jason grips you tighter, preventing you from moving. He briefly looks up to note “I think you’ll find I know how to use my mouth quite well”, before moving to continue eating you out.

His actions are faster, more feverous. His tongue runs up and down your sex, your slick coating his taste buds. He savors it - lets out a deep hum that reverberates through your pussy and up your spine, sending shivers through your body. He sucks and slurps at you, so passionate that you swear you can feel your soul escaping through your cunt. The wet smacks do nothing but turn you on more, your thighs pressing closer to his head and acting as earmuffs.

Your hands move from their place bunched in his sheets to his hair, tanging the dark locks between your fingers and instinctively tugging. It causes a low groan to tear from his throat, the bass and depth of it fueling the uncontrollable hot ache in your stomach. That only makes you want to do it again. The second tug makes a sound that’s akin to a growl, before Jason pauses his movements to stare up at you.

“Careful, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

It’s a sight to behold. Jason: heaving, eyes blown, his face shiny from your smeared slick. His mouth is open, panting - his gaze refusing to leave contact with yours. There’s mischief glimmering in the depth of his eyes.

You don’t reply - only smirk, and yank his head closer to your sex again.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.”

His hand moves from your clit to your dripping hole, two fingers pushing their way inside you. His lips reattach to your clit as he starts to move his fingers - fast and rough and leaving you no time to adjust to his intrusion.

“J-Jesus fuck!” He can feel your thighs twitching, can feel your fingers gripping onto his hair hard in response, and it only spurs him on more.

His palm smacks against your cunt with each hit, splattering your slick. His fingers move at an unfathomable speed, pads searching for that one spot inside you that will make you see white.

You’re whimpering and whining above him, senses overwhelmed at Jason’s rough ministrations. It’s too much: the pressure building inside you. It feels like you’re on the edge, senses ready to fall into a never-ending pit of endorphins and fear and exhilaration. There are fireworks inside you, lit and ready to burst and fry all of your sensibilities.

Finally, it happens - what Jason’s been waiting for. With a slightly tilted angle of his hand and a curl of his fingers, he finds it. He knows because you suddenly tense up; because you let out the most angelic, strung-out moan he’s ever heard; because your walls clamp down on his fingers and a jet of tangy, sweet liquid hits his awaiting tongue.

God he wishes he could watch you cum over and over and over. He’s gonna think back to this moment when he’s fucking his fist in the future - that’s for sure. The view of you - back arched, eyes teary. The sensation of you - warm and wet and tight against his digits. The sound of you - desperate and high pitched and wailing out his name. He wants it all burned into his brain.

“Jason, Jason!” Yeah, that’s the sound of heaven alright. “Jay! Stop! I came- I can’t!”

Hm?

Oh. He hasn’t stopped pumping his fingers inside you. Oh, well.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

God, you’re shaking. You look like a leaf shivering in the wind, or a cat left out in the rain. Your eyes are glossy and teary and fuck. You look so beautiful falling apart for him.

Your brain is in shambles, screaming and begging for a reprieve. It’s dizzying, the assault of your sensations. All you can hear, think, feel is Jason.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please!”

“Come on, princess. Just let go. Just one more for me, yeah?”

You can’t tell if the second orgasm hits you like a train or slowly drowns you in its weight. Maybe a mix of both - a crashing of a tsunami that simultaneously relieves your ache and steals your breath.

You’re sobbing, trembling, gasping for breath and trying to regain feeling from the clouds that seem to have replaced your nerves.

“You did so well.” Jason cooes. He’s sitting up, suckling your juices from his fingers like you were a decadent 5-star meal.

He moves to lay down beside you, pulling your body to curl into his, back to peppering your cheeks with chaste, affectionate kisses.

“Fuck, Jason.” You heave out, still slightly out of it.

“Was that okay? Did I get carried away?” He questions softly, concern lacing the green in his eyes.

“Yeah, no, that was great.” You quickly reassure him. “I just- wow. I need a moment.”

He chuckles quietly before holding you close to his body again. “So? Did I exceed your expectations?”

“Don’t get cocky. Hubris was the downfall of Macbeth.” You shuffle closer to him. “Speaking of cocky, is that a dagger - or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you princess,” Jason croons. “but I am extremely rock hard right now, too.”

Your hands drift down his body, sensually tracing every muscle from his chest to his pelvis, before tugging off his boxers.

You swing your body on top of his, straddling his waist as you begin pumping his cock.

“Well then” You start, positioning yourself on top of his awaiting member, “O’ happy dagger, this is thy sheath…”

You start to sink down on him as you finish the quote, your words trailing off into a wanton moan.

“I’d yell at you for saying something so stupid if you weren’t fucking squeezing my cock right now.” Jason manages to huff out. His teeth are gritted, eyes shut as he tries not to cum at the sensation of you wrapped warm and tight around him.

His large hands settle on your waist as yours plant themselves on his chest for support.

“You have to admit, it’s clever wordplay.” You mewl, mind fuzzy from the sensation of his dick stretching you out.

Tingles shoot up your body as the pain dissolves into a delicious fullness. You crave friction, your very core feels like it's aching for it. In fact, you think you’ll go insane if you don’t start moving right now.

You carefully lift your hips up, before dropping back down again, repeating the motion over and over until you’ve built up a somewhat regular rhythm.

Moans ceaselessly flow from your lips, interspersed with mumbled swears and curses.

Your head is tipped forward, your hair falling into your face. Jason’s hand comes up to brush it back behind your ear, before gently cupping your cheek.

“You feel so good baby, fuck.” He grunts.

His other hand comes up to undo your bra, releasing your tits to him. Both palms move to cup them, kneading at the soft flesh before working your perked nipples with his fingers.

You still your movements with a whine, too confounded by the assault of stimulations you were feeling. That doesn’t mean that you’re not still desperate and yearning, though. Your thighs do their best to rub against each other, trying to chase friction despite your inaction.

It’s only as you rest that you feel how sore your legs have become, enough that you let out a pitiful mewl.

“Is my pretty baby tired?” Jason muses, while he’s still pinching and rolling your sensitive buds.

“Mhm,” You moan out in reply.

He quickly rolls the both of you over, laying you down onto your back again before flipping you onto your stomach.

You quickly shuffle onto your knees, arching back against him in wait.

“Good girl,” He laughs out. His palms rub against your cheeks, squeezing the flesh there before pulling back and giving it a slap.

It earns him a broken moan from your throat, and the view of your ass shaking in desperation.

It only makes him laugh again. “Have some patience, naughty girl.”

He spanks you again, and you keen so high-pitched and pretty that he can only relent to your demands.

Jason grips his cock and guides it to your wet folds, sliding it up and down before finally pushing in. You welcome him easily, pussy molding perfectly to his thick cock.

A hand settles on your waist while the other tangles into your hair. He yanks your head back as he starts fucking you hard and fast.

His hips smack hard against your ass with each thrust, slowly turning the skin there sore and heated. His cock is bullying its way in and out of you, the tip knocking against your sweet spot with a force that repeatedly knocks the breath and thoughts out of you.

Your eyes are rolled back, brain melted, as drool drips from your lips.

Chants of “fuck” and “Jay” are the only sounds your mouth remembers how to make now.

“Just keep saying my name like that, sweetheart.” Jason pants out.

He can’t believe how good you feel around him. You’re so warm and wet that his cock glides in and out so easy, making it effortless for him to abuse your poor cunt.

The hand in your hair guides you up to him, back pressed against his sweaty chest as he tilts your head and leans in for a kiss.

It’s messy with your spit and drool, both your movements uncoordinated and sloppy.

He fucks up into you all the while, gravity allowing him to hit harder and deeper inside you.

He can feel that you’re close again - your body is twitching against him, your cunt beginning to spasm.

The hand on your waist reaches to rub quick and hard circles against your clit, and you’re gone.

Your whole body shudders as you soak his cock, before going limp is his hold. It’s an intense buzzing sensation that overtakes you, settling deep in your veins until you’re trapped in a pleasing static. Your head is submerged in sticky syrup that makes it hard to think, so you just indulge in the calming weight of it.

Jason pulls out and gently maneuvers your dazed body back to the bed, hand working himself to completion before finishing on your stomach - his warm cum splattering on the skin as he lets out a husky grunt.

He stays there, catching his breath for a few moments before he disappears to the bathroom while you come down from your high, washing his hands and grabbing a damp towel to bring back to you.

He wipes you clean before poking your cheek until your gaze refocuses on him.

“How was it?” He cheekily smirks.

“I certainly died a lovely death in thy lap,” You chuckle.

“If you can still quote Shakespeare I didn’t fuck you dumb enough.” Jason frowns.

“Awh, cheer up, you big baby.” You reach out to pat his head endearingly, “I change my mind; your dick game is definitely better.”

“YES!” Jason fist-pumps like he just scored a touch-down and you smile at how stupid he looks. “Okay, now you go pee.” He shoos you away. “I’ll change the sheets and we can watch reruns of Gossip Girl again.”

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.” You fake tear-up, wiping your eyes before giggling the whole way to the bathroom.

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

#sumi — works.#sumi — dc.#red hood smut #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #dc smut #dc x reader #mdni #sumi — my love.

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nerdy-novelist017 · 2 months

Text

Ponytails and Promises (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader pt 5)

I'm sorry it's taken such a long time to get this posted ☹️ I've been dealing with a few health problems lately and it's made it hard to be creative. I'm not super proud of this but I hope you enjoy it regardless. As always, I'm so grateful for all of you wonderful readers! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.1k+

Summary- Time spent apart has both Benny and yourself wondering what the other is thinking.

******

For the tenth time in a row, you rehearsed what you were going to say as you peddled your bicycle down the street, the morning sun shining through the trees above. You’d been up all night, a ball of nerves working its way through your tummy in preparation of today’s meeting. The diner was busy when you approached, cars and even a few motorcycles parked out front. You hopped off your bike, swallowing thickly as you propped it in the bicycle rack. You tried to spot his motorcycle but quickly scolded yourself for even remembering the particular design of his. Thankfully, you didn’t see it in the lineup. You smoothed out your ponytail and checked your romper for any signs of creasing that he might not like. Satisfied with your appearance, you pushed the front door open and scanned the inside.

He sat at a booth on the far side and you swallowed your nerves and did a quick assessment of him as you neared. He didn’t look to be physically injured and you breathed a sigh of relief. He looked up when you stood before him and flashed you a quick, fleeting smile. As he said your name and it almost sounded unfamiliar to you.

“Hi, Pete,” you smiled as you waited for him to stand to greet you.

He nodded, motioning for you to sit and you tried not to appear dispirited as you slid into the opposite booth. There was a Coca-Cola bottle in front of him and you noticed that he’d ordered you water. You had to remind yourself that he didn’t know you very well yet and that he probably didn’t recall you preferred coke too.

“You look very nice,” you said, attempting to cut through the awkwardness between you.

He nodded again, murmuring a thanks.

Okay, better to get straight to your rehearsed lines, you supposed. “Thank you for meetin’ with me. A–and I owe you an apology. Pete, I had no idea he was going to do that.”

“Who was he?” Pete asked directly, cutting your speech short.

You put your hands out of the table in front of you, playing with the straw wrapper as you spoke, “He’s just some guy, a biker–”

“Yeah, I got that. I mean how do you know him?”

“He . . . was somebody I met when I was out with Kathy. Met him at a picnic,” you explained carefully as your gaze searched Pete’s eyes behind his glasses. “Remember, the one I told you about?”

“She’s becoming a bit of a wild thing, huh?” he asked and you could sense that it wasn’t really a question. There was a blatant statement hanging in his tight voice.

“She’s always been like that, I think,” you replied, trying to smother the defensive tone in your voice. “And I was only there for a short time, but I guess he took a liking to me.”

Pete hummed, glanced out the window for a moment so you continued, “Anyway, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what he did. You’re a really good person and you don’t deserve that.” You considered reaching across the table to touch his hand, but he leaned back in his seat before you could. “And. . . I was excited about our date.”

“Do your parents know about where you went? About him?” He seemed not to hear your last statement.

“No,” you admitted, brow furrowing. In fact, you haven’t told anyone about your date with Benny. Not even Kathy. You just came straight home and went up to bed where you laid awake for hours, mind reeling through every conversation the two of you shared, every word he spoke.

“They’d never approve of that,” he pointed out as he looked back at you.

“Well, they’re never going to find out because I don’t plan on seeing him again,” you stated, looking down at the condensation building on the outside of your untouched water glass.

“Good.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “You don’t belong with a group like that, anyway.”

