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ethan-torchio-angelo · 3 years ago

Text

Oh, love

Summary: It takes a year of trial and error, of love and heartbreak, for the two to finally realize there's no one else they'd rather be with. Or in which she becomes they're photographer for a summer tour and falls in love with the dark haired drummer.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: swearing, angst, sexual content

A/N: I just want to say a huge thank you to @ethanesimp for proofreading and hyping this fic up, thank you so much amore! This is the first piece I've written for any of the members of maneskin, and also the longest thing I've ever written! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

January

It’s a call in the middle of the day that begins it all. She’s been in a shoot all morning, running around snapping photos of a wanna-be teen idol. She’s been here many times, being hired to do promo shots for someone who never makes it farther than this. But this call, she knows it’s different. She’s heard the name, seen some videos, she knows this won’t be like the rest. She’s instructed to clear her schedule for the week and to be in Rome by the end of the day.

The cold air hits her as she leaves the building, suitcase and camera bag in hand. This is the moment she’s been waiting for since joining the company, the chance to become a permanent fixture instead of hopping from gig to gig. She’s told that they requested her specifically, that one of the band members saw her collection from a festival last summer and was dead set on booking her for their summer tour. It’s all new to her, the feeling of being the first choice and not second best. She barely hears anything that’s said on the plane by their manager, too busy trying not to freak out.

It’s only a few hours plane ride, but it feels like a lifetime. Thoughts run wild in her head as the seconds tick by, she can’t remember the last time she’d been this excited, or nervous, for something. She’s greeted by more people from their team as she steps off the plane, and is quickly ushered to the villa they’ve been staying in. She barely has time to process the beautiful new city she’s in before she’s hidden by walls of an even more beautiful place.

They give her time to relax and unpack, but clear instructions to not leave the property without security. Things have been crazy, she’s told, since their winning last year fans have become more clever with their tactics. She laughs at some of the stories, but heeds the warning all the same. She’s seen quite a few things that have shaken her to her core, so she knows to be careful and wary.

Music floats through the halls and into her room, the band practicing on the other side of the villa. The music fills her veins with a feeling she can’t quite place, but it’s a welcome humming that gets her blood pumping. She grabs her camera and follows the melodies, laughing at the jokes thrown around in english whenever someone messes up. She angles herself behind a corner just right where she can take pictures while still being hidden from the band.

Her heart races at the scene in front of her. It’s a family like she’s never seen. They all seem to orbit around each other, pushing and pulling each other into their atmospheres. She watches Victoria dance around the room, bass in hand, strumming the lines to an old song. Thomas lays on the floor with a notebook reading off words, Damiano repeating them as he draws on eyeliner. And Ethan, who sits at his drum set, twirling the drumsticks in his hand as he observes the scene before him.

She captures picture after picture of their dynamic, taking the most of Ethan, who seems to have a magnetic pull to him. She only pulls herself from the moment when she’s spotted. “Sai, qualcuno chiamerebbe questo strano comportamento.”

The words are warm against her ear, and she jumps at the unexpected presence. She turns around, laughing to hide her embarrassment, trying to translate the words in her head. She freezes when she sees it’s Ethan, trying to figure out when he slipped away from the rest of the group.

“Ah, niente italiano. Er, it’s unusual, what you are doing.”

Another nervous laugh leaves her lips, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be creepy. There’s something about the way the group is when no one is watching, it’s hard to ignore, it needed to be captured.”

He smiles at that. It’s soft and warm and she feels as if the world has stopped spinning. A song plays between their hearts as a silence falls over them. There’s a beauty about him that makes it hard to focus on anything but him.

A series of crashes followed by loud curses in Italian breaks the spell that they were under and Ethan pulls himself away from her to go and manage his friends. She uses this moment as an excuse to slip away and tour the rest of the house, ending in the kitchen where dinner is being prepared. She snaps a few photos of the chefs cooking, already envisioning the blog post they’ll go along with.

When everyone has made their way to the dining room a toast is made; to new adventures, to new friends, and to family. Sweet wine and light rain makes the time pass faster and the evening flows into night easily. The group parts only moments after midnight, long days ahead calling them to catch up on sleep now.

The month flows by with days and nights blurring together. It seems the studio is really the only place they call home, spending every waking moment in the room that houses their instruments. She stays with them through the long hours, snapping photos of the weird things they get themselves up to. Her hard drive slowly fills with collections of each band member, ones for the public eye and ones she sends to them to make them laugh.

The end of the month brings a party, something small to celebrate sold out tour dates. A night out to a local bar and far too many drinks. She dances with Victoria, who has become her best friend in the few weeks she’s been with them. Damiano and his girlfriend are not far away, but much more caught up in their own world. Thomas has disappeared somewhere, no doubt warming someone's bed for the night. But through all the commotion, she can’t stop watching Ethan.

He’s sitting at a table nursing the only drink he’s had that night, planning to take on the role of babysitter at the end of the night once everyones had too much to drink. He drums his fingers on the table, following the beat of each song that plays. He seems lost in his own world, content with being by himself. She moves away from Victoria, who easily finds another partner, and makes her way to the table.

“Sembri solo,” the words fall from her lips quietly as she takes a seat beside him.

He smiles at her, “Seems your little lessons are paying off.”

She blushes at that, not realizing he’d picked up on her daily lessons with their English tutor. “Only enough to not seem like a tourist.”

A small chuckle escapes his lips, and she wishes she could bottle the sound.

“But don’t change the subject. Tonight was about having fun, celebrating a big accomplishment. Yet you’re sitting here alone.”

He sighs at her insistence, “Sometimes we don’t need to celebrate everything so publicly.”

Something pulls at her heart. She can’t imagine having such a public life, but she understands how it must feel to never have anything to yourself. Before she knows what she’s doing, she places a hand on his arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, a light tingle shooting between the two of them.

She pulls her hand away quickly, a small blush forming on both their cheeks. He offers her a small smile to make the moment less awkward, and she returns it.

The night ends not too much later, the rest of the crew having decided that warm beds would be much more comfortable than the crowded bar. She helps Ethan herd their friends home, laughing along with him at their drunken antics. Victoria jokingly calls them mom and dad as they help her to bed, and the blush that was plastered on her face earlier that night makes a second appearance.

It’s almost morning by the time she makes it to her own room. Ethan isn’t far behind her, realizing for the first time tonight that they share the same hallway. “Buona notte,” comes his voice from down the hall.

She turns to face him, catching herself stuck in his stare. She can’t quite place the look in his eyes, but it gives her butterflies all the same.

“Buona notte.”

February

February brings more time in the studio and less time outside the walls of the Villa. While winter in Rome is not like the ones you’d experience in colder places, it still brings a chill to her bones. She steals one of Victoria's sweaters after a night spent lounging under the stars, a small break from a busy schedule.

A fire had been lit and a bottle of sweet wine was making its way around the group. She’d set her camera aside for the evening, planning on enjoying a night without the calls of work. She doesn’t know when it happens, but suddenly she’s swaying to a drunken beat in the arms of Damiano who can’t stop giggling at her two left feet. The man had not believed her when she said she couldn’t dance, but was now biting his tongue as they moved around the courtyard.

As the night seemed to come to a lull, a game of truth or dare was proposed and all were in agreement. She finds herself sitting beside Thomas on the floor as Victoria begins the game, a stupid dare aimed towards Damiano that earns him a new haircut. The night drags on in a flurry of laughter and silly dares. By midnight half the group is wearing someone else’s clothes, and the others have barely any on.

She’s moved to be sitting by Ethan, who has an arm casually draped across her shoulder. It shouldn’t feel so electric, his skin touching hers, but it does and it’s the only thing she can focus on. Her heart feels like it’s almost beating out of her chest and the blush on her face isn’t caused by the alcohol in her system.

Damiano is the first to notice her situation, and starts poking fun at her whenever it was his turn to ask her something. It started off innocent enough, small questions aimed towards her love life, but it soon caught the attention of Thomas who was the first one to issue a dare towards the girl. This was how she’d ended up sitting beside Ethan, cuddled into his side. Ethan was oblivious to the things going on around them, until Victoria dared her to kiss him.

It seems as though time stops, the laughter fades and the silence becomes deafening. She turns towards Ethan, a mixture of panic and excitement painted on her face. He smiles at her, “We don’t have to, amore.”

“A dares a dare.” She shrugs at him.

A round of cheers raises up around them as the two lean in. It’s meant to be only a small peck, something good enough to count in the eyes of those around them. But as she goes to pull away his hand reaches up to tangle in her hair and he pulls her closer. Their lips meet again without any hesitation and it’s like the world lights up around them. Blame it on the alcohol, but if she were to die right now she’d be happy.

They pull away a second later, a small laugh leaving both of them, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm.

“Awe, they’re blushing! How cute!” Comes the voice of Damiano, further pulling a blush from the girl.

She grabs one of the pillows beside her and aims it at his head, laughing when she misses terribly.

The night fades into morning and they all climb to the roof to watch the sunrise. It’s a moment she wants tattooed in her memories forever. She’s got her arms wrapped around Victoria and the three boys huddle around them, alcohol still flows through their veins and they’re all singing different versions of the same song.

March

The beginning of spring in Rome is magical. Flowers start to bloom, mornings are coated in a light dusting of rain, and clothing starts to become less of a necessity. She takes photos of the band trapezing the streets. The Villa studio has become too familiar, moving instead to a studio in the city.

By now, a routine has been put in place. Mornings sipping coffee and eating fresh pastries while she laughs at the varying states of wake the band is in. Afternoons in the studio, recording their new album while she collects photos and videos for their ‘making of’. Evenings spent in restaurants and bars, eating some of the best food she’s ever had, and she swears she’ll never eat anything better.

She’s never fallen in love with a city like this before. Maybe it’s the city, or maybe it’s the people she’s with, but she swears she never wants to leave. It suffocates her in the best way possible, the feeling of being home. She hopes that when the tours over and her contracts up, that she’ll move here, maybe even keep these people she’s grown so close to in the past few months.

She’s thrown out of the daydream by Thomas yelling at her in a mix of italian and english for not paying attention. It’s the middle of the afternoon, they’ve taken a lunch break at a restaurant down the block, and Thomas is expressively telling a story. His hands are in the air and he’s almost knocked his wine glass over too many times to count.

Damiano sits across from her, fiddling with her camera, snapping his own photos that he presents to her proudly. She laughs at every one, but never discourages his actions. Victoria is on her left, Ethan on her right, both vying for her approval as they argue over something. She’s overwhelmed by the different directions her brain is being tugged, but the hand that snakes its way into hers calms her.

She looks down to see Ethan rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand, a soft smile grazing his lips as they make eye contact. She returns it, whispering a small thank you to the boy.

That night, she lays in bed, in the room she’s begun to finally call hers, thinking of the boy with stars in his eyes. She doesn’t know if it’s feeling like she finally belongs somewhere, or the wine that still coats her veins, but there’s something about him that she wishes she could become a part of. She wants to wrap herself in it and never leave. She’s falling for him, hard. Vaffanculo.

April

It is Victoria's birthday and everyone has decided that she must be princess for the day. Ethan and Damiano have been up since dawn making an extravagant breakfast, something that should be put in a five star restaurant. Her and Thomas had disappeared shortly after waking, returning with a stack of presents that was almost as tall as him, and the best bouquet of flowers she could find.