It was strange hearing that from Pete. It was the same affirmation you had told yourself over and over again last night, but hearing him tell you that, as if you didn’t have a choice in the matter, left a bad taste in your mouth. All you could say was, “Yeah. . .”

You wanted to ask exactly what Benny had said to him, but before you could, Pete leaned forward, seeming to be in better spirits and said, “Dolls like you belong on a shelf where they can be admired and not broken.”

His words, at face value, were sweet, kind, but you couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that toyed in the back of your mind. Pete was the safe choice, you had to remind yourself. Pete was everything you had wanted for your future-husband, for your life. He wanted you to be exactly who you were raised to be. You could be a quiet doll whose whole existence was to sit on a shelf and look pretty.

You nodded, leaning forward to take a sip of your water as an excuse to not speak.

“I’m glad we worked through this,” he said as he waved down the waitress to order.

“Me too,” you said quietly as he ordered for you. And you meant it, you did. But something felt different with him now. There was a shift that seemed to occur and you weren’t sure what it was or if it would ever resolve. Pete didn’t seem to notice as he prattled on about his upcoming golf tournament, falling into a one-sided conversation that he was comfortable with.

As you absentmindedly picked at your plate of breakfast, you wondered —just briefly— if Benny was eating breakfast right now and if he was, what was on his plate?

When there was a lapse in silence, you looked up at Pete, suddenly asking, “Are you still planning on coming to the charity picnic with me today?”

His brows pinched together. “What charity picnic?”

“The one I told you about last week? It’s for the children of Chicago fund. Our church is hosting the cookout, remember?” You asked, specifically recalling having this conversation with him on your first date. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt; maybe he had been trying to process a lot of new information about you and this slipped his mind.

“Oh, right.” He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “I’ll have to check my schedule, make sure I don’t have anything else going on today.”

“Okay,” you nodded. He confirmed that he could go with you a week ago already. You slid out from the booth, grabbing your purse. “Well, I’ll maybe see you there then?”

He followed you, standing to his feet also. “Yeah.”

You made your way outside and he touched your arm before you could reach your bike. You were afraid that maybe he wanted to kiss you as he leaned forward but he only put his arms around you in a friendly hug instead.

“Bye, (Y/N),” he said as he broke free, turning and going back to his car.

“Goodbye, Pete.”

******

Benny lifted the glass to his lips, downing the rest of his drink. The scent of cigarette smoke and motor oil hung heavy in Cal’s garage where he, Johnny, Wahoo and Corky sat around as Cal worked on Corky’s bike. Benny’s eyes burned as he rubbed his face tiredly. He hadn’t slept well last night – worse than the few hours a night he usually got. His mind was too busy, filled with thoughts of you. Of the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder, of the way your dimples show when you smiled brightly. Of the way you looked so damn beautiful even when you were angry. And you were angry at him of all people which admittedly, he still didn't quite understand why. You were upset that he overstepped, sure. He got that. But when it came to a man like Pete? Benny could take one look at that man and see the strained facade he wore like a mask. Benny’s always been good at reading people, at seeing past the guise. And Pete was no good.

“What do you think, Benny?” someone had asked, drawing him back to reality.

“‘Bout what?” he asked, looking up at the faces around the garage.

“About the radiator hose,” Cal informed as he motioned to the stripped down bike and Benny honestly didn’t hear what was even wrong with it in the first place.

“Probably no good,” he replied with a shrug as he dug out his pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

As if Johnny sensed Benny’s more than usual reserve, he asked. “Hey, how’d the date go with Bunny last night?”

Benny glanced up at him. “Went good except I think she’s pissed at me.”

Cal laughed. “How could you consider that good then?”

Benny shot him a narrowed look. “We had a misunderstanding.”

“Are ya sure she’s mad?” Wahoo spoke up from the other side of the motorcycle. “When my old lady is horny, she just acts like she’s mad so I spank her and that really gets her going.”

Benny sighed. “No, she’s mad.”

“Why? What’d you do?” Johnny inquired.

Benny wanted to argue in his own defense but shrugged. “She’s upset that I had to run off her date.”

“She had a date?”

“Mh-hm, church-going fellow.” Benny lit his cigarette, taking a long drag of it before continuing, “Caught him before she knew he was there.”

“Did ya kill him or somethin’?” Corky’s eyes widened.

“Nah, just had a talk with him,” Benny clarified as he stood from his lawn chair, moving to look out the bay door. “He was late to their date anyway and . . . I just wanted to have a talk with him, see what kind of man he was. And I didn’t like what I saw.” He was one of those men who pretended to be something he’s not, who perfected the craft of lying to people – especially women. And Benny didn’t have any respect for liars.

“Okay, what’d you say to him then?” Johnny wondered.

“Just said ‘Are you willin’ to die for her?’ and he said yeah and then I asked if he was willin’ to kill for her because I was.” Benny recalled the twinge of fear in those eyes as he took a long drag of his cig. “And I think he got the message pretty loud and clear after that.”

Johnny and Cal shared a pointed look as a weighted silence followed Benny’s statement.

“Jesus, kid,” Wahoo murmured. “This girl’s really got you whipped.”

Benny really didn’t want to have this conversation with an audience. He came here in search of Johnny to seek out his advice, but now that he’d confessed to the group, he felt somewhat . . . smaller. He’d never been one to struggle with his confidence, to care what others thought of him. But the idea that you were upset with him, that maybe you didn’t want him anymore, that maybe he’d ruined his luck with you before he’d even had a taste, well, that just struck Benny deep in his chest. It made his fist clench tightly at his side, made his heart beat a little faster.

Suddenly, Johnny was beside him, hand clapping his shoulder in a friendly manner. “Well, if that’s what made ‘em run away, then it sounds like he was no good anyway.”

Benny remained silent, picturing the sight of you walking away from him last night, choosing to walk home in the dark rather than let him drive you back.

“So, she’s mad at you for that?”

Benny nodded.

Johnny shrugged. “Let me tell ya a little somethin’ about women; they may be the same species as us but they ain’t the same creature. They don’t think like you and I. When we see somethin’ that needs said or done, we just do it. But they’re more . . . compassionate, empathetic. She probably feels bad for that poor asshole. Probably just wants ya to apologize to him.”

Benny wanted to roll his eyes. He knew all of this. He wasn’t an idiot. “Well, I told her I wasn’t apologizing for it.”

Groaning sounded behind him and Benny clenched his jaw defensively. “I’m not. I can’t apologize for somethin’ I don’t feel sorry for. I don’t regret runnin’ him off and I'd do it again if I have to.” Though if he needed to do it again, he’d probably not openly tell you again.

“Then you’re goin’ to have to find another way to get back into her good graces, kid.” Johnny shook his head and Benny thought he saw a hint of a smile in his face as he turned away. "You'll think of somethin'."

******

You’d changed your clothes three times before you gave up and just decided to wear the same thing you’d worn to your breakfast date with Pete. Could it be classified as a date? You weren’t even sure where you stood with him now. He seemed to fall back into his usual demeanor, but that was always so closed-off anyway. But so was your father, you supposed. You could see that in the way he’d sit at the head of the table, face hidden behind his newspaper. It was obvious in the way your mother repeated herself over and over again in an attempt to be heard. It was apparent when he was absent during all your years of school accomplishments. That was the normal. It seemed unfair to expect Pete to be any different.

So you went downstairs, packed up your cake (one you had made special for the charity) in the cooler and hopped on your bicycle. The ride to the church wasn’t far but it gave you more time to consider Pete as you waved to neighbors you passed. Though you actively tried to avoid it, you mind drifted to thoughts of Benny. Was he the type of person to wave to neighbors? What kind of neighborhood did he even live in?

By the time you showed up to the church, the event was in full swing. You parked your bike in the rack and carried your cooler through the tents and booths set up, smiling at friends as you went. You found the pastor's wife who directed you to the bake sale booth where there were a couple other girls already setting up.

“What’ve you got there?” one of the older women asked as you approached, setting your cooler down on the table.

“A cake.” you grinned as you pulled out the cake, setting it on the display. You had gotten up extra early today to get started on the desert, knowing the congregation was counting on you to supply the design. The inspiration for the design – admittedly taken from a certain biker who you would not be thinking about anymore – was a a field of brightly colored flowers surrounding the base with a family of tiny bunnies to decorate the top. You were pretty proud of it and to hear the ooo’s and ahh’s of the ladies surrounding you boosted your confidence. They set out a donation jar in front of your display and people began to filter by your booth to admire the goods and to grab a free brownie made by one of the other girls at the table. As the event went on and the sun shifted overhead, you thanked the donors and smiled for pictures, all the while your eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to find Pete close by.

When there was a pause in the flow of foot traffic, you took the time to crouch below the table to replenish the paper plates when a deep, familiar voice broke through your concentration.

“Got anymore of your famous cookies?”

You looked up, gaze locking with the ocean blue eyes of none other than Benny Cross.

You gasped and stood up so quickly you nearly knocked your head on the corner of the table. He was staring unabashedly at you, even being so bold as to roam his eyes down your figure and you suddenly wished you had changed into something a little more formal. Ironic, you thought, considering Benny was anything but formal.

His gaze moved from you down to the cake on the table and his brows raised. “You make this, Little Bunny?”

You swallowed, ignoring the rush of butterflies at the nickname. “Mh-hm.”

He bent down to inspect it closer, hands pressing to his knees and you can’t look away. You couldn’t look away from the cerulean gaze beneath a wall of lashes. You couldn’t look away from the slope of his nose nor the quirk of his mouth as he hummed a sound that came deep in his throat. And no, you couldn’t look away as your gaze traveled down his signature denim jacket to the exposed tanned skin of his arms, the muscle tone enough to make your eyes widen. You certainly didn’t want to look away from his hands over his knee as a flash of heat filled your core at the thought of his hands encasing your own knee.

Benny’s eyes flashed back up to meet yours. “You’re incredible.”

You nearly melted at his words, face heating up and you had to break his intense eye contact.

He stood back to his full height. “If it tastes half as good as it looks, I think I might be in trouble.”

There he goes again with those damn double innuendos. You started to smile but then you remembered you were still mad at him, that you weren’t supposed to be happy to see him or to hear his flirty voice. “You already are in trouble, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Benny grinned sheepishly. “I still gotta do somethin’ about that, don’t I?”

You raised your brow at him as you crossed your arms trying to look more confident than you felt. “You don’t have to do anything, Benny. It’s a free country.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “But it’s what you want me to do, right? Apologize to ‘em?”

“No, he . . . wouldn’t like that,” you admitted, “I don’t think that’d be a very good idea to involve him anymore.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “Then I guess I’ll just have to win you over again.”

“Who said you won me over a first time?” You challenged, standing up a little straighter.

Benny just grinned, a shit-eating grin that you weren’t sure if you wanted to smack or kiss off his face. You watched as he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. He slipped out a five dollar bill between two of his dexterous fingers and dropped it into your donations jar.

“See ya around, kid,” he said with a wink before turning and leaving you standing there wide-eyed and fighting a smile.

-Tag List-

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#idk if motorcycles have radiator hoses lol #austin butler #benny cross #benny x bunny #the bikeriders #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #benny x reader #imagine #austin butler fandom #austin bulter x you #the bikeriders fanfiction #johnny davis #tom hardy

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dollfacefantasy · 9 months

Text

Restless Dreams

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets home late after another hard day at work to you having some extra sweet dreams.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, wet dream

word count: 3.6k

a/n: hey everyone!! hope you all enjoy this :) i guess i've been into soft leon with somno lately idk LOL. i was kind of tired myself when writing/editing this, so forgive any errors pretty please. new divider from here. thank you for any comments and reblogs <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

“So what time do you think you’re gonna get here?” you ask before blowing on the drying polish that coats your nails.

“My shift finishes up at 12, and then I gotta file some reports. I’ll probably be done at 1, so not too long after that,” Leon explains through the phone. Despite his attempt to lay it out for you, there’s still a pause, one he came to recognize as your reaction of displeasure. A smile plays on his lips. “But you know the real answer is as soon as I can.”

You look down at your phone on your vanity, a pout forming on your face. Obviously, it wasn’t his fault he had to work so much now. He’d warned you when he started at the police station a few months ago, but it didn’t prepare you for how much you’d miss him.

It made you feel dumb, that nagging, achy feeling of longing in your chest. It wasn’t like he was off to war or something. You still saw him almost everyday. But more and more of his time was consumed by work now. Even when he was with you, he was often exhausted.

Sometimes all you could think about his new job was that he was your boyfriend, not theirs. You’d mentally scold yourself for being so immature when that happened, but the sentiment still lingered in your head.

“Ok…” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. He hears the dejection in your tone though.

“Baby,” he coos in that voice that sent warmth through your spine and got you to agree with everything he said, “You know I’d rather be with you. I’m just new and have to take the time to learn. Plus, with the caseload and the number of officers here, they need me at the station.”

“I need you more,” you say. You try to pass it off as playfulness, but it comes from real feelings. Your heart was beginning to tense with resentment for the RPD for taking him away so much. You knew the job meant a lot to him though which is why you would never unleash your admittedly petty frustrations.

A low laugh leaves him, and you can hear that loving smirk on his face as his voice comes through your phone’s speaker.

“Do you now? You’re really missing me that much?” he teases, leaning back in the driver’s seat of his cruiser.

He knew that you did in fact miss him that much. And even though, since starting at the police station, he tried to project the image of a tough guy, he missed you just as much. That’s why he started calling you during lulls in his shift.

“Mhm. It’s not fair. It’s like I’m sharing you with the station. And I don’t like sharing,” you say with an exaggerated huff.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” he chuckles. He sighs happily, checking the time to calculate how much time was left before he could have you in his arms again. “But not much longer, baby. Then you get me all to yourself for the whole weekend.”

“I better,” you grumble with a smile.

“I promise you will,” he says genuinely. A light on his dashboard flickers, alerting him that his attention is needed elsewhere. “Just don’t stay up too late waiting for me tonight, ok? Your rest is important.”

“Seeing you is more important,” you respond.

“I know, but I prefer my girl when she’s not all cranky and sleep deprived. So try tonight, sweetheart. For me?” he asks.

“I guess,” you concede. Your heart already aches, knowing he’s about to hang up.

“I love you, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too,” you tell him before he disconnects the call.

The silence that falls over your room makes it feel even more empty. You tap the glass screen of your phone, scanning for the time before you finish getting ready for bed. Your mouth curves downward when the numbers light up on the screen.

Only 10:30. Too much time till you’ll hear him come through your front door, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. You haphazardly go through the rest of your routine before dragging yourself over to your bed and getting in.

Sliding between the soft pink sheets, you flop down against your pillow and stare at the ceiling as you contemplate how to kill the time. Nothing grabs your interest because none of it’s him. It’s all just filler.

And worst of all, you were starting to feel sleepy. You wanted to wait up for Leon so badly, but you also went through a whole day of your own that tired you out. Plus, your bed was just so comfy with your plush blankets and full pillows, stuffed animals and frilly decorative cushions scattered on one side.

Thinking it would help to keep your eyes actively focused on something, you try to read. Your eyes scan over the words, and it isn’t long before you realize you’d made a horrible mistake. Moving your eyes along the page only made them more drowsy.

Next you turn on the tv and put on something you didn’t really have to pay attention to. But the soft glow of the tv casts across you and the low chatter of the characters becomes background noise, making it even harder for you to keep your eyes open.

You lazily reach across your bed and grab the bunny stuffie Leon had bought for you a few weeks prior. Tucking it beneath your chin and close to your chest, your drooping eyes fall shut and your breaths become soft and even. Barely any time has gone by before you’re sinking into slumber.

Leon glances down at his phone, the small numbers illuminating 2:04 in the darkness of the hallway. He enters your place with the key you gave him and shuts the door as quietly as possible. He knows you’re sleeping from seeing the dark bedroom. Already feeling guilty for taking longer than he’d expected, he didn’t want to add to that feeling by waking you up.

He makes his way to your room, padding silently down the hall. Once he reaches the door, he pushes it open with almost no force in an attempt to avoid even the slightest creak. You’re where he expected you to be, curled up in your bed, completely peaceful as you slept. He knew he probably looked like a little lovesick puppy right about now, eager to hop into bed and snuggle up to your side, but he didn’t care.

It takes him no time to shed his police uniform. He makes quick work of unlacing his boots and kicking them off. His pants and shirt crumple up at the foot of your bed next to his belt and socks. Finally, once he’s got on a pair of sweatpants he kept at your place, he climbs into bed with you.

He shoves your stuffies and extra pillows out of his way with a playful roll of his eyes and gets as close to you as he can. His arm drapes over you, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, planting a few kisses on the base of your head. You smelled so good, felt so soft, perfect to come home to.

His body melts into the mattress, and he’s ready to give into his own urges to sleep. That is until he notices you’re not as peaceful as you appeared from the doorway. His eyebrows raise as he feels your legs squirming. Restless movements from your feet beneath the covers and your thighs shifting aimlessly against each other.

He’s ready to brush it off at first. ‘Must just be having some wild dreams,’ he thinks with another kiss to your head. But then he hears the faintest sound, so quiet that he probably would have missed it had he been focused on anything else. It’s a whimper. A gentle, tender squeak that slips from between your lips into the cool air of your bedroom.

Now, his face conveys his concern. He worries you’re having a nightmare. That at any moment you’ll wake up with tears in your eyes and your heart pounding out of your chest. Immediately, he begins stroking your arm, kissing your temple, murmuring “It’s ok, baby. I’m here.”

But you make that little noise again, and this time it paints a different picture in Leon’s head. This whimper didn’t sound scared or stressed, like you were crying out for his protection. No, this sound brought to mind images of you writhing beneath him, nails marking his biceps with small crescents as he pumped himself in and out of you.

He shakes his head because that couldn’t be it. That’s just his horny mind creating things that aren’t there from being so pent up.

At least that’s what he tells himself until you make the noise again. It brings the same memories up, but this time he’s even more sure of it. He lifts his head off of yours to look down at you and try to figure out what to do next.

You look so cute, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted. As he brushes some hair from your face, he notices your fingers clutching your stuffed rabbit a little tighter. Your breath hitches for a moment before you let out a soft, sleepy whine of his name.

It’s unmistakable now what’s going on. He smirks and traces a finger over your lips. The pad of his index finger drags on your bottom lip slightly, turning your mouth into that pout he loved so much. He leans and kisses your cheek as you whine again.

“Please.”

He chuckles at how needy you sound even in your sleep, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your shorts.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your panties. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit. Clearly, this dream was a pretty good one.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

In your dreams, Leon was doing a lot more than rubbing you with his fingers. After you had fallen asleep, it felt like no time had passed. All of the sudden you were just on the table in your dining room, spread out for his rapture.

You didn’t realize you were dreaming, everything felt so real. To you, he was really there, looking down at you with those loving yet lecherous eyes. Hands roaming your exposed body, lips caressing your skin all over. Everything seemed light and airy while also feeling heavy and thick. Your head, filled with clouds, slipped in and out of the moment. The sensation of him rutting his cock between your thighs and sliding inside of you was your reality at the moment.

In actual reality, Leon continues to move his fingers slowly, swiping them over your entrance and taking them back up to circle your clit. You mewl when he applies some pressure, sending sparks through you. Your squirming becomes more motivated, and he can tell your drifting away from your restful sleep back toward consciousness.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You hear his voice in your dreams. The deep rumble enters your ears as you envision his hips pistoning into your wanting cunt. You mumble something in response, but he can’t understand the sleepy babbling. He rubs your clit a little harder with some more speed. You twitch in response, yet your eyes remain closed.

“I know, baby. I know it feels so good,” he coos and kisses behind your ear.

More incoherent words fall from your mouth. He sucks love bites into your neck, and you tilt your head back, craving more of that feeling. The dream version of him began mimicking the actions of the real Leon as you neared waking.

Whining louder, your fingers dig into the smooth fur of your plush bunny before letting it go. He nips at the sensitive skin of your throat as his fingers travel down and push inside your heat.

The feeling rips a moan from you and causes your eyes to open. Your back arches as he works them deeper. Your hips wriggle a little as you make sense of what’s happening.

“Leon?” you whimper. Your sleepy eyes struggle to stay open after being torn from the fog of sleep.

“That’s right, baby. It’s just me. You were having some nice dreams, weren’t you, pretty girl?” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum mindlessly.

“About me?” he teases, eyes watching your body fidget with the pleasure you felt.

“About you,” you confirm before he leans down and kisses your lips. They were so soft against his own. He slowly moves his mouth with yours and languidly slides his tongue against yours.

You moan into the kiss as his fingers curl within you and hit your favorite spot. Your feet lightly kick at the sensation. Your hips rise a little as you feel the flood gates holding your release about to break.

You’re too sleepy to tell him out right, but he knows the signs. He keeps working you there until your body seizes and arches off the bed. You let out a throaty moan and turn your head to bury your face against his shoulder.

“There you go. Let it all out, sweetheart,” he whispers and kisses your head.

You ride out the high on his hand, and by the time you’re done, you’re ready to fall asleep again. Your mind is hazy with the fog of release. You’re drifting off as your body settles without even realizing it.

You’re only yanked back to reality by Leon scooping you up into his lap. He’s sitting with his back to the headboard, and he situates you between his thighs, back against his chest. His arms keep you caged in nice and close, safe and warm.

“Don’t fall asleep again just yet, babydoll,” he murmurs while kissing up your neck.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder. The fight to stay awake gets a little easier as his hand returns to your soaked panties. He doesn’t tease this time, just slides in two fingers and starts moving them in and out.

The new angle makes you squirm and whine, but he holds you tight in place with his free arm.

“Gotta work you open, honey. Can’t just slide my dick in you with no warm up,” he says with a smirk.

His voice pulls you towards lucidity a little more. Your hands wrap around his free arm for support while your hips instinctively roll into his blissful touch.

“I missed you,” you choke out between gasps and whimpers.

“I know you did,” he teases, grinning against your throat. His cock throbs against the small of your back as his ears latch onto the sound of your slick around his fingers. “Came home to cuddle with my sweet girl, and I find her having such dirty dreams.”

Your cheeks heat up as you start to piece together what had happened. You fully realize now that your escapade on the kitchen table was entirely in your mind. You feel embarrassed for a moment, but the feeling dies pretty quick as you rapidly approach the edge for a second time.

“Not my fault,” you whimper shyly.

He chuckles and kisses your temple once more. “I know it’s not. If anything, it’s mine. I think I’ve been neglecting my baby,” he says with a mocking lilt in his voice.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

“Good girl,” he coos, “That’s it, just one more and then I can put you to sleep how you deserve.”

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Leon lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how his training had been paying off. Maybe this new job wasn’t all bad.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

“So wet. I can just slide right in,” he mumbles as his own hips twitch.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

He follows along and rests his face against your neck as he begins thrusting. You hear him panting right in your ear. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there’ll be marks.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

You nod lazily as you continue to clamp down around him. After two releases, you didn’t even feel a building ecstasy anymore, just a constant stream of pleasure.

“Leon,” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

“Wanna be sore after, don’t you, sweetheart? Want a reminder of me while I’m at work. Something to tide you over till I can do this again. Won’t have to rely on dreams then, right?” he says.

“Yeah,” you whimper. Your bed creaks as he picks up the pace, but your moans mask the sound as they grow in volume.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Ready for another one, honey? Gonna be the last one and then we’ll get you comfy and off to sleep.”

“Yeah,” you moan again, unable to say much else.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

“So sweet to me, baby. I hope that made up for the late night,” he whispers and strokes your hair.

“It did,” you say with a nod. Your eyes were already shutting again, ready to go back to sleep after being fucked so good.

He looks at you with all the love in the world as he pulls his sweats up. He then helps you pull your panties and shirt back on, trying to laugh at your sleepy, half-assed movements.

After that, he gets you all tucked in next to him, snuggled up in his arms like he originally intended. He even grabs that stuffed bunny he got you and fits it close to you in case you want it.

“Get some rest, honey. You need it,” he whispers while rubbing your back.

“Mhm,” you respond tiredly, “You too. You’re all mine for the weekend, and I don’t want you tired out the whole time.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna be tired out if we do some more of that again tomorrow,” he jokes. He pulls you close to him and shuts his eyes, nestling his head against yours and settling in to rest.

That puts a smile on your face and you nuzzle him once more before letting yourself fall asleep for the night.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

2K notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

Text

Play, Sleep, Repeat

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're Katie's cousin

Katie has never quite understood you.

You'd always been on the fringes of her awareness.

She has all her siblings. Her close family is big. Her extended family is even bigger.

You're her cousin, on her mother's side.

She'd never really kept up with your life. She'd see you at family reunions maybe once, twice a year and it would all be a quick conversation before she moved on.

She'd never been close enough to her uncle, your dad, to really know what was going on the two of your lives. All she really remembers was that his wife (your mother) had left him and he was a single dad.