After decorating the patio with anything and everything they could find, it was a mad dash to Victoria's room to wake her up. She protested, claiming that sleep was more important than being awake, but at the mention of presents she was the first one out of the room.

It was a morning of happiness, and a much needed break from their hectic schedule. She recorded the entire day, from the dramatic wake up call to the celebratory sparklers that were set off that night, it was all captured.

After breakfast the princess requested a trip to the beach, and no one would dare refuse her. They found something private, a little hidden oasis an hour's drive from the villa. They spend hours there, switching between swimming and laying in the sun. She finds herself alone on the sand with Ethan at one point, watching the others like proud parents.

She tries not to think about how close his body feels to her, how she can feel the heat his body is radiating seeping into her, the smell of his body wash. He’s invading all of her senses and she’s trying so hard to focus on anything but him. “Let’s go on a walk?”

His voice is warm as the question escapes his lips. She turns to look at him and she’s thankful to be able to blame the sun for the blush on her cheeks. She nods and gets up to follow him, brushing off the sand that’s clinging to her bathing suit and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

They disappear down the beach, walking side by side, a comfortable silence enveloping them. It’s not till they’re halfway down the beach that either of them speaks. “Are you enjoying your time?”

She doesn’t miss the hint of worry that laces his voice, and she’s quick to reassure him that she is. “Yes, very much. This is probably the best job I’ve had in years.”

He softly chuckles at her words, “Good. Good. We’re trying to make you feel like one of us, don’t want you running away.”

She’s grateful for the confession, glad that they don’t see her as just another person that works for them. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

He bumps her shoulder with his, a small smile forming on his face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They head back to the group soon after, realizing they’ve let the day slip away and need to leave soon if they want to make their dinner reservations.

A small vineyard hidden in the valley, they’ve booked the place so it’s just them, and ordered every bottle of wine on the menu to taste. They laugh away the night, enjoying plates of delicious food and letting their minds wander. A gorgeous cake is brought out at the end, half of which ends up destroyed thanks to an impromptu food fight. More presents are opened and Victoria starts tearing up, blubbering about how much she loves the idiots she’s surrounded with.

They walk through the dark streets of Rome, singing happy birthday loudly in every language they know. It’s unusually cold, but she’s somehow been wrapped in Ethan’s jacket, his arm slung over her shoulder. She’s holding Vic’s hand, Damiano and Thomas taking turns with her camera.

The air surrounding them is electrified, she looks up into the sky and thanks the stars for the life she’s living.

May

The summer tour is fast approaching, and nerves are starting to set in. The already high energy group somehow is bouncing off the walls even more, making for an interesting collection of photos. Nerves are starting to get the better of them, and she often finds one of them wandering around the Villa at odd hours of the night. She’s good at being able to channel her nerves into something else, focusing all of the energy on a new project.

One night though, it gets the better of her. She tosses and turns in her bed for hours before she decides that sleep isn’t coming. Instead of lying in bed willing her brain to shut off, she throws on a pair of shoes and heads for the front door, thinking a walk in the warm spring air will do her some good. What she doesn’t expect to find is Ethan sitting out on the terrace, cigarette in one hand and a book in the other, lost in his own world.

She doesn’t mean to catch his attention, hoping to allow him this little bit of uninterrupted peace, but he spots her anyway. “Buona serata,” He rasps, voice laced with the quietness of the night.

“Buona serata, Ethan.” She returns the greeting.

He motions for her to sit down in the chair beside him, closing the book and placing it on the table. “What’s troubling your mind tonight?”

She’s not used to the way someone can read her so well, but there’s something about Ethan that brings her comfort in the fact that he can. “Nerves, I guess. I’ve never done a gig this big, never spent so much time with one group. I’m used to being moved around a lot, still getting used to being a permanent fixture I guess.”

The words are heavy on her tongue, never having voiced her worries out loud before. He takes a long drag of the cigarette hanging from his lips, “La vita ci dà solo ciò che sa che possiamo gestire.”

“Some would think you were a poet in a past life.”

A small laugh escapes his lips, and he shakes his head. A comfortable silence falls over them and she wishes she could bottle this feeling to keep with her forever. He turns to look at her, and it’s hard to put into words the feeling that washes over him. He’s not sure where it comes from, the urge to kiss her, but it sends him spiralling.

He reaches his hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, “Le stelle brillano più luminose nei tuoi occhi, amore.”

The words and his actions cause her heart to raise and her breath to hitch. They’re close now, the closest they’ve been since that night in February, and all she can think about is that kiss that they shared.

Neither knows who leaned in first, but suddenly their lips are touching and it is everything and nothing like they remembered. While the other kiss had been hesitant and brief, this one was full of purpose. Their noses brush and their breaths tangle together, he bits her lip for a moment and a small moan escapes her. He swears it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

He grabs at her hips, lifting her from the chair and placing her so she’s straddling his lap. She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs softly, earning a groan from the man. The sound sends shockwaves through her and she rocks her hips against his almost involuntarily. His lips move from hers to the side of her neck, pulling small whimpers from her as he nips and sucks at the skin. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. The feeling of his body pressed to hers, the pleasure he can so easily give to her.

She moves her hands down to fumble with the hem of his shirt and that’s when he pulls away. “While I would normally love to do that here, how about we continue this somewhere more private?”

She nods eagerly and removes herself from his lap. He all but drags her inside the villa and towards his room. She trips over her own feet and they both laugh at her clumsiness, falling into each other as he tries to catch her but trips over his own feet in turn. He leans in to kiss her again as their bodies collide, this one sweeter and softer than the previous one.

The moment passes quickly and soon she’s being dragged through the halls again, only to be met with a half asleep Damiano standing in the doorway of his room. They stop in their tracks, jumping apart, trying to act like nothing was happening. “It’s rude to have a party and not invite everyone, you know.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, glad that he didn’t know what had been happening moments prior. Ethan is quick to explain that they were just having a cup of tea on the terrace and were now heading to bed, and thankfully the lie is believed. Damiano wishes them a goodnight, heading back into his room, and the two are left in silence in the hallway.

“Maybe we should go to bed,” he whispers to her.

Her heart sinks, but she nods her head in agreement and turns to walk back down the hall to her room. She’s not really sure how the night was going to end, but this was definitely not how she wanted it to; walking in silence next to someone her heart aches for, pretending that nothing had happened between them.

He walks her up to her door, still ever the gentleman, and places a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Buona notte, amore.”

The words should not sound as sad as they do, and she tries her hardest to keep the tears welling up in her eyes at bay as she watches him turn and walk away.

June

How do you go back to being just friends after making out with someone? Well, you don’t. At least, not fully. They dance around each other without knowing it, avoiding any contact that could lead to something more or allude to something else, but there are still moments where the world seems to slip away and it’s just the two of them.

The tour kicks off at a festival in Amsterdam. Blue skies and sunny days greet them as they get off the plane. They have a day to explore before their first show, and no one can decide how to spend it. In the end, Victoria drags Thomas off to do some shopping, Damiano plans a trip to a few museums with his girlfriend, and she is left with Ethan.

She’s not truly stuck with him, but she doesn’t feel like wandering a forgein city all by herself. Since the night in the Villa, they haven’t spent longer than a few minutes alone together, both refusing to acknowledge what had happened.

A trip to the beach seems like the best place to be, and within the hour she’s lounging in the sun listening to Ethan read a book. It’s peaceful, the sound of the waves and his voice lulling her into a half sleep. She’s got a drink in her hands, something sweet and fruity, and she’s sharing a cigarette with Ethan. It’s a scene she thinks one would find in a movie.

She rolls herself over so she’s laying on her back, staring up at Ethan who sits beside her. She places her hand on his leg and traces random shapes into his skin. Goosebumps rise in the wake of her fingertips, and he tries to stay focused on the book in his hands but finds it hard to do so. “You are very distracting, amore.”

She looks up at him innocently and she can’t help but admire him. His hair is tucked away in a bun, but a few pieces have fallen out and are flying in the gentle breeze. He’s only wearing a pair of swim trunks, broad chest on full display. He catches her roaming eyes as they make their way back to his face, a smirk slowly forming on his face. “Or maybe I’m the one distracting you, no?”

She smiles shyly and looks away from him, because yes, he is distracting her, and she’s finding it very hard to not kiss him right now. He chuckles at her, reaching his hand towards her face and turning it back towards him. He leans down towards her, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

All she can do is nod, and a second later his lips are on hers. It’s sweet and slow, she can taste the tobacco on his lips and it’s intoxicating. She moves so she’s sitting up, leaning into him more, the world around them fading out until all that is left is them.

A few days later they find themselves in a hotel room in Munich. There’s music playing and everyone’s laughing. Her camera hasn’t left her hands all night, every moment needing to be captured as they ride the after show high.

She’s in the middle of recording Thomas’ one man act when a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist. She knows exactly who it is by the scent that invades her nostrils and sends her brain into overdrive. She lets out a sudden, loud laugh, as his fingers trace themselves up and down her sides, collapsing into his chest as she struggles to breath.

He picks her up and spins her around, letting out an equally loud laugh at her protests. He’s happy, and it’s something that looks better on him than any designer outfit he could ever buy.

He falls onto one of the beds, pulling her down with him. She lands beside him tangled in his arms, he’s looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. The world seems to silence around them as their eyes lock. Her smile softens and she reaches her hand over to brush an eyelash off his cheek, he catches her hand before she can pull it away and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently.

He looks ethereal in this moment, hair strewn all over the place, a wild look in his eyes. She reaches for her camera and brings it up to capture him, never wanting to forget this moment.

The streets of Prague are empty, save for the two of them walking hand in hand down them. It’s early, almost too early to be considered an acceptable time to be awake, but they continue on nonetheless. A wild craving for something sweet had brought upon their adventure, and with the look she was giving him, he couldn’t say no to accompanying her.

They had been sitting on the balcony of her hotel room, watching the sun starting to peak out over the horizon and sharing a cigarette when she had turned to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I want something sweet.”

The comment had earned her an offer to order room service, but she shakes her head at the idea, standing up and walking back into the room. “No. Something real, maybe a coffee too.”

He follows her in, watching her pull on a shirt to cover the bralette she had been sitting in. “È presto, amore. Let’s go to bed. We can order something when the sun is awake also.”

She smiles at his words, but makes no move to stop dressing. She grabs her wallet and room key before heading to the door, stopping to turn and look at him, a question in her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll come with you.” He says after a moment, throwing on his jacket and walking over to her.

It’s 7:30 in the morning, the sun is starting to make it’s daily appearance, and they are happy. The small bakery they stumble into is just opening for the day and they’re greeted by the owner, an older lady with the sweetest smile. She speaks in broken English, an obvious language barrier between the group of them, but no one seems to mind.

She orders herself a poppy strudel and a coffee, Ethan ordering a croissant and an espresso, before sitting down at one of the small tables. He sits beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. He presses a soft kiss into the crown of her head and she sighs in content.

Moments like this are what she lives for. She might only be here because she works for them, but somewhere along the way she’s become part of their little family. She looks over to Ethan who’s lost in conversation with the owner, and she whispers to herself, “Penso di essermi innamorato di te.”