It was surprising to see the Arsenal announcement photo with you smiling at the camera, a big Ireland flag draped over your shoulders.

It should have made her feel bad that you didn't drop a text to say you were signing but Katie didn't even know you played football until the announcement so she decided that she didn't really have room to have her feelings hurt over it.

She had hoped this would be the opportunity for you both to grow closer but, as she looks at you now, horsing down your lunch, she kind of thought that was a pipe dream.

You get up immediately after finishing, avoiding the table with the other younger players and heading back out onto the pitch.

It was like clockwork with you. You were either crashed out asleep in the break room, eating like you'd been starved or practicing for hours before or after training.

"What's up with your cousin, McCabe?" Leah asks, watching you leave as well," She never hangs around."

Katie shrugs. "I dunno. She's always been like that, I think."

"You think?"

"She's being raised by her Da. I guess she's never been around this many girls in her life."

"Surely she played on a girl's team before coming here."

Katie shrugs again.

"You don't know?"

"I've got a big family, Williamson. I hardly see her back home. Sue me for not stalking her every move."

Kim slides into the seat next to her. "I'm worried about her," She says," She's always here early and she stays late too. I've never seen her Dad pick her up."

"So what? She's a big girl."

Kim raises a brow. "I wasn't worried because she promised me that you've been dropping her off."

"What? She told me Kyra was doing that."

Kim sighs. "I got her address off Jonas. Do you and Caitlin mind popping by tonight? I'd do it myself but she might respond better to you."

Katie stands at your door a few hours after training has finished. She'd been waiting in her car for a while now, unable to believe her eyes when you'd stepped off the bus barely ten minutes ago still in your training kit.

Her hand hovers over the door, unmoving.

Caitlin nudges her to the side, pressing the doorbell.

"Hey," She says when you open it," Can we come in?"

Your eyes dart to the side. "Er..."

"Is your Da in? I need to talk to him."

"Da's busy," You say.

"That's okay. We can wait." Katie barges in and Caitlin follows her before you can stop them.

"How long will he be?" Caitlin asks and your eyes dart to the door.

"Well..."

"Have you had dinner yet?" Katie asks," 'Cause your fridge is bare."

"Stop it!" You say, pushing her out of your kitchen," Stop snooping!"

"Are these takeout boxes?"

"Katie, I mean it! Out!"

"Nah, where's your Da? Surely, he can't be letting you eat all this crap."

You mumble a response that Katie forces you to repeat. A response that gets regurgitated to every responsible adult on the team.

Your Da didn't come with you to England. In fact, your Da hadn't even be to one of your Arsenal matches.

"He'll come when I make it into the Ireland squad," You'd told Katie and Caitlin," He promised."

The team keeps a close eye on you. Your back prickles with awareness and every time you look behind you, someone is watching.

Things change as well, slowly but surely. It's enough to put you on edge.

It starts with Caitlin and Katie driving you to practice. You usually leave hours ahead of when training starts so you can get the bus and still have time to practice before it begins.

(Maybe if you have a bit extra training then Gleeson will have no choice but to call you up for the next international break).

You have no idea how long they've been camping in their car because you get up stupidly early.

They bundle you in with them. They grab breakfast at a quaint place in town before getting you to training on time.

Next comes Kim. She sits with you at lunch and talks to you enough that you finish the same time as everyone else.

Leah helps you with your kit.

Lia sits with you on the bus.

Lessi, Vic and Kyra splash you with water during the changeover at training.

Beth lets you nap against her and Viv makes sure you have a protein shake ready for you when you wake up.

Slowly but surely, you're folded into the team that is Arsenal. You existed on the fringes of life in London, focused on nothing but finally having your father support you in football.

Now though, you have the team to celebrate your goals with. You have Katie shaking you with joy when you score the last minute winner against Everton.

You also have the text from your Da nitpicking your every move in the match.

You feel lucky that he even kept the match on with how shit you were apparently making. A few months ago, you would have gone back to your own habits. A few months ago, you would have ran until your legs gave out.

But it's no longer a few months ago.

So, you just put your phone away and let Steph ruffle your hair on the way back to her seat.

You're actually part of the team now. A key part of the team if you go off how many times you've started a match.

A key part of the time if you go by how you seamlessly tackle Cuthbert and send the ball rolling straight to Caitlin to collect. You're about to stand up but Cuthbert can't stay on her feet and she stumbles, falling with a sickening crunch onto your ankle.

The scream you let out is guttural and you push her off you to grab at your ankle, as if touching it would suddenly make it feel better.

You slap the ground with your fist and scream again. Leah comes sliding in next to you, pinning your ankle to the ground with a firm hand.

"I know," She says," I know but we need to keep it still. Just stay still."

"Leah," You sob," It hurts!"

"I know," She repeats," The physios are coming straight on. Just keep it still."

Katie comes running to you next, tucking your face into her chest as you sob, shielding you from the fans.

Caitlin has taken her job at yelling at the ref, desperate to get some kind of compensation even if it was all a complete reaction.

"I...I..." You manage to get out through your tears," I don't think Gleeson's going to call me up for the break."

Lia, who had gently removed your cleat, laughs. "You don't need to focus on that right now." She peals your sock down. "But it's nice that you've still got your sense of humour."

You hiss as someone else touches your ankle.

"Hey!" Katie snaps," Careful with her!" She turns back to you. "Can you walk?"

"I don't even think I can stand up."

"You're going to be okay," She says as the stretcher is brought on," They'll fit you with a boot and you'll come back to mine."

You groan. "God, not your place."

"What's wrong with my mine?!"

"You can't cook! Can I go to Kim's instead?"

"I think I preferred it when we didn't talk."

You grin. "Didn't your Ma ever tell you lying's bad?"

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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cosmic-expressions · 4 months

Text

⋮ ♯; ⤷ hypnotized .ᐟ

i can't escape you, i'm hypnotized ―୨୧⋆˚

dan heng x fem!reader; smut, fluff, no plot; first time, emotional, awkward, a bit vanilla(?); multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, missionary, cowgirl; needy & whiney dan heng agenda; unprotected sex (but wrap it up irl); praise, marking, pet names, groping and touching and in general lots of smooching; overstimulation if you squint;

wc: 4.4k

a/n: hello on a new acc and idk what else to say except prepare for lots of nasty thoughts in the future. peace out. and quick taglist: @kuniihoonii @hoonieswhore (sorry if you didn't want to, I thought you'd like some more dan heng content by yours truly)

the night isn't so early, but it's not extremely late either; or at least you think so, since it's kind of hard to tell time while traveling through space.

but despite that, you're not sleepy; it's actually surprising because you're laying on the pile of bedsheets dan heng calls his bed. granted, the pile is comfortable... sometimes too comfortable, but a proper mattress wouldn't hurt... especially wouldn't hurt his back. and yours, by the way.

prepped on your elbows, you're laying on your stomach with legs up in the air, wiggling them back and forth, while you read a random novel you found in the pits of the archives. you had no idea the bookshelves would contain normal books, let alone such a genre: erotica.

despite its lack of logic or laws of physics, the plot is surprisingly good... or at least good enough to kill the boredom that's washing over you. the silence, at first calming and comforting, soon became too loud, as loud as silence can get. especially when one misses their beloved.

sighing, you close the book and look around the room again. dimly lit, enough to read comfortably, seems... empty. well, no wonder why, because there's only you in there. but usually... usually, even at such hour, dan heng is back, rummaging through the piles of sacred and not texts, books, and other papers he sorts. even if he's quiet, no music is playing, it's still not complete silence. the sheets of paper sweetly swoosh over each other, the pen smoothly traces letters, and the overall atmosphere is... comforting. but without him, no matter how many books you'll go through just to make some noise, it's still empty.

"here you are..."

when dan heng sees you on his... so-called bed, he can't help but sigh in relief. something about seeing you so comfortable in his room makes his heart flutter, even if it's him who had to get comfortable with this. when he lets you in in his little cave, you're a part of it; it's not his room without you around.

"where else should i be?" you frown slightly, confused by his words, features softening the second you hear his melodic voice.

"in my arms, obviously."

you laugh in disbelief, not expecting such a cheesy line from him. but when you see how one corner of his lips curves millimeters up in a snug expression, you can guess he was taking lessons from march and caelus.

"then come here. i've been waiting for you..." you throw the book aside and roll on your side with open arms. that smile of yours, one who could fight the sun with its brightness and warmth, is enough for him to cave in.

but he stops when he notices the title of the book you were reading.

he averts his gaze immediately, but the way his ears redden tell you everything. it wasn't a book from the express's archives. it was from his own collection.

you say nothing; instead, you cuddle with dan heng, limbs tangled and bodies squeezed together in a tight embrace. the moment is serene for a second, with your bodies tangled together and warming each other, being vulnerable and protective at the same time. with closed eyes, both of you relish in this moment of silence; not the empty one, but loud, loud, and intense with all the feelings you two have for each other.

dan heng tries, he really does; he doesn't want to put silent pressure on you, so he bottles up all the need for you. it gets to the point where every single one of his nerves is on fire, every muscle gets tense, and his body gets really warm. warm to the point that even you can feel it.

"is it about that book?"

"what?" he's doomed. he's so over. he's so-

"i know it's a book from your collection. but i don't know why you read such stuff... do you gather intel for... our first time?"

your giggle is cute and innocent, but dan heng can't take it anymore. he's intoxicated by you, swooned over you... straight-up horny for you and he can't keep it in his pants any longer.

"yes." he breathes out, heart thumping in his chest like a ticking bomb. taking a deep breath doesn't help him one bit, and when you look at him with lustful sparkles in your big, lovely eyes while you speak... he feels physical pain.

"are you ready, then? i know i am."

apparently, dan heng wasn't the brightest one, because all the signs, all the teasing you treated him with, were not enough for him to notice. but now it's the time. and both of you know that.

maybe he is horny to the point where he's like a ticking bomb, but he's still a clueless gentleman. his lips clash with yours, intertwining in a slow yet passionate manner while he lays you down on the sheets. your hands cupping his face, the soft skin of your palms, and the sweet taste of your lips make dan heng breath even heavier, coming in ragged pants.

he wants you so bad; to taste you, explore you, praise and worship you, just like you deserve. dan heng never caught feelings that caliber for anyone but you, and this? this is testing his limits. he's so close to cumming in his pants at the mere thought of your naked body, and yet here he is, hands under your t-shirt, reaching for the hem to take it off. he's excited, he's needy, he's so eager; aeons, he loves you so much. and he wants to show you how much he loves you.

"d-dan heng... give me a second."

your voice rips him out of his thoughts. then he realizes your top is off; you're left in a bra and shorts, while he's still fully dressed. that is not fair, he thinks.

"i'll- i'll take mine off, too-" he trails off, reaching for the zippers, quickly getting out of the upper part of his clothing.

"that's not- that wasn't the matter, but- thank you nonetheless," you chuckle and breathe heavily, the sight of your boyfriend's torso, making you only more aroused. trying to reassure yourself, you smile at him softly, hesitating a little to say anything.

"i love you. i love you so much. you know that, right? there's no one else for me but you."

you almost tear up; it's the first time he said it out loud. he told you at the beginning that it's hard for him, and yet... here he is. vulnerable with his emotions, ready to be vulnerable with you.

dan heng is fully aware of how this moment affects you; how it must be hard to feel so... exposed after years of trying to cover up. yes, he's in literal pain still, but he's ready to take it slow and eventually fuck his fist rather than hurt you in any way.

the way his eyes glimmer in the dim light, how they sparkle and glow with nothing but love and devotion while he speaks... that's it. you know he's not lying. you know he's genuine with you, and that he's ready to sacrifice himself for you...

you unclasp your bra and put it aside, getting rid of your shorts too. and when he notices the confidence, love, and commitment, he unzips his pants in seconds.

"may i- kiss you again?" dan heng breathes out, looking you in the eyes and getting lost in them immediately. when you grab his face in your palms and kiss him with urgency he never felt from you, he gives in.

"touch me. everywhere you want, but not there, yet."

"your wish is my command, princess," he mutters back, kissing you again and moving one of his hands to your waist, caressing the soft skin and curves of your body.

you feel his leaking cock against your thigh and by aeons, is it intoxicating. the thoughts to jump on him and fuck him until you pass out are loud, but, surprisingly, you can compose yourself for now. just savor this moment, feel it, and prepare by the way, you say to yourself.

and aeons, do you feel things.

his hands, big yet calloused, touch you so gently, almost as if it's a little fluffy cloud tickling your skin. he continues to spread his warmth across your body, placing his hands everywhere he can; waist, hips, thighs, belly – you name it, he touches it. but he doesn't dare to even think about touching your pussy yet, even if he feels how wet it already is.

dan heng growls quietly, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on yours with eyes closed, trying to compose himself again. it's hard, with his thoughts racing and spiraling down to his cock, he can't do this anymore, the battles persists and he's not the bravest soldier...