She doesn’t know that he hears her, his smile spreading wider across his face.

July

The turnover from June to July happens mid concert in Stockholm. She swears she can feel it, the sudden shift, a slight change in the air. She’s running around in front of the stage capturing pictures of the band in what she’s come to call their ‘natural habitat’. There’s an indescribable buzz in the air as they perform, the crowd becoming louder and louder with each song.

She keeps catching Ethans eye and there’s something primal in the way he looks at her. During a song switch, while Damiano rambles to the crowd, he motions her on stage. He tells her to get closer to everyone, promising that they won’t bite, and she giggles at him. She does what he says nonetheless, capturing some up close photos of the band and a few great shots of the crowd.

All too soon the show is ending and everyone’s piling into the car, a small party taking place in the backseat. Damiano has music blasting from his phone, Victoria and Thomas are dancing along to the beat, and Ethan is belting out the lyrics. She watches the group of them, laughing so hard her sides hurt, and she’s never felt more at home.

When they get to the hotel he’s quick to pull her towards his room, thankfully void of a roommate for the night. The second they get into the room, his lips are on hers. He pulls her close to his body and her hands tangle themselves in his hair. It’s nothing like any of their previous kisses, it’s heated and fast, every thought trying to be conveyed by the fever of it. She pulls back slightly to catch her breath and he leans in to whisper in her ear, “Join me in the shower?”

It’s not so much a question as a statement, but she nods her head eagerly, quick to follow him into the bathroom. He strips himself of the few clothes he’s wearing (most having been thrown off during the show), before turning to her. He reaches his arms out towards her, pulling her close to him and tugging on her shirt. She barely registers him pulling off her clothes, too focused on his body in front of her.

She’s never seen him so bare, and she’s having a hard time focussing on anything else. It’s not until her body hits the warm water that she snaps back to reality. He looks wild, eyes blown with lust, a wicked smile on his face. She firmly plants her lips on his, moaning into the kiss as he grabs at her. His hands are skilled and know every way to pull those delicious sounds from her lips.

It’s quick and dirty, and it is everything she has ever imagined it would be.

An hour later, she’s tangled up in the sheets of his bed, his entire being engulfing her as they watch the stars outside the window. She wonders if they are watching them too.

Paris is the city of lights, a statement she’s never been more sure of. The streets are lit with every light, shining brighter than the stars. She’s in a permanent state of bliss, after the night she shared with Ethan. Their relationship is hidden from the public, living in stolen moments and nights in hotel rooms, but she’s never been happier to be someone's dirty secret.

The band is electric on stage, something about the city they’re in taking their performance to a whole new level. The show goes on longer than it should have, but none of them even care when their manager comes over to reprimand them. They hang around to greet fans and take photos with anyone and everyone, and it’s not until security has to kick them out that they finally leave.

They find themselves in a bar, not sure what part of the city they’re in, but no one cares when the night feels like this. They drink expensive drinks that they can’t pronounce the name of, dance to songs they don’t know the words to, and feel more alive than they’ve ever felt. It’s like the world turned itself up to 11 just for them.

She dances with Ethan, not caring who sees because the night is theirs and no one cares. She kisses him in the middle of the dance floor and he pulls her into a vacant bathroom. It’s hot and heavy and the smell of alcohol envelopes them, but they couldn’t care less. Is this love? They don’t care. They’re young and dumb, and well, you only live once.

Back at the hotel they spend the night wrapped in bedsheets on the balcony, a bottle of champagne and a pack of cigarettes shared between the two of them. He points to the stars, a stupid grin on his face, “Le stelle brillano solo per noi.”

She snorts, throwing an abandoned pillow at him. He grabs her arm and pulls her into him, tickling her sides until she’s begging him to stop, tears staining her cheeks but a laugh like no other leaving her lips.

As the night bleeds into morning, and both are hazy with sleep, he whispers to her, “Sei il mio universo.”

They walk down the streets of London, his arm slung over her shoulders as she rambles away, both blissfully unaware of the few fans snapping photos down the street. They don’t notice the group of girls following them, cameras and phones in hand, capturing picture after picture of the couple.

By the time they reach the shop, the photos are already out into the world.

As they order, reposts and comments start flowing, and their phones start lighting up with notifications.

Before they can pay, she’s crying.

Rule number one of being in the public eye; never look at the comments, distance yourself from social media as much as possible, it will never end well.

The final stop in Rome was supposed to be a welcome home. A big celebration was to occur after their last concert, but now, it’s nothing more than finding the quickest way back home. She sits in one of the dressing rooms the entire show, waiting for it to end, scrolling through her social media.

She knows she shouldn’t be, that’ll all it’s doing is hurting her, making her feel worse. But she can’t stop. The comments aimed towards her and the drummer are terrible, and she wishes she could just delete herself from existence. They aren’t even dating, at least not officially, but she’s been deemed the girlfriend from hell. She’s unknowingly stolen something that never belonged to anyone to begin with.

Damianos girlfriend is in the room with her, telling her of her own horror stories dealing with fans, and she knows she’s just trying to help, but she really wishes she would just shut up. She loves the girl to death, she’s been a blessing this entire time, but she feels her mind is too far gone to be saved from the madness.

It’s only a few minutes later that the band wanders in, the usual after show high replaced with a sudden heaviness. Ethan comes to stand by her after putting his things away and pulls her into a tight hug. “Amore mio.”

He’s sweaty and could definitely use a shower, but the hug is comforting. She rubs his back soothingly, knowing this is just as hard on him as it is on her. Their management team has told everyone to remain quiet about it, disappearing from the internet until further notice while they figure out how to manage the situation. It’s maddening, the inability to speak out and protect her. He wishes he could snap his fingers and everything would be fixed, but he knows nothing is ever that easy.

They make their way back to the villa in silence, the car filled with a strangeness. She’s sandwiched between Victoria and Ethan, leaning on the bassist's shoulder, watching her play a game on her phone. It’s not how anyone wanted to end the tour, but the world is a strange and cruel place. Everything good always comes burning down.

August

There’s a party at the villa one night. Things have calmed down enough that she doesn’t spiral every time she looks at her phone, but there’s something in the way Ethan acts around her that makes her uneasy. She’s standing out on the patio, trying to avoid the questioning eyes from everyone in the house. She hasn’t spoken to Ethan all day, and the alcohol coursing through her veins makes her even angrier than she knows she should be.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him walk out the door beside her, a small scoff leaving her lips as he tries to speak to her.

“Couldn’t be bothered to talk to me all day, what’s changed that you’ve decided to grace me with your presence?”

He looks at her, stunned. “I don’t get what you mean.”

She scoffs again, placing her glass on the table across from her. “Since London you’ve done nothing but ignore me. I get that this wasn’t easy for you, but it wasn’t exactly a cake walk for me. I needed you, Ethan, and you left me.” Her voice is raw and scratchy, the feeling of wanting to cry tickling the back of her throat.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how Dami does it, how he can deal with the comments and messages. My brain won’t shut off, I can’t stop thinking about how if I had been more careful, I could’ve protected you and none of this would’ve happened. I feel stupid for thinking I could have. I hate seeing you like this, I wish I could take you away from all of this.” His voice slowly lowers, till it’s nothing more than a whisper, words meant only for her.

“I was never what you wanted, was I? This was just all some stupid game to you. I was just someone you could use to get off.” Her voice is laced with pain, a small crack coming out as she speaks.

He shakes his head, laughing slightly, and turns to look away from her. He walks a few steps before turning to face her again, “No. No, you were exactly what I wanted. You were everything to me. We were the same type of crazy.”

“I don’t understand Ethan, then what was the problem? This feels like a confession and a break up all in one.” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, watching as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket and lights it.

The familiar sight creates something warm in her chest, memories of summer nights like this flash through her mind. Spending the evening sitting on the balcony of different hotel rooms, sharing a cigarette between the two of them while they let the events of the day soak in. She’d give anything to go back to one of those moments. He blows a breath of smoke out and starts to speak again, “I don’t know, amore. I don’t. I want to tell you I love you, to hold you and call you mine. But I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t.” It’s not a question, but a statement.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t turn this into something it’s not. I want to, believe me, I do.” He steps towards her and reaches out his arms, “But we both know we can’t.”

She doesn’t know where the tears come from, but they’re there, pooling in her eyes. It’s only been a few months since they’ve met, there were no promises to be anything more than a summer adventure, but this doesn’t feel right. Her heart should not be breaking at the thought of losing someone she barely even knows.

He stops when he notices her state, reaching out to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. “Merda. Merda! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

She looks up at him through clouded eyes, “Then how was this supposed to go, Ethan? Breaking my heart wasn’t supposed to hurt me this bad? I was supposed to smile and tell you that I'm not madly in love with you and these past few months meant nothing to me?”

His heart breaks slowly at her words. He never meant for the night to go this way, and he wishes he could just pull her into his arms and tell her he loved her, that everything could be okay. But he can’t, so he pulls away from her, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

They’re the only words he can manage to get out without breaking down. He takes a second to watch her, memorize all the features of her face, before turning around and walking away. It’s a sight that rips her heart out, watching his form disappear back into the house. She knows this is it, the goodbye she’d been preparing for these past few weeks, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

Before she can help herself, she’s calling after him. “Being in love isn’t a weakness, you know!” But the words fall upon deaf ears.

Vic finds her standing in the same spot an hour later. She’s got a smoke lit in her hand, the third one from the pack. She hasn’t touched her lips to any of them, but the smell and the feeling of holding it brings her comfort. She was never really one to smoke, but she found it entrancing to watch Ethan do it, and right now, it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. It’s silly, how something so small can mean so much.

Her heart aches in the most unbearable way, but she can’t bring herself to do anything about it. Vic doesn’t speak, just stands beside her. She doesn’t need to ask to know that she is well aware of the events that have just unfolded, she’s just grateful for the company.

September

It’s stupidly hot in London for the time of year, but mother nature loves her unexpected heat waves. She’s home now, having left Rome shortly after the fight with Ethan, assuring their manager that she would be able to edit and upload all of the photos and videos from the comfort of her own flat.

Vic and Thomas had driven her to the airport, had walked her all the way to security and hugged her tightly before letting her go. She’d promised to keep in touch and Victoria had made her pinky swear that if she was ever in Rome again, she’d come visit. The flight was short, and she was glad the time difference was only an hour.

Her sister had picked her up and dropped her off at her flat, and she’d immediately collapsed into bed. That was three days ago, she’d barely moved since. Someone had caught her at the airport and the photos were everywhere, articles upon articles had been released, she’d had non stop messages from everyone, but all she could bring herself to do was turn her phone off.

Her photos make it to the front of magazines, her articles getting featured all over the globe, she’s made a name for herself. She gets emails from prospective clients wanting to book her in at shows, her boss sending her information for more high end gigs, but all she can think about is her drummer boy.

Her phone still sits turned off on her desk, she refuses to turn it on for anything, resorting to using only her email, but she knows everything that’s going on with the band. She’d been asked to join them again in a few months, to become a permanent part of their team. She hasn’t been able to reply.

She gets panicky thinking about seeing him again, about the things people will say if she’s caught in the same country as him. She’s stopped receiving death threats, but there’s still comments that creep in, fans thanking whatever gods made them seperate.

Victoria tries to reach out every few days, worried about the state of person she’s become, but she can’t even manage to type out an I’m okay. The world seems to be too fast and too slow, too bright and too dark, too much and not enough. Her heart aches and it’s a pain so deep she thinks she’ll never be okay again. Love is a cruel, cruel creature.

October

She finally brings herself to go back to work at the beginning of the month. She books herself in for a small band, someone no one really knows but she hopes they will one day. She’s in Amsterdam now, trying hard not to think of the memories the place brings. The band is good, the music heavy and the beat strong. They find a way to tell a story that leaves everyone with a soul searching question by the end of the night. Do you know who you are?

She’s only with them for a few nights, a short gig, but something she needed to get the ball rolling, to remember why she was doing this in the first place. After submitting the photos and writing an article that sends another wave of offers her way, she takes a few days to explore the city. It was wonderful before, when the air was warm and it felt like there was magic enveloping the city. But now, with the change of seasons, it’s even more beautiful than she remembers.

She walks the empty streets one night, huddled in the safety of her hoodie, camera in hand, and captures moments. A couple standing under a street light, a cafe closing for the night, kids running. It’s not until she hears a laugh she’s all too familiar with that her heart stops and her blood turns cold. She turns, ever so carefully, hidden behind the side of a building, and sees him.

He’s beautiful, even more than she remembers, and he looks happy. He’s walking with two girls, the resemblance making her sure it’s his sisters, but in this light she can’t be sure. She’s never met them, but he talked about them often, and she felt a pang in her chest for the homesickness he must have felt.

She tries to run, tries her hardest to get away, but she’s in an alley that leads nowhere and he’ll for sure be able to see her no matter what. The voices of the three get closer and she starts to panic, but there’s nowhere to go and she knows she’ll have to pull on her big girl pants and face him. But her heart won’t stop beating so loudly and she’s afraid she’ll break if he looks at her.

She pretends to be busy with her camera, focusing all of her attention on settings she knows are perfect, but a voice carries it’s way to her ears. “Hey stranger.”

It’s soft and it makes her knees weak and she hates herself for it. She looks up at him and his expecting eyes and her heart breaks all over again. She can’t help it, but suddenly there are tears running down her face and she can’t breathe. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

He places a hand on her shoulder but she pushes it away, “No it’s not.” She says between breaths.

“I shouldn’t be here, I should not be here. I have to go.”

She turns to leave, but one of his sisters stops her, “Let us walk you home, please. My brother may be a dumbass, but we have good genes. Let us make sure you get back safe.”

She doesn’t know why the words calm her, but she nods her head and lets the girls lead her in the direction of her hotel. The twins, Eleanora and Lucrezia, talk to her in fits of italian and english, trying to keep her brain occupied. But her whole body is on high alert, too aware of the man trailing behind them and how much of a fool she must look like. She feels like a mess, like someone drowning in a foot of water, but she can’t help it.

They walk her into the lobby of her hotel, the girls wish her a goodnight before shoving Ethan towards her. She doesn’t want to talk to him, and he must see it in her eyes because he tries to leave. But his sisters won’t let him, they stand tall and he looks like a child being scolded by his parents.

“Can we sit?” He asks, pointing to a couch.

She doesn’t want to, she wants to run up to her room and cry, but she nods. They sit and it is silent. Her stomach is in her throat, her eyes hurt from trying not to cry, but she sits and she waits. She studies his face, the crease in between his eyebrows that only forms when he’s confused or thinking, she wants to reach over and smooth it out. He turns towards her and catches her staring, a small smile forming on his lips.

He takes her in, allowing himself to really look at her for the first time in months, and something in his heart breaks. How did he ever let her go? Why was he so stupid to ruin something so beautiful?

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. “I’m so sorry, amore. I know I can’t say it enough, I know it’s not as easy as that, but I’m sorry and I love you. So much it hurts.”

The words hit her like a truck, they knock the air out of her lungs and the tears she was trying so hard to keep at bay start falling down her cheeks. She stands up so fast she gets light headed, “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

She turns and starts walking towards the elevators. He calls after her, but she’s determined to leave, to get away. He runs after her, catching her right before the doors of the elevator close, and he wishes she didn’t look so broken. The doors slip close and she is gone and he feels like he could break something.

Her room is cold and she wishes she was home in her flat. She throws herself into the shower, the water burning her skin, and she sobs. She sobs so hard her body shakes, she screams and hopes no one can hear her.

He’s still standing by the elevator, crying now, too. His body aches in a way he’s never felt before and he hates that he isn’t holding her right now. He knows he messed up, he beats himself up for it everyday, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay, but he has to do something.

November

The ground is covered in snow. It is peaceful and quiet. He’s not used to this, the cold and the snow, but he understands the appeal. He’s standing outside her flat, or at least what he hopes is her flat, Victoria wasn’t exactly sure which one was hers. He’s bought her favourite flowers and he’s prepared to pour his soul out to her.

He paces outside her door for what feels like hours, trying to get himself to knock, but before he can, she opens the door. “Ethan?”

Her voice is soft, his heart sings at the sound of it. He turns to face her and the sight before him takes his breath away. She’s wearing a dress that shows off everything he loved about her, a coat thrown over her arm, she looks like an angel on earth. “Do you have a moment?”

She’s running late for dinner with her sister, but she’s afraid if she says no to him, she’ll never see him again. She hasn’t forgotten that night in Amsterdam, wishes she would have been brave enough to stay and talk, but she can’t change the past. “Yes, yes. Come in.”

She lets him into her flat, taking the flowers he hands her, and brings him over to her couch. “So.”

The script he’d had prepared in his head is suddenly gone from his memories. “I’ve thought this through a thousand times, planned this out a million different ways, but I can’t figure out the right words to say. I’m sorry, amore mio. I can’t say that enough. I never should have left you, shouldn’t have let things happen the way they did. Loving you was easy, and I think that scared me.”

She takes a deep breath, not sure what to say. She feels tears bubbling in the back of her throat and she hates that this is her response to everything revolving around him. He notices the shift in her, can tell she’s about to cry, “Amore mio, please don’t cry. I’ll start and then neither of us will be able to do anything else.”

She laughs quietly at his words, “I don’t think there are any tears left inside of me. I cried them all for you.”

His heart breaks at her confession. He moves closer to her and wraps himself around her. She hates how easy it is for her to melt into his touch, but she enjoys the comfort of it. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours amore.”

“Please, don’t leave me again.” The words are barely more than a whisper, but he hears them.

He pulls her tight to his chest and holds her. She doesn’t care about anything else but this moment and him.

She wakes up the next morning in her bed. The sun is streaming in through the windows and she can smell Ethans body wash laced in the fibres of her bed sheets. She rolls over, expecting to see him beside her, but is met with an empty bed. Her heart sinks, afraid that everything he’d said was too good to be true, that he’d left her, again. But the sounds coming from her kitchen prove her wrong.

She gets up, quickly changing out of the dress she was wearing the night before, and follows the sound of clinking dishes. She’s greeted by the sight of a shirtless Ethan, back turned to her, hunched over her stove. There’s the smell of coffee brewing and something soft playing from the radio. If she doesn’t think too hard, she can almost imagine this being a daily occurrence.

He turns around when he hears the floorboards creak, a smile on his face, “Buongiorno amore mio.”

“Buongiorno.”

He hands her a cup of coffee and plates the pancakes he’s made. She smiles at the domesticality of it all. He sits down beside her on the couch and they eat in silence, leaning against one another. Afterwards, she washes the dishes and he dries them. Neither one of them says anything until the sun is high in the sky and they are laying in bed together. “I love you.”

It is the first time she’s said it in such a permanent way, she recites it like it is a fact written in history books. He looks down at her, she’s curled up on his chest, a hazy look on her face. He reaches down to tuck her hair behind her ear and leans his head towards her, “Ti voglio bene.” He seals the statement with a soft kiss.

It’s light and barley there, she chases after his lips as he pulls away, and he chuckles in a way that sends butterflies into her stomach. She places herself on his lap, weaving her fingers into his hair as his tether to her waist. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He stares at her, memorizing all of the features of her face. He loses himself in thoughts of days spent exactly like this, of a life he hopes isn’t just a dream. He flips them over carefully, laying her down on the bed. He hovers over her, arms on either side of her head, “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

December

“Move in with me.”

It’s early in the morning and they’re sitting in bed sharing a pot of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, she’s leaned into his side, and he whispers those words.

She hasn’t yet told him about the offer from the band's manager, to become their permanent photographer, but it seems like the perfect moment to. “Yes.”

“Really?”

She laughs at his shock, “I was offered to come and work for the band full time, I haven’t replied yet. But I want to take the job.”

A goofy grin makes its way onto his face, “Do it! Right now. Tell them yes, come and stay with us. Be my girlfriend?”

He’s rambling and he doesn’t care. She smiles at him, her heart bursting with love for the man. “Okay, yes! Absolutely!”

Christmas is celebrated in their apartment in Rome. The band is there, her sister flies out and his family comes too. It is a day filled with love and laughter. They eat a grand lunch that they spent the previous day cooking, his mom brings a homemade panettone. They exchange gifts in the evening, and it is everything she’d dreamed of.

On New Year's Eve they make a trip to the villa. They sing songs and drink expensive wine. Fireworks light up the sky brighter than the stars. They sit out on the porch and tell stories of things that seem so far away. He’s sitting beside her, hands intertwined. He tells her about all of the things he wants to do in the new year and she is mesmerized by the way he talks.

There will be a moment in time when the world stops spinning and everything goes quiet, and she thinks that if that were to happen now, it would be the perfect way to go. Surrounded by the people she now calls family and the person she loves most in the world.

Fireworks go off in the distance, someone shouts out a drunken happy new year! and as time flows from one year to the next, she realizes that this is all that will ever matter.

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realllllfangirllllll · 4 years ago

Text

{SF9 Reaction} They get jealous of you fangirling at another group.

Kingdom Edition

{Requested by anon}

SF9 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(Disclaimer: I kinda wrote mini scenarios for each of them b/c I love this concept so much ashfdgkkjs)

Youngbin

The two of you were pretty transparent with each other in the relationship so he knew you stanned many other groups besides his own. Nothing really bothered him, but that was until he joined Kingdom. While the two of you sat on your couch, cuddled against each other to rewatch the pilot episode, you kept commenting on Bang Chan’s performance and how he had such great leadership skills. Youngbin felt himself get jealous especially when the topic of leadership was brought up. He tried his best to conceal his expression so he raised his other hand that wasn’t wrapped around your waist to the side of his face. You noticed his behavior and immediately thought of a mischievous plan. After all, it wasn’t everyday that you saw your calm and composed boyfriend on the verge of breaking down from jealousy. You purposely escalated your fangirling on Bang Chan until Bin couldn’t contain his composure anymore and he unwinded his arm around your waist, got up, and stood in front of your view. You suppressed your laughter as you moved your head around in an attempt to watch the tv but he wasn’t impressed. His entire body moved along with wherever you moved and you ended up bursting out into giggles. You grabbed his waist to still him but he didn’t budge. “Kitten, I’m not going to stop until you praise me like you did with Bang Chan,” Youngbin said in a bitter tone. You stopped giggling and stood on the couch to match his height. Out of the blue, you showered his sour face with kisses and his expression immediately shifted into his signature eye smile. You pulled back and said sweetly, “How about I give you kisses instead?”