"dan heng? dan heng, can you look at-"

"no, i- i can't. i'm losing control already and- admiring your beauty like that is too much- i'll go to the bathroom and-"

"dan heng!"

the slight bonk you give his head with your hand gets him out of his thoughts, and he finally looks at you with the pain he's trying to suppress. you reassure him with a soft smile before continuing what you wanted to say.

"you can put it in... but slowly. you're- you're quite big and i'm not sure if it fits-"

"i'll make it fit, baby. it'll fit and it'll feel so good- but that's for another time."

the eagerness audible in his voice is adorable, making you chuckle and flustered. he kisses you lips again, exchanging saliva in such a needy and sloppy way. all you can do in such sudden moment is gasp and melt, letting his tongue explore your mouth.

you can feel how his cock is twitching in anticipation and need against your thigh, and the thought of finally feeling it inside makes you dizzy and wet; not in your wettest dreams you imagined his cock to be so... delightful.

"ready?" dan heng suddenly pulls away and breaks the kiss, looking into your eyes for consent. the way you stare at him with excitement, lust, and trust sends him into overdrive. he's not going bonkers thanks to the last thin strings of self-control.

"ready."

he almost drools and cums on the spot when he feels your dripping wet pussy. smearing the precum and your arousal over your entrance, dan heng lets out a few moans and whimpers; his cock is already so sensitive and the warmth of your folds inviting him almost make him cry.

"i love you so much, baby." he's mumbling into your ear while pushing his cock into your pussy, slowly but surely filling you up. the whimpers you two make mingle in the air, making a new sonata that's meant only for you, for this moment, never played again. this is it, this is the moment of pure bliss, where the usually closed heart of your boyfriend is pouring out all the love he has for you. only for you.

dan heng groans and whimpers in suffering, trying his best not to push himself all in at once. he breathes in and out, warm air getting out of his lungs is tickling your neck and ear, making you even more aroused.

"more."

he stops existing for a second, taking in your word. it's only one word and yet it's like a spark to the dynamite of need inside him.

"i need- more of you, you feel so- good," you start babbling, also getting lost in the pleasure. the soft yet demanding stare you give him says a lot; you're sure of what you say, you're sure what you want, and you're sure you want him.

"just a second, baby- i want to stretch you, not rip you in two."

the quiet whine you let out makes him whimper and throb inside you. he's so close to cumming, so close to giving it up... but he needs to wait a little more.

he can't do that when you suddenly cup his face and place a set of sloppy kisses all over his lips and jaw, whimpering and moaning softly.

you relax further, the reactions you get out of him with your little teasing are so cute that you can't help and giggle softly. rolling your hips a little, you help him push his cock further, slowly stretching you in such a delicious way.

"baby, no- i'm gonna-!"

dan heng tries to stop you and your greedy pussy, but he's helpless when his cock is hugged by your tight, velvety walls. with closed eyes, he shudders and rests his forehead on your forehead while he cums, his cock twitching and painting your inner walls already.

"fuck- i'm sorry, baby," he starts, his body still shaking as he speaks. "i couldn't help it- it won't happen again, i promise, baby-"

"you may think i'm crazy or twisted, but i find it hot."

his skin is warm under your palms as you soothe his shoulders and arms, trying to calm him down. with his head still resting on your shoulder, dan heng pants and tries to catch his breath, kissing your skin softly.

"it happens. it's normal and it's fine. i didn't mind it," you continue to comfort him, your soft fingertips brushing over his skin. your breathing is steady, heart beats only a little faster in the excitement as you want him to breathe with you. and he does after a short while, his thoughts also halting to a stop. "if you want, we can stop it here-"

"no. i want to make you feel so good like you never felt before- i want to fuck you so good that you'll get wet when thinking about it again."

such a bold statement makes your eyes widen in surprise, especially when you can hear how determined he is for it to happen. your breath gets stuck in your lungs as you try to pry your inner whore away.

"as long as- as you'll be careful and loving... then i don't- i don't mind."

a consensus has been made between your voice of reason and inner whore, both sides getting what they want; a good and sweet lovemaking session with the only man that there is for you.

dan heng chuckles and lifts his head, looking you in the eyes with undying devotion and utmost adoration as he seeks the confirmation in your stare. seeing your flushed skin, body shivering in anticipation, and lips slightly parted, he doesn't need to be told twice. placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he rests his own on yours and stares right into you eyes, stare piercing right into your soul.

"i'll make you feel so good, baby- you'll feel amazing, i promise-" he continues his ramblings, at this rate getting delirious at the mere thought of how cute you'll look when cumming around him and because of him.

his cock slides out and inside you again with ease, stretching and filling your tight pussy to the brim, knocking the air out of your lungs. gasping and moaning, you reach for his hand, needing to hold it through the whole session.

you two are so needy for each other's body, soul, mind, and heart and it's showing in every little move. dan heng quickly intertwines your hand with his, holding it gently yet in a firm grip. you put your other palm at the back of his head, and with fingers fidgeting with his hair, you pull him closer for a heated and full of devotion kiss.

he's waiting patiently for your walls to adjust to his size, but when they squeeze him so deliciously, it's hard to resist. his kisses and touches get impatient, more needy, and more possessive. taking a handful of one of your breasts, he squeezes the soft flesh and brushes his fingers across you nipple just to tease you and elicit more of those cute sounds from you.

"f-fuck, dan heng-" you whimper softly right into his lips, the stretch being overwhelmingly amazing. your breathing is ragged and shaky, thoughts race out of your mind at the feeling of his cock inside you.

"baby, you're so- so tight, aeons-" he starts grunting and moaning, finally rolling his hips further into your core. "your pussy is so good i- i can't control myself anymore, baby-"

the heated kisses you two exchange while mingled together make you both even more sweaty, smell of sex filling the room, soaking into the walls, bedsheets, everywhere where it can, just to remind you later how fiery and passionate your love is.

dan heng explores your body further with his free hand, the warm palm hovering over your skin sets your senses aflame further. his soft touch is addicting, paired with his throbbing cock thrusting in and out of your pussy makes such a dangerous mix. his hand roams over your breasts, stomach, sides, everywhere he can reach. when he reaches your hips and thighs, you react immediately, making his heart flutter and mind fuzzy with excitement.

"you like being touched here?" he asks softly, fingers brushing over your thighs, from the inner part to the outer, up and down, repeat. you don't say anything, yet he knows the answer to his question right after; the way your pussy flutters around his length, how your legs shake, how you moan louder – all of it makes his head spin and causes a wicked grin to appear on his face.

you squeeze his hand and pull him closer, hand on the back of his head pulling him in for another sloppy kiss. but you trail off your lips to the side, kissing and licking your way from the corner of his lips to his jaw, neck, shoulder, and collarbone, leaving soft marks with almost every kiss. moaning into his skin, you nibble on the sensitive parts of his neck, the need to claim him and show everyone who he belongs to being too alluring to resist.

"oh, fuck-!" dan heng is not prepared for you marking him up but aeons does he love it. tilting his head to the side, he gives you easier access to all the places he wants- no, he needs- to be marked. his breath gets shallow and ragged, cock throbbing and pulsing inside you because of how much he loves this; the marks that he will show with pride, announcing to everyone that he's yours and yours only.

his quiet whimpers and moans sound so pretty, paired with the squelching noises of his cock pumping itself into your pussy give a lovely one-of-a-kind concerto meant only for the two of you; a concerto about desire, love, and trust, a tribute to love you two hold for each other.

"d-dan heng! ah-! you feel- so good- ah!" crying out in pleasure, you arch your back with a loud moan when the tip of his cock nudges at that one sweet spot, having you sob and scream his name further.

it's like the more you scream his name, the more dan heng goes insane. with his eyes closed, he's panting into your neck, sliding inside you with ease and need; he needs you to cream around him, he needs to feel your cum coating his already sensitive length, he needs to hear you more, even if your throat is already dry because of the constant screams.

"mmh- baby, you're doing so good for me, fuck- keep going, moan my name- you're such a good- good fucking girl-"

your thighs shake and squeeze around his waist while your hips stutter, your whole body being lit on fire when you cum, gushing around him and squeezing his cock deeper inside. crying out, your whole body stiffens as you lose control, pussy throbbing, creaming, and milking him with need of his load.

seeing you like this, body flushed, pleasure written all over your face, with one hand holding his and the other one gripping the sheets... dan heng can't take it anymore. he's cumming right after, thick load after load filling your greedy little pussy up to the brim, as it milks his length further.

he rests his head in the crook of your neck, panting and smiling, placing soft and lazy kisses over your neck and shoulder. you still squeeze his hand, placing the other around him, soothing his back with your light and gentle touch. nuzzling your cheeks against his, you try to calm your labored breathing.

"mmm- you did so well, darling," dan heng muses quietly, finally lifting his head and looking at you, eyes full of love and adoration. he grips your hip softly, caressing your skin with his fingers. "are you tired, baby?"

"not that much," you answer, voice quiet and ragged with heavy breaths, as you try to calm down. the intensity of the moment got to you, and now you need a little more time to come back to your senses.

"then- can we go another round?"

you freeze, confused yet... enticed by the offer. you can feel how his cock is still hard, twitching and throbbing, waiting for you. aeons, it feels so good.

with one, swift motion, you pull him closer, kissing him with newly-found intensity, one he never imagined you could even feel for him, boring loser dan heng.

"let's go."

letting out a small chuckle of relief, dan heng looks at you for a second, admiring your sparkling eyes, flushed face, beautiful features. he can't help it; he dives in for another kiss, sloppy and messy, whimpering softly into your lips. the feeling of his breath on your face, how he tries to compose himself further, it's so extremely hot and tempting.

"are you really so needy? for me?" you tease him, knowing smirk glued to your face when dan heng pulls away for a second, his head quickly turning back to you, completely forgetting what he was looking for.

"y-yes..."

chuckling and cooing, you grab his chin, firmly but not strong enough to hurt; turning his red face to yours, lips millimeters away, you smirk again. as you look into his eyes, your fingers graze over his chin.

"do you want me to take care of you, then?"

his heart stops for a second, mind disappearing right after. with lips slightly parted, he's looking you in the eyes, stare hazed with desire devotion, and everything he's holding for you.

"yes, please."

quickly yet clumsily, you switch positions, with you now straddling his lap, dan heng sitting on his pile of blankets, staring at you with his pretty, pleading eyes. his hard cock nestled between your thighs is leaking precum again, the essence bubbling at the tip, smearing over your skin.

dan heng, the usually composed and collected archivist, is now getting putty in your hands, melting under you, mewling and whimpering for you to take care of him and his length that's aching for you. this mess of horny, insatiable, and devoted nerd that wasn't touched by anyone else is for you and you only. and it's an incredible sight.

"baby-" he's whining, quiet moans slipping past his slightly parted, swollen from all the kisses lips, covered in spit and sweat; the glistening and plump lips you love to devour.

"what is it?" your eyes wander from his lips to his slowly teary eyes, eyelashes sweetly batting the tears and sweat away; but it's his lips that's your weakness. in seconds if not less, you press a sweet yet passionate kiss, tongues dancing with each other as dan heng lets you devour his mouth, whimpering and almost cumming at the mere taste of your sweet lips.

"please, baby- i need you- i need you so bad," he's mumbling, whining and losing everything, ready to cry; all he needs is you and your sweet pussy, yet you keep it all away from him, like a big meanie!

he's kissing the corner of your lips, your cheeks, neck, everywhere he can reach, softly pecking your silky skin while maintaining eye contact, his big, puppy eyes pleading for you to ease his needs. "please baby, i need to- i need to be inside- i need your pussy so bad-"

"i got you, i got you-" you mumble out, needy for him as well. it's a rare occasion to have dan heng all for yourself, so you decide to use this opportunity.

slowly, you guide his tip inside your slick entrance, sucking him inside bit by bit. you need to take deep breaths to calm down and not straight-up impale yourself, but aeons, his cock just feels so good...

finally, you take his length all inside, moaning out loud with a little cry, his throbbing cock finally nestled deep where it belongs.