Inseong

Inseong just got back from his shooting for Kingdom and you welcomed him with your arms and wide opened for a hug. He always loved when you gave him a long, warm hug after a day of tiring work but today, he was a lot clingier than usual. He never pulled apart from the hug and walked forward, which caused you to topple over the soft couch. You giggled as he stuffed his face into the side of your neck and took a whiff of your scent. You wiggled around as he tickled you with his breath. In between your giggles you asked why he was being like a mopey puppy and he let out a long groan. He pulled apart and stared up into your eyes with his dopey ones and whined, “When we got ready to leave the shooting site for Kingdom, Chanwoo came up to me and told me how nice you were. How do you guys even know each other??” You chuckled at his pouty and jealous expression and placed your hand on top of his head. You played with his fluffy hair and told him in an amused tone, “Chani had his number and I love Chanwoo’s voice.” You saw Inseong pout again and you continued teasing him, “I couldn’t just give up on such a great opportunity. I am a dedicated ikonic.” The last sentence triggered him and he immediately hoisted his body up and peered down at you with jealousy, “I thought you love my voice.” You giggled and decided to stop teasing him before he exploded with even more jealousy and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled him down and connected your lips to his, “I love your voice the most.” He immediately replaced the pout on his lips with a wide smile.

Jaeyoon

You waited for Jaeyoon to finish taking a shower after he came back from his shoot for Kingdom so you sprawled yourself across your bed and decided to stream the youtube clips of previous Kingdom performances on your iPad. The thumbnail of The Boyz’s performance caught your eye and you clicked into the clip. You were so excited to see another version of The Stealer and also couldn’t wait to see your bias, Sangyeon, dancing to it. You were so absorbed into their beautiful choreo, you didn’t realize that Jaeyoon came out of the bathroom and was standing by the bed frame for a good ten minutes. He cleared his throat but you didn’t hear him through the loud audio. Jealously crept into his veins and he tried his best to cover it with sarcasm, “Should I dance to The Stealer so my baby will pay attention to me?” You finally heard him and chuckled at his behavior. You taunted him in response, “But it won’t be the same because you’re not Sangyeon.” Jaeyoon gasped, feigning hurt and took the device from your hands. He carelessly placed it on the bedside table before he flung himself onto the soft mattress. He hovered over you and said with amusement, “Well then I guess I have to show you why Jaeyoon is even better.”

Dawon

Dawon stared at you for the longest time in disbelief and chuckled out of nervousness as you sat beside him on the couch of his company’s dance studio. You made dramatic fangirl comments at Ateez’s Kingdom performance especially when Seonghwa appeared on the screen. You punched Dawon’s arm and told him to watch with you, excessively showering Seonghwa with praises. You weren’t oblivious to your boyfriend’s jealousy but you loved it whenever the opportunity came up. He has a tendency of sarcastically laughing with a hint of shy nervousness when he gets jealous and that was exactly how he was acting at the moment. Originally, you only wanted to see Ateez’s performance because you were a big fan of them and because you were waiting for Dawon to finish practicing. But when he came down and sat beside you, you unintentionally praised Seonghwa’s beauty on stage which sparked Dawon’s jealously and you couldn’t help but to continuously tease him and rile him up. As a result, you amped up your inner fangirl until Dawon couldn’t handle it anymore. “Okay that’s it,” He chuckled bitterly and grabbed your phone. You turned to him and he stared into your eyes with a pout and large puppy eyes. “Focus on me baby.” You swallowed down a laughter and extended your arm out for the phone and wailed, “But my Seonghwa!” At this rate, Dawon knew you were messing with him so he grabbed your arms and placed it around his neck before he proceeded to lift you up off the couch and onto him. He sat back down on the couch and had you on top of his laps. Quickly and cunningly, he shoved your phone underneath his butt and sarcastically remarked with amusement, “Come get your phone if you want to see your Seonghwa that badly.”

Rowoon

Rowoon had just come back from his shooting for Kingdom and you followed him around the house like a lost puppy. “Did you see Younghoon? Did you get to talk to him? How was it seeing him perform live??” You fired questions at him like an automatic rifle, clearly showing your enthusiasm as a Deobi, especially a Younghoon stan. Rowoon knew you really liked The Boyz and he was usually fine with your enthusiastic support for the group. He would even join you and fanboy himself when you watch their stages on Youtube. But Rowoon was exhausted after the shooting and was anticipating to have his s/o welcome him home with some love, something he missed so much after being apart from you for drama and Kingdom shootings. Instead, you were asking him about another man and that immediately sparked his jealousy. At first, he just let you ramble on as he took off his shoes and went to the bathroom to freshen up. He loves you and he usually will never pick a fight or act petty no matter how jealous he was. You knew that. You also knew that he was jealous the moment you opened your mouth. At first, you only wanted to get some intel from your boyfriend who had seen one of your biases in person but after seeing the jealousy that flashed in his eyes, you made it your mission to make Rowoon crack for once. You were enjoying yourself so much that you continued talking about Younghoon even as he was in the shower. You leaned against the marble sink and tried saying random nonsense to rile him up but he only chuckled at your fangirl behavior and continued to shower. Suddenly, a mischievous thought crossed your mind and you waited until Rowoon turned off the shower faucet and stepped out to initiate the plan. You feigned a curious, innocent stare at him and placed your hand beneath your chin as if you were deeply contemplating. “Babe, I’m curious about something...” He absentmindedly replied as he plugged in the hair dryer to the wall outlet, “Oh yeah? What is it?” You smirked and eyed him up and down, “Do you think Younghoon is as tall and built as you?” Rowoon froze midway through drying his hair. He turned towards you and turned the device off with a jealous look on his face, one that you have never seen before. You bit down on your lips to hold back a laughter. Gotcha. Before he could muster up a response you continued, “What about his laugh? Does he laugh like you do?” You stared at your boyfriend innocently and his face was flushed red with jealousy. He placed the hair dryer aside and suddenly hoisted you up on top of his broad shoulders, “Definitely not.” He said firmly and then chuckled before softly throwing you onto the cloud-like mattress. His face hovered closely above yours, “He will never be able to easily carry you like I just did nor could he ever make you smile the way I do.” You burst out into giggles as he proceeded to tickle you until you shower him with compliments the way you did with Younghoon.

Zuho

Zuho casually talked to you about his experience in Kingdom as he drove through the dimly lit streets. The two of you decided to go for a quick date late at night, mostly to avoid getting caught by the media, and he was beyond excited to tell you about meeting his seniors. You listened intently and responded with excitement as well since the both of you were huge fans of Btob. Zuho stopped talking once the car had arrived to the isolated park. The two of you laid on top of the car’s hood and gazed at the stars in the night sky and continued the conversation. Somewhere in the middle of your chat, you turned to him and pouted. You told him you wish you were there as well because you wanted to see and hear Minhyuk live. You emphasized with a big pout on your lips, “I want to see Minhyuk rap with his husky voice but also hear him sing with his honey smooth vocals.” Zuho froze for a second, your words not fully processing through his mind. He turned towards you and mumbled with slight jealousy, “I didn’t know you like Minhyuk that much.” He chuckled in disbelief and questioned you, “Husky voice? Honey smooth vocals?” He then became really flustered, caught by surprise at you fangirling more than usual. He kept blinking in disbelief, unable to accept the fact that you liked Minhyuk so much. You found amusement in his cute behavior and teased him even more. You placed your hands by your heart and said dramatically, “I could die happily once I hear Minhyuk live.” Zuho started to get really flustered, cheeks red with jealousy. You chuckled at your adorable boyfriend and squished his cheeks, “I’m messing with you babe! I’m a diehard Melody but my boyfriend is always the #1 person I’d die for.” You gave him a ridiculously sweet look and he caved in. He pulled you on top of him for a hug before the both of you accidentally slid off the side of the hood and onto the ground, with Zuho underneath you as a cushion. He grunted at the impact as you giggled uncontrollably.

Taeyang

When you were mindlessly humming to No Air in the kitchen after watching The Boyz’s latest Kingdom performance, Taeyang’s ears perked up and jealousy immediately ignited in his body. Yes, he gets jealous that easily. You would usually tell him how you enjoy watching The Boyz perform because it’s so satisfying and he would agree because it’s true. But you would also start to notice his pettiness everytime you mention them. He’d nod at your comments and agree but in a way that seems almost sarcastic. “Yeah they are great dancers,” he’d tell you. But then he’d look up at you and say, almost for confirmation, “But I’m a great dancer too.” You’d chuckled to yourself and agree or else you know he’ll be sulking for the rest of the day. But this time, you wanted to see how Taeyang gets when he’s really jealous. At first, No Air really was stuck on your head so you were humming to it. However, something mischievous struck you as you were making chocolate covered strawberries in the kitchen. You wanted to see how far you could take the joke so you purposely pressed his buttons. From the moment he heard you humming, he immediately dashed by your side and wrapped his arms around you as you boiled the chocolate. He laid his head on your shoulder and tried his best to subtly ask you, “Were you watching The Boyz’s performance again?” You replied with a yes and emphasized, “Juyeon is such a great dancer and his expressions are so intriguing,” and that’s when Taeyang lost it. He clung onto you as you were trying to cool down the chocolate and even while you were moving to grab the strawberries from the fridge, he’d stick to you like glue and kept asking you why you like Juyeon so much. “Babyyy,” he whined, “Did you forget about me??” He kept kissing your cheeks with his arms wrapped around you as you struggled to wash the strawberries. At the end, you gave up and twisted around to face him. His arms never let go of your waist as he continued saying jealous nonsense. You took your hand and squished his cheeks, “You are the best, most handsome and talented dancer, artist, and boyfriend okay?” He smirked, satisfied, and you giggled at his ridiculous face squished between your hand. He was just about to open his mouth to spew more nonsense and you shoved a strawberry in his mouth, “okay now shush babe. I love you but I want to eat my chocolate covered strawberries, preferably with the chocolate, so stop clinging onto me.”

Hwiyoung

Hwiyoung’s a fun-loving boyfriend and he wouldn’t just randomly get jealous even if you were meeting up with an ex. He respects your boundaries and trusts your decisions. You love him for that but it also wanted made you curious as to how your boyfriend would react when jealous. SO you decided to surprise him after his Kingdom shoot and went to pick him up with their manager. You hid in the van and surprised the boys when they came toward the vehicle. The eight boys already knew your devious plan and paid no mind to you acting unusually dramatic as you kept asking him if he talked to Hyunjin during the shoot and if you could meet him as well. He looked at you weirdly with a bit of skepticism, “You weren’t that interested in meeting him when I was on Idol Radio with him..why are you so eager now?” You flinched at his retaliation and quickly hopped into the van. You heard Rowoon and Juho snickered in the back and you glared at them for the mockery. As the engine started and the vehicle started down the road back to the dorms, you initiated your second attempt to get under your boyfriend’s skin. You pulled out your phone and watched the Stray Kids’s introduction stage on youtube without earphones. Subtly, you turned to Hwiyoung and asked with the most innocent and adoring eyes, “Babe I didn’t know Hyunjin looked so great with long hair.” At that comment, Hwiyoung’s expression slightly shifted. Almost immediately he responded with a more serious tone, “Even better than I did?” You held back your laughter and felt success creeping up. In the back of the van, you saw Rowoon and Zuho giving you a slightly surprised expression. You winked at them and got excited as your boyfriend gradually became jealous. When you all got back to the dorm, Hwi stuck to your side. You tried so hard not to laugh as he kept asking you with slight skepticism in his tone, “When did you like Hyunjin so much?” “Should I grow out my long hair again?” He acted like a kid got abandoned by his mother and needed to grab your attention. To your surprise, he acted in such a different way than you would’ve thought. But you found it so adorable so you teased him even more by turning the tv on to watch a Hyunjin fancam. Hwi caught you by surprise again as he plopped down on the couch beside you and wiggled adorably to get your attention. You raised the remote to your lips and masked your giggles, keeping note to tease him more often.

Chani

Another one that doesn’t get jealous often. Or ever actually. That’s just not the way he shows affection. But that was until things got a little too personal. Beside the sepgu boys, Chani has never really seen you interact with any of his other friends so he never understood actual jealousy. However, after the one time Chanwoo called Chani to thank him for his advice on Kingdom, he started to notice how much you liked Chanwoo and Ikon. Because of your boyfriend’s appearance on Kingdom, you started to take an interest on Ikon and became a fan of their music. It was true that you liked Chanwoo’s voice but it was never really to the extent of fangirling over him. That thought never crossed your mind until Chani kept asking you how much you liked Ikon, or most importantly, Chanwoo. From his point of view, he’d always notice how your face brightens while watching Ikon performances on the tv. He’d stare at you with a hesitant smile and when you asked him what he was staring at you for, he’d simply reply with a shrug, “You always seem so happy to see Chanwoo’s part in the song.” At first, you hadn’t put much thought into his comment until he continuously brought it up every time an Ikon music video appeared on tv. And so one day, you decided to tease him and hopefully see your boyfriend become an adorable, jealous mess. The two of you were browsing through Netflix shows in your bedroom since it was his free day. You had the remote as you struggled to find something remotely interesting to watch. The two of you slept until late afternoon, yet Chani was still as drowsy as before. You chuckled to yourself as he laid comfortably on your shoulder. Suddenly, he shifted on the bed and got up to go to the bathroom. You found this to be the perfect chance to rile him up so you quickly exited the Netflix page and went to youtube to watch a Chanwoo fancam. Chani came back and slightly flinched in surprise at the tv screen. Your eyes were glued to the tv screen and you ignored him as he crawled back onto the bed and asked, “I thought we were watching a show?” You smiled to yourself and told him you felt like watching Chanwoo dance instead. You were mentally preparing yourself to see Chani act adorably jealous but he took you by surprise and grabbed the remote from you. He turned the tv off and stared at you with dark lust in his eyes. You fell back against the headboard as he hovered over you. He whispered in a deep voice with apparent annoyance and jealousy in his tone, “Chanwoo this. Chanwoo that. It seems like you forgotten who your boyfriend is.” You chuckled nervously and told him you were just joking, but it was too late. Chani pulled the covers over the both of you and lets just say...you eventually got off bed to have your first meal of the day in the late evening.

———

• Yes. These were long. Yes. Some of these gradually got spicy. 🥵 But I couldn’t help it I love the boys agsgsksks •

• Support the boys (and other groups) on kingdom! •

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bonnyskies · 4 years ago

Text

deadly agenda ⇢ myg

min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.

pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung

genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au

warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil

author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.

word count — 7.4k

masterlist

Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.

Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.

Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.

Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.

The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.

Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.

And lastly, your eyes.

Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.

You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.

The welcoming feast was extremely dull.

Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.

And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.

It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.

Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”

Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.

“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”

The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.

Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.

Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.

“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”

“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”

“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”

“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”

“He needs to learn some manners—”

Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”

With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.

That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.

And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.

“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.

“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”

“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”

One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.

If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.

Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.

And apparently you had the same tendency too.

While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.

Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.

“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”

Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”

“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.

A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.

“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.

“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”

Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.

“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”

“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”

“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”

Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”

The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.

He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.

When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.

Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.

“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.

“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”

Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.

Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.

“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”

Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”

Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”

“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”

“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”

“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way��it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.

Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.

Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.

Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.

“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”

Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Really, it doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”

Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”

Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.

Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.

Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.

Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?

You are far more enticing than she is.

Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.

Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.

Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.

You are truly something else.

“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”

And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.

“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”

Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”

The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”

That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.

“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.

“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”

That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.

He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.

But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.

Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”

“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”

For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”

Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.

Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.

Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.

So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.

“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”

Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”

“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.

“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”

Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.

“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”

Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.

“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”

Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”

Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.

“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.

Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”

“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”

With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.

Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.

“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”

“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”

Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”

“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.

His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”

Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.

He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.

Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.

“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”

Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.

“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”

Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”

Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.

The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.

The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.

Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.

Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.

“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.

“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”

Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”

Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.

“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”

“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”

“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”

“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”

Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.

“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”

“None of them belong on the throne!”

“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”

Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”

Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.

You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”

“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”

“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”

You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”

“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”

“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”

Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”

“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.

“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”

“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”

“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”

As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.

“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.

A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”

Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.

“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.

The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.

“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”

Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”

It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.

Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”

“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”

The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.

This was the start of something new.

“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”

The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.

“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”

“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Everything’s prepared and ready?”

The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”

“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.

“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”

“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.

Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”

You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.

“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”

“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.

“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”

“Oh well.”

Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.

“Your Majesty.”

Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”

“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”

“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”

“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”

“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”

Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.

There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.

This is just the beginning for you two.

would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.

TAGLIST:

@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah

#bonnyskies #bts #bts angst #bts one shot #bts x reader #bts x male reader #min yoongi #min yoongi angst #min yoongi one shot #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x male reader #yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi one shot #yoongi x reader #yoongi x male reader #bts imagines #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines

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elysianslove · 4 years ago

Text

heaven on your lips; matsukawa smau

synopsis; he finds refuge in that no matter what, you will always come back to him. he finds refuge in that he’s the sole reason for your pleasure and happiness. whether that be from the sidelines, or from within the four walls of your home, in the confines of your bedroom. no matter what, you’re his, and he’s yours, even if neither of you seem to notice it.

pairings; matsukawa issei x fwb!reader

genre; fluff, smut, humor

warnings; cursing and inappropriate language. nsfw and suggestive themes.

masterlist | previous , chapter fifteen , next

“you look so— good.”

it’s the first thing that you notice when you slide open your door to greet semi, at exactly seven minutes past five in the evening. he’s punctual, and you’re sure of that because you’d heard the roar of his car’s engine arrive at your door seven minutes earlier. you’re not too upset about this though, because you’d needed those extra seven minutes of preparation and self boost, as much as he apparently did too.

at your words, semi laughs lightly, and the second thing you notice is just how much prettier he is in real life. of course, you’d met him before, spent hours with him too. but seeing him in a different light, from a different perspective, and also with how the two of you are older now, it somehow makes him even more attractive. his hair is the same lovely silver, dipping into a darker tone at the ends, and it’s styled nicely, yet not too neatly: making an effort, but effortlessly. his smile is slight and simple, and it sends a flurry of butterflies to the pit of your stomach. you shiver to try to rid yourself of them.

you were right, for the matter. he does look really good. he dons a plain, loose and thick, lavender sweatshirt, which compliments his hair rather nicely. it’s tucked into his black trousers, which have a two chains dangling from one hook in the front to the back on his right hip, similar to the chain on your own skirt. to compliment the simplicity of his sweatshirt, he wears a couple of chain necklaces, paired with a small cross. you were really right.

as your eyes travel back up to his face, you notice the light pink that’s dusting his cheeks, and instead of eliciting a cheeky, teasing remark from you, all it does is fluster you even more, and you shiver lightly. so instead, you ask, “ready to go?”

he nods at you, smiling and muttering a simple, “whenever you are,” before he steps back to allow you space to leave and shut the door behind you.

soon after you’re in his car, the neighborhood’s music playing in the background as he drives off. he has the windows down, the wind’s breeze welcome despite it tousling your hair. december weather is always perfect back home: it’s not snowing yet, so it’s not too cold, but it’s not the stifling heat of the summer either. it’s settling somewhere in between, enough to make it necessary to wear thicker layers, but not to the point that your fingertips purple.

the route he takes is not familiar, but you still recognize the streets. it’s not a reason for worry either way; this date is iwaizumi-approved after all. you enjoy the scenery as it dashes by you, making small talk with him, catching up slightly as he drives the two of you to your destination.

“would it scare you too much if i asked you to put on a blindfold?” he asks, eyeing you slightly with a careful smile.

you laugh, twisting in your seat to face him better. “depends; what’s it gonna be for?” you tease, and he gasps jokingly at your insinuation.

“that sounds more like a second date activity than a first, don’t you think?” he retorts.

you giggle, leaning your head against the passenger seat’s headrest, watching him as he drives. he has a really nice side profile. a nice everything. “aw, already thinking of the second date?” you say. he only hums in amusement to humor you, pulling out the blindfold from his pocket and handing it to you. “alright, my life’s in your hands now, pretty boy,” you tell him, before you lift up the cloth, and tie it at the back of your head.

when semi unlocks your car door, you try not to resort to your other senses as he leans down and takes your hand, leading you out of the car. his hands are firm, grasping yours steadily and firmly, and the pads of his fingers are calloused, a symbol of his musical talent. when your fingers brush against the back of his hand, you find it so soft, veins barely evident underneath your touch.

“careful, don’t trip,” he guides you, and you hear the car door shut behind you. wherever he’s taken you, there seems to be a lot more wind, and excitedly, you squeeze his hand, letting him lead the way, before, a couple steps later, he comes to a stop. you do too, and you hear him step behind you, feel his hands brush lightly against your hair as he tentatively undoes the blindfold. “moment of truth,” he whispers, before finally the blindfold falls, and your eyes blink back open.

your breath hitches in your lungs, and you freeze, eyes frozen on the scenery before you. you’re at a beach, the shore a little bit further away from you, the sun hanging low, cascading a pink and orange simmer on the waves. once given the okay to feel and smell all around you, the sea salt breeze rushes through you, and you shiver, but it’s not from the cold. it’s from just how thought out this is. there’s a blanket spread out on the sand, plain white, with two pillows and food spread out. there’s fruit, bread, ramen, drinks, everything. and on the picnic basket in the corner, there is another, smaller bouquet of flowers, simple daisies. he planned a beach picnic.

he planned a beach picnic.

holy shit.

“semi,” you gasp out, finally managing to turn to face him. he’s eyeing you carefully, observing your expression in an attempt to read it. “semi this is—”

he laughs lightly at your speechlessness, and walks closer to you, closer to the setup, outstretching a hand. “after you,” he urges.

you look back quickly at the blanket spread out by your feet, before gazing back at him, and in a sudden rush, you reach out for him, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady him, and leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“oh,” he sighs, breath staggering as you step back.