"mmh- fuck! d-dan heng, you feel- so good-" breathing out, you shiver and throw your head back, chest moving up and down rapidly as you try to continue breathing. with hands on his shoulders, you start to bounce on him, his cock easily sliding in and out as you ride both of your brains out.

you can't even focus on how pretty he looks in his fucked-out state, you yourself giving in to the pleasure. eyes rolled back, mouth parted – the stimulation and overall experience being quite intense, lots of emotions, need, and urgency make you two go non-verbal for a while; only deep panting and whimpers audible throughout the room.

"d-darling, oh fuck! so good-" dan heng lets out slurred words, eyes back in his skull as he starts to drool. quickly wiping his lips, he lets out another pretty moan, pulling your face closer to his own, and kissing you with urgency. his big hands, one on the back of your head and the other one on your thigh, hold you with care, not pushing, not pulling that roughly. he's powerless, too vulnerable, and hazy with lust to even think.

with your pussy hugging his cock so tight he's close again, legs shaking and hips jerking up to meet yours mid-way. you're close too, body shaking slightly, jolts of pleasure coursing through you as you pick up your pace. the need washes over you two, mingling your bodies together as you stay nestled in each other's embrace, fucking your brains out and confessing all the pent-up emotions.

your whimpers, his moans, and screams of each other's name echo through the archives for few hours straight, as you two just can't get enough, ready to pass out then stop. the few short breaks you two take are long enough for yearning to build up again, the whole cycle repeating again.

thank aeons the rest of the crew was out, as march and caelus would complain for the next week again.

| MLIST | if you liked this piece, please reblog! 𓆩♡𓆪

@ cosmic-expressions / @ deka-dent 2024, do not repost pls

#dan heng #dan heng smut #dan heng x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #fics: dan heng #fics: honkai star rail

580 notes · View notes

elliesluckycharm · 11 months

Text

don't text me, ex ellie williams one shot

sinopse: you and ellie broke up due to her commitment issues and you've been non contact until she calls.

cw: lowercase intended, swearing and alcohol use and "drunk"? sex, semi public sex, not explicit if reader is fem or masc. use of nicknames like babe and my love.

wc: 2,9k

nsfw/smut: ellie bottoms. tit play (r receiving), clit stim and pinching (e receiving), fingering (e receiving), cum eating (r)... i think thats it?

a/n: okay uh im gonna kms bc this was meant for @breathinlove but alright.

you and ellie had broken up a few months ago. you have been no contact ever since, you blocked her everywhere except her number. you told her not to contact you if she didn't need anything.

but she'd called today.

you were in bed with your best friend kamala, she noticed you suddenly sitting up.

“what?” she touches your shoulder as you look at the screen. “ellie? don't pick up, y/n” she looks at the phone over your shoulder.

“i told her to only contact me if she needs anything…” you sigh, but the phone stops ringing and you bite your lip as you look at kamala, worried expression.

“hey, if she actually needs anything she'll either call again or text.” she pats your shoulder and you nod.

ellie doesn't call again, but you get a text.

«sorry about that, hope ur okay»

“um, i guess she didn't mean to call.” you roll your eyes after texting her back with a «don't worry, hope ur okay 2», which she saw and reacted with hearts.

“girl, yes she did, she let that thing ring for ages.” kamala scoffed.

“whatever kami, let's just forget about that. she's literally with cat.”

“it's insane that she broke up with you because she ‘couldn't be in a relationship’ and ‘felt trapped’ and now she's with cat.”

“i know but well, she just couldn't be in our relationship i guess.” you chuckle and hug kamala. “why are we still talking about this shit…?”

and then you drop this subject, and it was true… ellie broke up with you along those lines. she had met you at your house and held your hand, kissed your forehead before leaving. now, she has been going out with cat. you hadn't completely moved on but what's over it's over, you didn't want any messiness.

weeks pass by, you usually see ellie at college, you both curl your lips in an awkward smile. you do it out of respect but it hurts to act like you were never close.

today wasn't any different, film class and you're sat at the back. she got in late, she sat down at the front. you noticed her and followed her with your eyes but you didn't expect her to look around to the back of the class.

you lock eyes and she stares a little before turning back, you feel uneasy. class passed by and you don't interact in any way and you decide to talk to her after class.

she gets ready to leave and you run down the classes stairs to catch her.

“ellie.” you call out reaching for her shoulder but she turns around to face you before you can.

her green eyes pierce through yours, you hadn't seen those freckles from so close in months. you blink a few times in a roll.

“um… yeah? sorry i called.” her voice is raspy and she looks awkward, as if you don't know each other.

“you let the phone ring.” you mumble, her eyebrows almost touch as she looks confused.

“yes? i'm sorry.” she takes a step back as you do the same.

“so you meant to call. it wasn't a mistake?” you ask, you sound calmer.

“yeah, i did… but i know i shouldn't have, you did the right thing by not picking up.” she looks at your lips for a second before you curl them up in a sympathetic smile.

“i was going to. thought you might have needed something.” you hold your own shoulder. “you okay?”

“no, yeah… i'm okay i was just… i don't know.” she rambles awkwardly and you chuckle. “are… you okay?”

it felt weird talking to her, but she was still the same. she toyed with her fingers nervously as she always did.

“yeah, i am.” you breathed out before straightening your back. “what did you wanna say?”

“that, i've… been” she chokes on her words, you examine ber face, letting her speak. “thinking ‘bout you.” now it's your turn to internally choke.

“you don't need to tell me that.” you bite your lip as you start walking down the starts and she does the same as everyone's leaving the classroom.

she lowers her head to face her feet as she thinks of what to say but all she says is “i know.” you turn to face her after you leave the classroom.

“i'll see you” you say, she nods and leaves as you walk towards the bathroom.

your eyes water as soon as you enter the bathroom, you let out the breath you had been involuntarily holding. you decided this meant no contact was as rough as her as on you, even worse since she decided to call you at 3pm on a random saturday. but it didn't mean anything other than that, it's hard not to talk to someone you used to talk all the time and you understood that.

when you're walking to your next class you see cat running towards ellie and jesse. she kisses both of their cheeks and you wave to them, mostly jesse, who gives you a sympathetic look and waves back. cat doesn't see you until ellie raises her hand, cat waves at you then.

you and cat were neighbors during all your childhood, she was really nice, artistic, down to earth but still had a bubbly personality. you honestly liked her, which hurt.

kamala had texted you about this party next saturday at dina's, her cousin who ‘happened’ to be jesse's long term girlfriend and ellie's best friend. you, dina and kamala had been friends since the start of college and your breakup with ellie wouldn't change that.

ellie would obviously be there, so you decided to give it more than one thought. you didn't want to see her if it made you feel so small, but you couldn't stop doing what you usually do just to avoid her.

so you decided to go. you hadn't talked to dina that much about ellie to be honest, you didn't want this to become something where people had sides to take.

you and kamala go to the party a little later than supposed, the party was already crowded. you find dina and walk up to her to hug her.

“hey dina! nice party.” you hug her excitedly and she chuckles as she pats your back.

“it's a generic one, thanks though baby” she looks at you up and down as you back away. “you look good, girl.”

“you look hot, dee.” you smile wide and she gives you a gentle push towards her drink table. “go grab a drink, you too kamala!” she calls her cousin out.

kamala starts grabbing a drink but your eyes land on ellie, who was at the corner of the room. she saw you and stepped away from the wall she was leaning on.

“is ellie here with cat?” you ask dina as ellie walks up to you. dina nods no. “really?”

“yeah, they went out a few times but ellie said they were better off as friends…its been a while already” she shrugs.

“i see.” you tense up as ellie gets closer. “hey ellie.”

“what's up?” she smiles as she nodded at dina.

“nothing…” you shrug, your lower lip between your teeth and she clicks her tongue, staring you down.

“yeah umm, can we… maybe talk? i mean, i will text you?” she asks in a lower tone, you look around for nothing.

“sure, we can. what about?” dina had leave your side, and you were left alone with her and some strangers next to the wall.

“me. i miss you.” she breathes out and you squint your eyes. “i do. can we please talk?”

“didn't you feel trapped with me? in our relationship?” you scratch your forearm. she takes your hand off it and you look up at her.

“no, i felt trapped but it wasn't you who trapped me. you never limited me. i just wanted to get out a bit, try new things maybe.” you scoff and snap your hand from hers.

“you needed a break from me? to try out new things? like what…? cat?” you sound annoyed by all this now and she's quick to argue.

“no…no, y/n. i thought i did but… i still miss you alright? and cat… i thought could move on to something but i didn't”

“ellie, i'm sorry but… you can still move on. i'm… sorry it didn't work out with cat? but that has nothing to do with me.” you try to call down as she gulps and looks to the side.

“i'm sorry.” she mutters, she sounds embarrassed but she nods. “you're right. i can move on, i don't want to.”

“ellie, this is not the place for this but… yeah we can talk, i can text you.” you sigh and she nods.

“alright, text me when you can.” you nod and leave to find kamala.

you tell her about it and she says ellie is embarrassing herself and you can only say you feel bad but also annoyed by this behavior. you see ellie a few times during the party and you just smile at each other.

you definitely still love ellie, you do wish you had never broken up but it was her who did this and you didn't feel like you could get back together just like that. you'd let her say what she had to say, you respected her, but you didn't think this would end up in rekindling things.

you were dancing with kamala, a little drunk already, when you felt a little hot. you went into the kitchen to grab water. ellie was there, her hand on her forehead.

“hey…” she looks up, recognizing your shoes. she looked a little drunk herself, cheeks flushed. “are you okay?” she saw you stumble.

“yeah i'm fine actually, i have been drinking though, came for a water bottle.” you chuckle and she nods a little as she holds her own head. “who's driving you home?”

“ugh… actually… no one” she chuckles back and shoot her an worried look. “hey, don't worry i'll wait until i sober up a little, i know it was dumb but it's okay.”

“yeah… you better… drink some water maybe.” you walk up to her with another water bottle, she takes it and mumbles a ‘thank you’.

“i feel like the floor's kinda moving.” she looks up to you now.

“you're just light headed. and a lightweight.” you chuckle as you get closer to her.

“yeah right…” she laughs and looks at your lips as you get closer. “you smell nice.” she takes a huge sip out the water and grabs your hand pulling you closer, you let her.

“thank you, you look real good.” your drunken self speaks and she leans on your shoulder, you feel her breath against your neck, making your breath heavier.

“you've such pretty lips.” she mumbles as she lifts her head back up and her lips ghosts against yours. she holds you closer as you hold her arms.

your alcohol breaths fan eachother's lips and faces, you hands fall on her torso and she grabs your hips.

“i wanna kiss you.” you drop your face on the crook of her neck and you sigh. she puts her water bottle down on the marble you were both leaned against only to cup your face, making you face her again.

“you know i'll kiss you back.” and you kiss her, liquor tasting kiss as your tongue pass through her lips.

she moans when you do, holding you so close your leg ends in the middle of hers. you're now running your hand up and down her torso and hip. her arms wrapped around you.

“needed this.” she groans and your grab her hair tightly.

“i need you.” you reply, kissing her deeply. she moans again, her hand finds your thigh and she lifts it.

“have me” she whispers in your ear. she's thrusting her hips as he holds your leg up by your thigh.

you make out feverishly, kisses your neck and you start panting and she grins against your neck. you felt your panties damp.

“bathroom?” you suggest as she starts shamelessly grinding her clothed pussy on your thigh. she nods frantically mumbling ‘please's as she lets go of your thigh and grabs your hand.

she pushes your body with her own, grabbing your waist to turn you around, her crotch against your ass as she walks you to the bathroom.

“don't trip, babe.” she jokes and kisses your neck.

“make sure you don't either, my love.” you giggle and now she's next to you. you look at eachother.

her cheeks are flushed pink and you smile at her, she opens the bathroom door and you get in. she kisses you now, grabbing your ass.

“i want you so bad, y/n. please.” she kisses your neck and you push her back. “what?”

“block the door.” you kiss her as her back hits the door, her hand is running up and down your back and around your hips. “missed you so fucking much.” you nibble her neck and she moans.

“i missed you, this. i need you right now” her hands go up your shirt and she sounds needy as fuck, grinding poorly on your hips. your hands find her stomach. “it's been too fucking long.”

you can feel your clit throb as she talks to you. you suck her earlobe and she grinds even more.

“so eager…” she pinches your nipple when you tease her, you whine out and she kisses you again.

“take this off, babe.” she says, tugging your shirt and you do what she tells you to. she goes in on your tits immediately. “yeah? you like that?” she asks as she nibbles the skin before sucking your nipple.

you moan and whimper holding her hair, she only stops when she feels your fingers tugging her belt.

“let me touch you.” you ask, she quickly unlatches her belt and you unzip her pants.

“i can't do this anymore…” she tilts her head back and you give her what she wants, tugging her jeans down.

you cup her pussy over her boxers and she moans, head hitting your shoulder.

“wet and warm, huh?” you whisper and she starts kissing you again. groping your tits with one hand and the other on your back.

your fingers ghost her slit, but you start caressing her inner thigh and hips, opening her legs. she grunts and starts trying to grind her pussy on your hand, which makes you press her hips against the door.

“stay still, now, alright? i'll get to it… promise.” you mumble, enjoying her body and how eager she was.

she nods, now grabbing your ass and thighs. you kiss her cheek and tug her panties to the side

“good girl” she grunts when your fingers run over her sticky slit. she was soaked in her slick.

you tease her clit and entrance with your fingertips, she moans and tried to grind against you.

“fuck, be quick with it.” she grunts and you frown. “please.” you slide two fingers into her pussy when she pleads. she gasps and grips your hair, taking your lips in a sloppy kiss.

she grinds her clit against your hand as you thrust your fingers in and out at the perfect pace she never stopped thinking about.

“more.” she moans between kisses.

“more what?” you start rubbing her clit with your other hand. “this?” she moans and nods.

“yeah… thanks.” you chuckle as she thanks you, kissing her neck again.

you look up at her eyes closed and cheeks flushed pink, her hands moving from your back to your shoulders. you speed up as you look at her.

you get the vision you wanted, her closed eyes squint, broken pants leave her open lips… you moan at the sight and the feeling of her wet pussy clenching around your fingers and her legs shaking, threatening to close around your hand.

“oh… you feel so good ellie, fuck.” you pinch her clit and she moans louder “yeah, keep those legs open for me.”

she cries out as she nods, her pussy clenching hard when you moan seeing her cry.

“please i'm so close.” she grunts through gritted teeth. “don't stop.”

“relax, you're so tight…” her stomach tenses and she relaxes and you reach deeper. “god…” you moan.

she moans non stop and her legs shake even more as she cums all over your fingers. you fuck her slowly as she comes down from her orgasm, hand leaving her clit.

you're both panting and she holds you by your back as you take your fingers out of her pussy only to look down and see her creamy cum on your fingertips and around her entrance. your pussy throbs at the sight.

you weakly get on your knees, sucking her cum off your fingers to lick the cum on her pussy. she grips your shoulders.

“you're so good to me.” she mumbles as you get up, tugging her boxers and pants up.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x you #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie x masc reader #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #tlou #sub!ellie

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kumkaniudaku · 4 days

Text

Stay A While (3)

Summary: Terry get's a lesson in love and shares it with Patrice.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 5,049

Part: 3 of ??

Warnings: Smut (18+)

One. Two.

"Well, James, how you been?"

"Honestly, Pop. I don't know where to start."

Wooden spoons banged and scraped across pots on the stove while Marvin scooped red beans and rice into a small ceramic bowl. He'd long shed his work coveralls for an open flannel shirt and khakis to spend some quality time with his only son.

James was their shared middle name in a long line of Richmond men dating back to their family migration from New Orleans to Fayetteville in the 50s. Marvin was a proud, honorable man. He never said a bad word about anybody, and no one had a bad word to say about him. He taught Terry how to play football, make a pot of dirty rice to perfection, and the importance of ensuring a lady never touched a doorhandle in his presence. He was the reason Terry joined the Marine Corps after a career in the NFL looked unlikely. He was the reason his boy spoke softly and carried a big stick. And he was one of only two people Terry trusted with his heart.

With two bowls and spoons on a serving tray, Marvin made his way to the kitchen table. He stopped short to get a good look at his son with blue green eyes even more captivating than Terry's. He noted the new frown lines developing on his brow and the lone grey hair sprouting in his goatee. His boy was stressed and confused. He didn't need a conversation to tell him that but welcomed it anyway.

After sliding one bowl across the table, he took a seat with his signature grunt. "Start at the top. Plenty of time still left in the day."

Terry quietly thanked his father for his generosity and avoided the question by eating the first bite of his meal. They ate in silence for several seconds until Terry took a deep breath.

"I think I've been okay. More ups than downs lately, but the downs are pretty damn low. I'm having a tough time sleeping. I'm barely working. I feel like a burden for Treece more than I feel like a man who can actually do something for her."

"Being a man is about more than what you can do."

"Yeah, but…" Terry trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just - things weren't supposed to be this hard. I gave this country a lot of my time, and I guess I expected to say my goodbyes and roll into my next chapter. Now, my plan b needs a plan b, and I'm out of options."

"You're not out of options. You don't like askin' for help. Proud like your grandaddy."

"And you too."

Marvin chuckled and shook his head as he took another spoonful of food. "This ain't about me."

The two men shared a laugh, their voices sounding nearly identical as they bounced off the walls. He was the spitting image of his father, both in stature and moral compass.

"What do you need, James?" Marvin had grown serious again, making Terry avert his eyes to focus on his food. "I'll save you the stress of asking, but you gotta tell me what I need to offer. Is it money?"

"Not much. Enough to pay some bills until the end of the month, and I can have it back to you. I think I have a shot at this job on base if I can get through the second interview."

"How you getting back and forth? I know y'all do the Lyft and Ubom thing these days. Ridin' around with strangers like we didn't spend a whole decade tell y'all not to."

Terry laughed. "It's Uber, Pop. But, no. Treece is out for the summer, so I'm…using her car when I need it. I don't wanna take advantage of her."

"Those some of the bills you need help paying?" Marvin's question was answered with a silent head nod and eyes filled with shame. He softened his voice as he reached into his wallet for the cash he had on hand. "It's what you're supposed to do. Ain't no shame. That money is for yourself. Give me til tomorrow afternoon to have more. Five grand enough?"

"Ah, Pop, I don-"

"We didn't work as hard as we did for nothing. Plus, it's your college fund money we never withdrew. You're lucky your mother hasn't used it for renovations. She's been eyeing your sister's old room for an indoor she-shed or whatever the hell it's called."

Marvin sounded exasperated by the concept of his wife's latest project, which amused Terry. They hadn't changed since the day he left. They were just two people who had been in love since the day they met and remained committed to supporting each other through the ebbs and flows of life.

Standing from the kitchen table, Marvin shuffled around the corner to the garage entrance and returned with a ring of keys and a pile of mail. He tossed them at Terry and returned to his seat.

"What's this?"

"Keys to GMC outside. Take it. You might need to run it for a little bit and change the oil, but it works fine. The rest is your mail." Terry opened his mouth to protest and received a glare from his father in return. "I gave you my best speech about askin' for help, and here you go ruining things. Take the truck before I tell your mama."

"Alright, alright," Terry laughed as he raised his hands. "I love you, Pop."

"Love you, man. I'm proud of you." Not ones for the warm fuzzies of hugs, the two extended their arms across the table for a quick fist bump before returning to their meals. Marvin let his son eat in peace for a few moments before the corner of his lips curled in a knowing smile. "So…Patrice Ellis, huh? That little love letter you wrote in 10th grade finally coming true?"

"Pop."

"Ah, come on. It's alright to be in love, son. She's a good girl. Got good folks, too. What's the holdup?"

In love? The more Terry attempted to negotiate the gravity of the phrase within himself, the more he had to reckon with the idea that his father may not be that far off base.

Terry slowed his eating and looked at his father for help. "You think I'm in love?"

"Oh, I know you are. You didn't come back to Fayetteville for me, did you?"

"How would I know, though? How did you know?"

Marvin stopped eating to sit back in his chair. A fond smile crossed his face as he thought of his younger years.

"I knew I was in love when I wanted to show up every day and do the work to be with her. It didn't matter if she pissed me off or if we disagreed about decisions. At the end of every day, I can look at her and know I'm where I want to be forever. Plus, I still get a little fired up when she walks through the door all these years later. I ain't much to look at, but your mother is…"

Marvin let his sentence drop to whistle at the mention of his wife. Terry pretended to take exception but eventually laughed at his father's antics. He quickly relaxed into a contemplative state.

"I wanna be the best I can for her," he spoke softly. "I get…sad when she's gone for too long. Sometimes, I find myself forcing conversation just to make her look at me because the light in her eyes is the only thing keeping me grounded most days. What does that mean?"

"You don't need me to answer that, son. Go with what you know."

Before Terry could seek more advice, the mechanical roar of the garage door made Marvin nearly spring out of his seat to greet his one true love.

Outside, Patrice was nearly doubled over from laughter in the front seat.

Diedra "DeeDee" Richmond was the quintessential Southern black woman. Like a prim and proper belle, she wore her color-treated blonde hair big to match an even bigger personality. She wore heels with every outfit and never left the house without earrings, but she could also drink and cuss like a sailor.

When she offered Patrice the chance to tag along for her monthly Sister Circle meeting, there was no chance she'd miss the opportunity to ditch Terry and kick it with the upper crust of Black women.

"And, girl, Rita thinks we can't tell that she took every one of those appetizers out of the damn freezer section. At least go to the Publix bakery. Finger sandwiches ain't that expensive."

Amid their gossip session, the garage door's chime caught Dee Dee's attention, effectively ending her one-woman show in favor of giving her husband the eye. Behind him, Terry stood with a nervous smile and puppy dog eyes that he directed at Patrice.

"Marry a Richmond, child. You'll never lift a finger for the rest of your life. Lord knows I love me some him. Hey, baby!" DeeDee advised as she watched Marvin nearly float to the driver's side to open her door.

Patrice watched Marvin and DeeDee fawn over each other like teenage lovers until the faint pop of her door opening brought her back to life.

Terry stood in the gap with his hand out to offer assistance. She accepted without protest, letting him gently pull her from the passenger side with her bags in tow and close the door behind her.

"I missed you."

Terry's admission came in a sweet voice as he dipped his head to place two chaste kisses on Patrice's lips. Only the knowledge of his parents 10 feet away kept her from turning an innocent display of affection into something vulgar.

Patrice chased his lips once he pulled away, earning a deep chuckle that vibrated her chest.

"We kissing in front of the parents now?"

"Too much," he asked, suddenly embarrassed.

She used her thumb to wipe lip gloss from his bottom lip before rising to her tip toes to kiss his nose. "No. You're perfect."

Dee Dee and Marvin watched the young couple giggle at nothing in particular with broad smiles and full hearts.

"Treece, when's the last time you had some of my red beans and rice?"

Marvin's question made both of them jump like children caught in the act with the realization that they weren't alone.

"Way too long," Patrice answered, her stomach almost growling at the mention.

"Then have dinner with us. We'd love to have you."

Patrice looked toward Terry for confirmation, making Dee Dee cackle as she started up the stairs into her home. "Child, forget him. Terrence don't run nothing 'round here! Come get this food."

Terry's eyes grew wide at his mother's dismissal while Patrice dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at his expense on her way into the house.

"Oh, that's funny," he asked, following her lead. "That's the last time I let y'all hang out unsupervised."

Three extra hours at Terry's parents' house wasn't enough for the tandem to abandon their new night routine.

Patrice stood at her bathroom sink, scrubbing the day from her face while Terry made himself comfortable on her closed toilet lid. Sometimes, he read something from Patrice's bookshelf, both preferring to simply exist in the same room. Other times, he watched baseball on his phone and attempted to provide color commentary despite Patrice not showing interest. This time, though, he sat with relaxed shoulders and low eyes while she moved through her beauty routine.

Something about the sleepytime body wash had him laser-focused on how her legs looked a mile long beneath her nightshirt, oiled to perfection and glistening under the warm vanity lights. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Maybe pull her closer by her thighs and whisper every single nasty thought on his mind below her navel until she promised never to leave his side.

But, he shook his inner man loose and leaned forward to re-engage with her as she called his name.

"You know you should use a gentle exfoliant every once in a while. It'll help your breakouts. Use some of my sunscreen, too. It's dangerous for you to let the sun hit your face with no protection."

Blah, blah, blah. Everything she said sounded like a chorus of 1000 angels to him. She could've revealed the cure to cancer, and he would be too lovestruck to notice.

Knowing his restraint was dwindling, he stood abruptly and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn as she added moisturizer to her face.

Patrice watched him take up space behind her through the mirror, shifting so he could leave something to remember him by on her shoulder and neck.

"Good night," he spoke between kisses, the words muffled against her skin.

"Already? It's not that late, is it?"