“thank you,” you whisper, smiling at him brightly. he smiles back.

by the time you’ve finished your ramen, sipped on your drink, and have begun snacking on the fruit semi’s brought, the sun is dipping further down, illuminating your surroundings barely. he’d come prepared though and had brought out two lamps, placing them between the two of you. as you stick your toothpick in another piece of fruit, you listen intently as he speaks, telling you of some hilarious rampage him, tendō and ushijima had gone on.

“you three were pretty close, huh?” you mumble, shifting so that you lean on one hand to your side, your legs spread out elegantly to your other side.

he nods. “yeah we spent a lot of time together,” he replies. “what with school, volleyball, and the dorms.” at the mention of this, he laughs, before continuing, “yeah don’t get me started on the dorms and the shit tendō would drag us into.”

you laugh with him.

“what about you?” he adds. “you and your third years were also pretty close, weren’t you. i saw you at a couple of their games.”

you hum, sitting up straighter. “i grew up with oikawa and iwa, so i’ve known them my whole life.”

he looks surprised at that, asking, “you— you did? i didn’t imagine the three of you went this far back.”

“oh yeah since diapers,” you say, giggling lightly. “oikawa i’ve known maybe two years longer, since our mothers were friends, and then iwa moved in right by us and it was like fate really.”

his mouth falls open, and he breaths in steadily, as if about to speak up. but then his eyes falter, and he sighs instead. instead of mentioning it, you pick up a cherry stem, two red cherries hanging off on either end, and pop one in your mouth, spitting out the seed before eating the other one. he watches your mouth part carefully as you take the other seed out, fiddling with the stem in your fingers.

“can you tie a knot?” he asks, curious.

“hm?”

he nods at the stem in your hand, pointing a finger barely, before asking again, “can you tie a knot with your tongue?”

you raise a brow at him. “maybe.”

he grins at you, before suddenly, he’s a lot closer. “show me,” he encourages. you see his eyes flicker to your lips, to the stain of red from the cherries you’d just eaten, and reflexively, you bite on your bottom lip, muffling your laugh. otherwise, you do as he asks, and brings the cherry stem in your mouth, placing it on your tongue.

you yourself have settled closer to him, and you’re not sure when this tension had built all of a sudden, but you welcome it. with the cold that’s pinching at both your revealed skin, his cheeks are dusted pink, and so is the tip of his nose. his hair, longer than it had been in your high school years, covers the tips of his ears, but the breeze shifts it, and you notice how red they are too. maybe it’s the dimming light around you that’s set the mood like this, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re all technically alone, secluded away in this corner of the beach. either way, you feel your nerves alight as his eyes remain on you, as your tongue moves and twists and your teeth pull at the stem. and when it’s all done, when you’ve tied the knot, you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and revealing the stem to him, and he visibly shivers.

taking it between your fingers, you showcase it to him. “that’s what i like to call talent,” you joke, twisting the stem between your fingers.

“can i kiss you?”

the question forces you back slightly, throwing you off guard for a second, but you drop the stem without another moment of hesitation, and gasp out, “yes,” and his hands are settling on your cheeks and bringing you to him before you could think. you welcome the taste of him on your lips, kissing him back. although he seems eager, he feels gentle. he’s testing out the waters, letting you slightly take the lead, so you do, leaning closer, kissing him harder, breathing him in, leaning into his touch. as he deepens the kiss, encouraged by your actions, you sit up. his mouth doesn’t leave yours once as you push yourself closer to him, hands blindly reaching for him until finally, you settle on his lap. his hands leave your face at that, dipping down to your waist, welcoming the new position.

it’s when his hands grip your waist, caress down to your hips and squeeze at your thighs that you realize— he’s different. he feels different, smells and tastes different. his hands don’t necessarily feel wrong, because they feel good on you. you want more, want him to push you flush against him, want to press your lower body harsher on him, want to kiss him till he’s breathless. you do, you want to so much.

and yet, even if it doesn’t feel wrong, it also doesn’t feel right.

there’s something missing, something you can’t identify. you kiss him harder, pushing away at the thoughts, trying to lose yourself in him, in all of him. he gasps against you as you grip at his sweater, your hands trailing upwards tangling in his hair, pulling and tugging. his moans are muffled against your mouth and you swallow them eagerly, hips rutting against him, your own gasps tumbling out.

still, there’s something missing.

you’re unable to dwell on it for too long as he grabs a firmer hold on your body, and twists you, pushing you down onto the blanket.

end note; i’m v sorry to have kept you guys waiting so long for this chapter omg, but i hope it didn’t disappoint at all. i’m nervous to post it uh oh. anyways! things are gonna get so good ugh i miss issei

↪️ taglist; @pockyxx @littlevoxine @oahbooks @diyeoracha @pun-in-ten-ded @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @kac-chowsballs @its-the-aerieljeane @dreamie-corpsie @moonlitdabi @fckyaeger @prettyforpapiiwa @elianetsantana @adorable-punk-superheroes @memorableminds @palmtopkags @crescenttooru @aktregoning @llavender-honeyy @satoriluver @rucan @ilauvcoldpizza @chaelysian @gojosfatjuicycock @bokoutoebutmain @morpheus-rex @keishinsuke @thatnikkixx @greyevangeline @daddy-daichis @thenezuko @ptv-hades @h0ngh0ngh0ng @atsumubabe @ivsahi @kritiiiii @heyatsumu @apollochjld @softestooru @lonelysimpkawa @anaakaashi @dreampathic @jooleuuh @elephantloser @sexykpoprincess-blog @bebegi @psychedelicwh0r3 @bakugouswh0r3 @fluffyviciousbunny @halesandy @simpinforseventeen @zvkoo @noliamallpayne @steggy4ever @michaki @akaawhore @jimmyneutron975 @stel9 @auror-lovie @a-little-pebbl @afire24 @keitoshikatsu @somecravings @richkookie @dennymilkus @prettybeezs @cutiepatoodie @roses-and-grasses @unhappysap @goldentsumu @swagdaddycam @kenmasgf @lvrkuroo @blvxstery @miwtze @donteathecake @anngelllla @idiot-juice-enthusiast @kuroos-roosterhead @just-that-bi-girl @tanzaniiite @amlnadya @shoutamajiki @spicyshinsou @tomatoezzz @rinatarosslut

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#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu smut #haikyuu first kiss #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa smau #matsukawa issei smau #mattsun x reader #mattsun smau #semi x reader #semi smau #semi eita x reader #semi eita smau #s. heaven on your lips

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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life is not a shoujo manga

— Kaibara believes that his life with you could be a shoujo manga. Why? One, he’s in love with you and two, you work at a maid cafe he is prohibited from visiting. But nothing happens in life without doing what you’re told NEVER to do.

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pairing: kaibara sen x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, modern!au, reader is a sex worker, maid cafe but make it kinky, dubcon (spoiler: reader just services kaibara despite his embarrassment), semipublic sex, master and maid dynamic/kink, blow job, sex on a table, marking

word count: 4,570

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab for sex work lmaoooo, this was hella inspired by maid-sama,,, kinda sorta, not really, but hey!!!! check out the rest of the masterlist and I hope you enjoy this!!! happy birthday to me :D

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Kaibara Sen was pretty confident in the fact that he was not in a shoujo manga.

There are, however, some claims that he can unashamedly admit make him believe that he might be in one. Here is his gathered evidence:

1. He had a crush on a girl (you) that was practically written to be nothing more than a crazy, hopeful fantasy.

Explanation:

Kaibara has known you for his entire life, but you, the airheaded, mind focused on only those around you, had never noticed him. You were bright, intelligent, witty, with blazing eyes and a curling smile, you were an enigma in the world, and he was a bystander just waiting for a day when you would notice him. Popular as you were, Kaibara knew he stood no chance at ever playing a role in your life. There was no room for his initial stoic personality, the way that he walks away from you as you near because, god forbid, you see his ears tinge pink.

All in all, you never knew he existed, and his crush would have to remain one-sided and unknown. But you see, reason number two is yet a testament to his denied belief that he lives a shoujo manga.

2. He had gained your attention one day by catching you one day when you tripped off a brick wall.

Explanation:

Talk about falling into the arms of the one you’re destined for! Kaibara had been walking home from the end of his first year of high school, and as he turned a corner, there came a yell and he looked up to see a body plummeting towards him. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and superhuman strength supplying him the strength and ability to catch you, Kaibara caught you bridal style. He held you there for a few moments, the air suddenly blowing and the blossoming cherry blossoms swirling with the winds. He swore your eyes brightened at the moment you locked eyes.

3. He had a (former) love rival.

Explanation:

Pretty self-explanatory, Kaibara would admit. Before his introduction to you, another male student in your class had been essentially building up his intentions to ask you out. Kaibara wasn’t one to step on people’s toes; he respected people too much and often just didn’t want to spend energy where he thought was unnecessary. But you were never unnecessary. Kaibara wanted you and found himself clashing heads with this other love rival, but he seemed to have won the moment Kaibara was accepted into the same university as you.

4. You were working at a maid cafe.

Explanation:

Kaibara did not have an older sister for no reason. Maid-Sama and Ouran Highschool Host Club were constantly on repeat when he was growing up! Because of this selected memory and application, he believed that time and time again, whenever maids were involved — or any type of service job — it was shoujo material.

Four points and that was four more points than most romances, and Kaibara was convinced that he was in line to become the main star of a real-life adaption of some obscure shoujo manga. All he had to do now was seal the deal and get you, his now best friend of nearly four years, to fall in love with him.

“I have work tonight,” you sigh from your place on Kaibara’s bed, your face twisted in a dissatisfied pout, feet kicking a bit on the mattress.

“Call out,” Kaibara simply replied, his head resting upon yours as you both watched an old All Might film. “I don’t understand why the maid cafe is open so late anyways. Who’s even awake and wanting to go out?”

You chuckle at his words, fingers tapping on your thigh — as they do when you’re a bit nervous.

“It’s a cafe for foreigners and people who are up late,” you repeat the same line you always say when Kaibara asks why you would go in so late. “It works out, and it pays well.”

“How long is your shift tonight?”

“Ten until three.”

Kaibara groans, “that’s rough.”

You snicker a bit in unknown irony, “you have no idea.”

Time passes, and Kaibara realizes that it’s nearly nine-thirty by the time you pull away from the small mirror on Kaibara’s desk (he bought it so that you could do your makeup in his room), and he looks at you in your beautiful form. You looked ethereal in the makeup, big eyes, and painted pretty lips. You turned to look at him, a grand grin painting your lips, and for whatever reason, a spoof of unspoken for confidence, Kaibara feels himself speaking before he can stop himself.

“Go on a date with me? Next weekend?”

You froze, before chuckling, lips splayed in a lazy grin, “you’d want to date a maid?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Kaibara watched as you flustered a bit, teeth tugging and tearing into your lower lip as you shook your head. “You’re a dork, Sen,” you push back a strand of hair as you stand up, “but let me think about it? As much as I love the idea of potentially being your girlfriend, I need to think about how you would feel about my job.”

And Kaibara smiled despite himself, his mind thinking about how sometimes shoujo protagonists often deny their own feelings at first. Not that his life was a shoujo manga anyways.

“I can do that.”

You laugh, the sound pretty and light on his ears, and you shake your head. Kaibara warmed at the sound and stood up too, already knowing that it was time for you to leave.