"I promised Corey I'd help him with football practice at Francis tomorrow morning."

"He'll run you ragged if you don't speak up."

"I'll speak up. I promise."

Using what little space she had, Patrice turned to rest her backside on the counter and face Terry. She used her index finger to hook his gold herringbone chain and bring him down for a kiss. Or kisses. It'd been so long since they could have each other in this way. Time and experience, both together and separately, had them maneuvering like professionals. Each kiss was teasing and sensual in equal measure. A tangible mastery of retreating and aggression made the pursuit of one another worth the wait.

They'd lost track of their exhibition until Terry's phone buzzing against the toilet seat jolted them back into reality.

Patrice flattened her palms against his chest to create some separation and end what would surely turn into blurred lines if they weren't careful. "Good night, TJ. Grab that exfoliant out of my shower before you leave. It's in the caddie."

Terry took the gentle redirection in stride, smiling at her through the mirror before turning to do as she had asked. Patrice used what little focus she could muster to secure her headscarf to her head, desperate to extend her box braids for one more week.

"What's this?"

"What's what?" She didn't bother to look away from her task until the low hum of her vibrator caught her attention. She whipped her body around, too stunned to reach for the bright pink toy that had Terry smirking as he examined its buttons. "That is my personal property for personal and private use."

"When's the last time you used it?"

"It's been a while. A month or so." Mostly true. She couldn't say she hadn't thought about it more recently.

"Since I've been here?"

She shrugged. "Kinda hard to get comfortable when there's a person on the other side of the wall."

The mere sound of the only thing to touch her in two years made the hair on her arms stand at attention. Her eyes darted between the toy and Terry, who made himself familiar with each speed and pattern, cycling through dirty thoughts and intrigue as he held the device against his arm to get a feel for the intensity,

Setting one? Bearable. A softball. Setting three? Maybe she'd call out his name from the pleasure? Setting seven? Surely, she'd hang on to him like a wet t-shirt on a Playboy model while she rode the crest of her orgasm.

The possibilities excited him to no end. He needed to test each and every theory.

In two clicks, he returned the toy to its original setting and then off completely, holding it in one hand while taking slow steps to close the gap between him and the only person on his mind.

She shifted her weight nervously as he approached, unsure how to respond until he towered over her with a look she knew all too well.

Desire.

Their senses were heightened. Everything felt surreal, almost as if one misstep could send them flying through a portal back to a more disappointing reality.

Terry could smell the faint hint of mint on Patrice's breath before dipping his head to nip at her bottom lip with his teeth. She responded like he knew she would by making him work for his prize. Patrice never let him intimidate her. Not for their first time together all those years ago, certainly not now.

He chuckled before leaning in again, this time leaving a trail of short kisses from her jaw to her clavicle. He inhaled deeply, breathing in vanilla and the subtle spice of his cologne from moments earlier.

Suddenly, Patrice felt weightless. Her feet dangled briefly and without warning as Terry took her from standing to sitting on the cold, hard counter before she could protest.

Patrice fought for stability, using the peaks and valleys across the expanse of his muscled arms as her anchor in the dizzying experience that was his affection. Her lips parted to draw in sharp breaths and release airy sighs of approval in a feeble attempt to remain present. At the same time, he kissed his appreciation wherever his lips saw fit. Her legs acted under their own power to spread wider and make room for whatever came next.

Her hands left a trail of tingles as she dragged them from his arms to the back of his head, down the sides of his face, over his tank top, between his pecs, and, finally, into the waistband of his shorts.

Surprised by her touch, he lurched forward to grab her wrist. "Not this time," he whispered, unsure he meant what he was saying.

Patrice nodded in understanding, earning a sloppy kiss for her obedience.

There was no discerning where his mouth ended, and hers began. They were on one accord, hungrily tasting, exploring, and consuming each other without holding back.

Then, the low hum returned. This time, it was closer than Patrice remembered.

Cold silicone soon caressed her inner thigh. A low whimper escaped past her lips as she made eye contact with Terry. He leaned close enough to speak against her mouth.

"You trust me?"

"Mhmm," she answered, fighting to keep her eyes open as he moved further up her leg.

"Let me take care of you, then. Take these off for me."

Trembling fingers latched onto her boyshorts, pushing them to mid-thigh for Terry to take care of the rest. As quickly as he was gone, he'd returned for another taste of her tongue. Languid and unhurried, he used the time to relax her while slowly inching the vibrator to her center.

Initial contact made her hips buck forward, and her head softly hit the mirror behind her. Terry chased her with sloppy kisses at the base of her neck.

The slow and steady setting was enough to get her wet and sticky. Terry'd be lying if he said the thought alone didn't have him wanting to renege on his early statement and dive in with reckless abandon. But, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of her pleasure.

Once the initial shock had worn off, Patrice ground her hips slowly, making small circles while the vibration worked to settle her nerves. Terry took a break from leaving praises in the form of kisses on her throat to smile at his girl.

"You're beautiful. You know that?"

She gripped his chin and pulled him closer for a fiery kiss that he let her lead. "Yeah. But, I love to hear you say it."

"Good," he answered, grinning at her confidence as he upped the intensity on her vibrator. Her eyes clamped shut as her entire body tensed. "Stay with me."

A deep, steadying breath turned into a silent scream as Patrice gave in to the natural urge to hold her breath. Terry used his free hand to sneak up her tank top and grope one breast while pressing his lips to her ear.

"Breathe, baby. In and out." He modeled the behavior until she found the strength to match his tempo. "There you go. You feel good?"

"Yes, yes," she whisper-chanted to the ceiling, her head thrown back in unimaginable euphoria.

"I want you to feel this good every day. You deserve it, right?"

A twisting, turning feeling at the pit of her stomach forced her to draw in a deep breath to steady herself. Her answer came in a soft moan. "Right."

"Damn right." Pressing his forehead to hers, he zeroed in on each of her features twisted in unthinkable pleasure.

She kept her mouth open to sigh and moan as she saw fit. Her nostrils flared in a rhythm as she tried to force herself to breathe through every peak and valley of the moment. Her brows were knitted, and her eyes closed as if she were too afraid to look at him. He wondered what she was thinking.

Did she want him inside of her as much as he wanted the same for himself? Was she yearning for more pressure? Could she feel how much he loved her?

"Don't get quiet on me. I want everything. Let 'em hear you. You need more?"

A quick glance down helped him reposition the vibrator on her already sensitive bud, earning a guttural curse as appreciation for his good deed.

"Fuck! Don't move. Please don't move."

Terry obliged for the moment, too entranced by his view of her flower on full display for his viewing pleasure. Glistening. Wet. Beautiful. Appetizing like nothing he'd ever seen before. He pulled the toy away and replaced its presence with his thumb. Slow circles and firm pressure made her want to close her legs to escape the overwhelming stimulation, but her attempt was futile. She was at his mercy.

"Damn," he whispered to himself, enamored by the way her body reacted to his touch.

Every revolution around her clit brought with it more wetness at her entrance and indentations in his arms from her nails gripping for dear life.

It wasn't enough to touch her. He needed to taste.

Using his middle and ring fingers, he teased his introduction with gentle brushes against her inner lips. She keened for more against his mouth as she held his face close. He granted her wish and pushed into her slowly, immediately feeling her warmth envelop his long digits.

Their mouths hung open, breaths being traded between the two as he set a slow pace. Not enough to bring forth a release. Just enough for Terry to get what he came for.

Removing his fingers left him with a coating of clear arousal nearly dripping to his knuckles. Patrice watched him as he smirked at the sight, examining it like a jeweler appraising precious diamonds.

When he'd seen enough, he put both fingers into his mouth and closed his eyes to savor the taste. Patrice's mouth hung open as if waiting for her turn to experience the wonders of her juices.

Had she closed her eyes for even a second, she would have missed Terry extending his tongue from his mouth to allow a mixture of his saliva and her essence the chance to slide from his tongue in anticipation of a new host.

Something profound and hungry within her made her lean her head back and hold her tongue out to receive all that he had to give. It excited her, delighted her, and aroused her like never before.

Like a lewd work of art, spit connected their tongues in what would otherwise be seen as an infraction among more proper circles. But fuckin' wasn't proper, and all forms of affection were welcomed in their home.

Almost immediately, Terry rushed to reward her with a wild and frenzied kiss that nearly surprised him.

Primal. Carnal. Intense. Fucking disgusting. He loved every minute of it.

The race was on. Terry kept their lips connected as he returned the vibrator to her clit, dialing up the settings to a level below their max.

Patrice's moans and his couldn't be distinguished from one another. Her hips bucked wildly. Her fingernails left marks in their wake as they scratched at his arms and back. Her body twitched and seized in anticipation of the inevitable.

"Oh my - fuck!" Satisfied tears slid from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks to her man's awaiting lips. "Terrence!"

Terry remained locked in. A man possessed. A one-track mind focused on nothing other than completing the mission.

The first stage of her orgasm came without a warning. Heat washed over her as if she'd stepped outside at high noon, making her skin almost unbearable to live in. Her toes curled, her voice caught in her throat despite the intense desire to release a scream from the depths of her soul into the atmosphere.

She thanked Terry and God in Heaven for blessing her with the opportunity to touch the moon and the stars without ever leaving her home. Terry used his free hand to grip and massage her thighs, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Patrice's voice began to climb as the main event approached. Shallow breaths gave way to loud gasps for air, which came rapidly while she did the same. She was suspended in a beautiful bliss and already sad about the prospect of coming down.

Her lover reveled in the opportunity to see her unraveling at the seams.

"I'll always come back to you, beautiful. No matter what, okay? Look at me." His request earned intense focus from Patrice under hooded eyes. "You're so pretty. Say it back to me. Tell me you're pretty."

"I'm so pretty!" Impending release sent all her words out in one breathless sentence.

He smiled at her compliance. "I know you're close. Hold my hand."

Her fingers scrambled against the counter, filling the spaces between his fingers and gripping with enough force to turn her knuckles a lighter shade of brown.

"That's my girl. I love you," was all he could manage before Patrice let out something akin to a squeal, turning his declaration into background fodder.

Sensitive, overstimulated, and completely spent, the after-effects of her release had her panting to recover. Her ears rang with a heady feeling that could only be compared to a few puffs of homegrown bud.

Terry held her through it all, propping her up while her body sagged against him for stability. He put aside the vibrator to run his palms up and down her legs while he showered her temple with whispered praises and sweet kisses.

He waited until her breathing was even before gingerly pressing his forehead to hers. "You good?"

His smirk was incredibly smug. He was proud of himself, and for good reason. She was open to giving credit where credit was due.

"You can never leave this house without me again. I hope you're happy."

"That's the whole point. My granny taught me some things during them summers down in New Orleans, you know?"

"Oh, so this is some magic shit?"

"Family business, baby. Gotta have the last name to find out." A playful glint in his eyes and a squeeze to her waist made Patrice's stomach feel butterflies that she thought would never return. Terry tapped her nose with his index finger and stepped back. "Stay put. I'll clean you up."

Patrice scoffed. Stay put. As if she could go anywhere. As if she wanted to go anywhere.

Like the perfect gentleman, Terry was tender with his care. A warm towel to soothe sore muscles and ensure a thorough cleanup was mandatory. The extra loving was complimentary for only his favorite lady.

"Stay with me tonight," Patrice requested as he slid her panties back up her legs.

He shook his head and smiled while prompting her to lift her hips. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Treecey."

"I just wanna be next to you. Nothing more."

Terry regarded her doe-eyed plea with a small smile as he helped her off the counter. He pulled her into an embrace, fiending for one more kiss. She obliged happily until he'd had his fill.

His hands slid from her sides to her ass for a generous squeeze before answering.

"Okay. Whatever you want. Let me handle something real quick, and then I'll meet you there."

Patrice accepted her victory with a silly happy dance before turning to make enough room in her bed for an extra person. Terry sent her on her way with a light tap to her ass, amused by how something as simple as sleeping next to each other was exciting for her.

Once she was safely out of the bathroom with the door shut behind her, he finally found time to take a deep breath and compose himself. The actual test of his strength was in the next room, and he couldn't risk the trust he'd worked so hard to build.

After adjusting his shorts, he picked up his phone and sat on the toilet lid, hoping that watching dog videos or Nationals highlights would clear his mind.

He had every intention of opening the web browser on his phone until he noticed a series of messages from an old friend.

From: McBride

You check your mail?

Trial against chief starts in two weeks. Gonna need you to testify to take him down

Know you said you weren’t coming back

Do it for Mike

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @deja-r

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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