“Alright, but I must leave you now, my eternal love,” you grin, speaking with a mock accent. Your arms open for your goodbye hug he has since been accustomed to giving you when you both went separate ways. “I bid thee well when I’m away for the week.”

Ah yes, you would be gone for an entire week on account of a school trip you were taking.

“I do not know how I may live without you at my side, but I will try,” Kaibara spoke back with a low accent, too, his smile hidden in your neck as he hugged you near. “Have a good shift, and be safe on your trip.”

“Obviously!”

Two things about your job besides the obvious (that it was a maid cafe) that Kaibara knew.

1. You made a lot of money there.

He wasn’t all too sure as to why. He’s been to a maid cafe before and has definitely been called Kaibara-sama by pretty-faced females in French maid costumes. He knew that it was a popular place for otaku men and foreigners, but he also knew that pay range-wise, it wasn’t that much better than a typical waitress job.

2. Under no circumstances should he, or anyone for that matter, follow you to work or try to see you while you worked.

This made sense to Kaibara even if he didn’t particularly agree. There was no denying that he wanted to see you in a maid costume, he’d be a liar if he said otherwise, but he realized how embarrassing it could be for you. The fact that he knew where you worked was good enough for him.

Kaibara sighed, his body collapsing onto his bed, and he pulled out his phone. He checked the time on his phone and smiled, seeing that at this point, you were already at work because you sent a text saying that you had arrived. A small notification warning him that his phone was about to die pinged on his screen, and he frowned, hand reaching for his charger.

But instead of the white cord, his hand grasped onto the rose gold charging cable he knew was yours. You needed the charging cable; you were leaving on a trip basically right after work! Kaibara’s mouth twisted, weighing his options in his head. He knew that you had no other charging cables; you had a knack for breaking them without meaning to.

Shaking his head, he stood up.

This was about your charger for your phone.

It would be okay! He would simply step foot into the maid cafe, hand your coworker (he was hopeful he would see you) your charger, and leave! He wouldn’t stay! Nope! Not at all.

Kaibara nodded at his resolution and pocketed your charger before turning on his heel and marching out of his room.

It took a bit to get to the cafe.

Fushi’s Maid Cafe is what it was called.

Its hours of operation were quite weird, at the very least in Kaibara’s opinion. On its website, it said that it was open between 11 am and 5 pm, a reasonable range for its demographic; however, there were many times in which you would go in much later in the night. You were in a 10 pm until 3 am shift after all.

It was currently midnight as the trains were down for the night, and Kaibara had resolved to walk a near hour to drop off your charger. He didn’t really mind, especially if he sees you in that costume.

‘No!’ Kaibara thought, ‘you’re in a shoujo manga, not a hentai!’

He frowned, remembering to continue to claim that he was not living in a shoujo manga, and strode to the door. Confidence in every step, his game plan being repeated time and time again.

Kaibara swung open the door, readying himself to hear the onslaught of a chorus of ‘Welcome home, Master!’ but instead… oh…

He froze.

“F-Fukuda-samaaaaa!”

He blinked.

And as the door closed behind him, the most fucked out, blissful voice that he had only heard in his wettest of dreams called out, “Welcome home, Kaibara-sama…”

Kaibara locked eyes with you sitting alone at a table, your eyes laced with blissful lust, lips pouty and wet. The maid costume you had on exposed your beautiful breasts, shoving the curves, the tender flesh, and your sweat shined softly off it. Kaibara felt his breathing become shallower yet deeper as the sounds of meeting wet sex, lewd cries, the maids begging for more, demanding more. The clients — the masters — speaking in tongues as they fucked the women against the chairs, tabletops, anything in which they could balance.

Oh.

It made sense why you never wanted anyone to follow you to work.

Kaibara had been so caught up in the scene before him, the somehow sex maid cafe themed orgy (sexy party? But there was no group sex minus the man in the back fucking three maids!) that he hadn’t noticed you approach him. He tensed yet again when your hands fisted into his shirt, your warm breath brushing against his exposed collarbones, a curling sweetness emitting from your person and knocking his breath away yet again.

“Kaibara-sama, I never expected you to finally come. I’ve missed you,” you whine, pressing your body so close to his. Your stocking-covered thighs were brushing against his slowly awakening dick.

“Y-Y/n,” Kaibara stuttered, and he winced at how not part of the plan that was. “I-I thought this was a maid cafe?”

“We are a maid cafe,” you sigh as if he was asking an amusing yet dumb question. Your arms wrapping around his neck, and hips rolling against his. “We service our masters however they see fit! I wanna help Kaibara-sama feel good now that he’s here.”

Kaibara hisses under his breath, the feeling of your thigh rubbing against his growing dick insatiable as it is slightly uncomfortable due to the rough fabric of his jeans. “I’m here to drop off your charger! You forgot it! I-I’m leaving after this.”

You grin, your laughter bell-like in his ear as you nuzzle your nose against the smooth curve of his neck. “I left it there on purpose; I wanted Kaibara-sama to follow me here and see if he could still love me like this.” Goosebumps flash across his body, and Kaibara whines at the back of his throat as you begin walking backward, taking him to the table where you once sat. “I never wanted Kaibara-sama to see me like this, never wanted Kaibara-sama to see and know what a big whore I am before he confessed his feelings to me. But Kaibara-sama followed me to my work and didn’t run away… I’m so blessed.”

Your hands landed on his chest, and Kaibara yelped as you shoved him onto the spacious, comfortable chair before the table. Your teeth bit into your lower lip, eyes practically glowing with lust as a single sleeve began descending from your shoulder.

Kaibara suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“I’m at your service, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering. “How may I help you?”

Kaibara was going to respond eloquently and affirmatively that he didn’t need you to service him, but the Kaibara-sama sounded so lovely.

“I— um, well— I— ohmygoD!”

Kaibara nearly leaped out of his own skin as you pushed his knees apart and kneeled before him. Your eyes locked on his before glancing down to the prominent bulge in his pants. You grin, fingers stretching out and eagerly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his hard cock in less than ten seconds.

“Wowwww,” you breathe, eyes lighting up at the still hardening dick you were holding in your hands. “Kaibara-sama… you’re so big!”

You stared at the easily nine-inch dick in your hands, the slight curve to it making your core burn, and the bluish veins dancing under the skin making your mouth water. He was better than what you had expected him to be, and you wanted to know how he tasted, how he felt in your mouth and your pussy.

His erratic breathing caught your attention, and you looked back up at him, the scarlet on his cheeks, the expression that told you that he was battling instinct and morals. It was up to you, his maid, to make the decision for him, it seemed.

“I’ll take good care of you, Kaibara-sama,” you promised, heart hammering in your chest as you leaned forward, and without much of an issue, swallowed at least half of his cock.

Kaibara’s reaction is instantaneous; the near howl of pleasure and surprise ripping from his throat is a sound you’re almost unfamiliar with. He was such a serious man; even when he was comfortable and energetic, there was a sense of seriousness to him. There was a time, however, that you remember him being near-feral, demanding, excited. It was when there was a competition or when his feelings truly and utterly overcame him. You smiled around his cock, your teeth barely scraping the length of his cock, and giggled.

You overwhelmed him.

But there was no time for celebrations, no time to think about how you were serving your master to the best you could; his hands were suddenly fisted into your hair, and his hips rolled up into you, fucking your throat. Tears sprung in your eyes, the uncomfortable sensation of his cock flushes down your throat, pressing so heavy on your tongue.

“F-Fuck, this feels so fucking good!” Kaibara gasps, his eyebrows scrunching and hips lifting off the seat to continue face fucking you.

You relax your throat as best you can, chokes and gags pittering out of your mouth despite your best attempts. You hum, forcing your throat to allow the tip of his cock to go even further down your throat. Kaibara moans loudly, the noises he makes dripping down your back, making you feel sweaty, hot, and flush. His noises stir the heat between your thighs, making one of your hands go down beneath the layers of your puffy skirt to press to your throbbing clit, desperate to relieve the building, untouched tension.

“No!” Kaibara hisses, a single hand leaving your head to grab onto your wandering hand and bringing it back up. You yelp around his cock at the sudden movement, and you’re forced to come off his cock with haggling, rough coughs. Tears fall down your cheeks, and there's a thick line of saliva and precum trailing between the tip of his cock and the bottom of your lip. “You’re my maid, right?”

You cough, your lungs are burning with wrongly swallowed saliva, and the recent asphyxiation you had. Cocking your head to the side, you startle when he suddenly leans in near, pinching your cheeks between two fingers and drawing you near him.

“Answer me, y/l/n-chan.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeak, swollen lips trembling and your breathing hitching as you shiver. There was a fire in his eyes, a type of lust-fueled rage that made your skin tingle and crawl in the sweetest of ways. “I’m here to service Kaibara-sama.”

“Then why are you trying to relieve yourself?” he snaps, face so near you want to kiss him, and you whimper because his scolding and humiliation do nothing to ease the fire in your cunt… it only ravages it, letting it fester into a raging wildfire. “You’re here for me, your master, so fuck me — focus on just me.”

“Yes, Kaibara-sama!” you shiver, body tingling as you reclaim his cock in your mouth.

And unlike before, where Kaibara merely sounded like a man who was feasting upon the food of the gods, he sits up straighter, more commanding, a man who sat in his chair knowing his worth. He took on the deception of a master.

“Hold my dick with your hands,” Kaibara grunts, hands fisting the hair at the nape of your neck and forcing your head to tilt up towards him. “I can’t trust you.”

You nodded your head, hands coming up to hold onto the base of his cock that your mouth couldn’t take in. You were fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks doing all it could to please your master. You sucked his dick with the intention of promising him that you were worth it, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you wanted to consume.

“Such a good sluttly little maid,” Kaibara praised and degraded. His hands tighten almost painfully in your hair. “Taking my big cock so easily... Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing on other men.”

You make a noise that screams no.

You would never!

“Oh, no?” Kaibara grunts, his tongue licking out past his lips, and you shudder under his gaze. “Did my slutty fucking maid keep her mouth clean for me?”

You whine in approval, your lungs burning as he keeps you still on his cock, eyes deceivingly angry.

“Good… that just means I’ll have to fuck your whore pussy so good you’ll never ask or seek a new master,” Kaibara grinned, and your eyes widened.

It happened so fast, you were on the ground one second, and in the next, he had you pinned with your back against the table. It was almost uncomfortable, the edge of the table pressing into your spine, and your hands scrambled to latch onto his shirt as his jeans fell to his knees and his hands gripped the top of your maid outfit down, exposing your naked breasts.

His hands found a place on your breasts, warm and calloused fingers moving against smooth, soft skin. You moaned loudly, hips twitching unconsciously as he brushed against the swell of your nipple.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Kaibara groaned, fingers pinching roughly against your skin, and you warbled a scream. It wasn’t painful; it was pleasurable. Your head swam in a way it never had before when you had serviced other men, your clit was throbbing with an increase of needed attention, and your voice keened with his praise. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you — wanted this. I wanna make you feel so good, let your master fuck you however I want, y/l/n, I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

You nod your head, words failing you, and you watched Kaibara let out a heavy stream of air out of his nose, a near perverted, happy grin on his face.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, hands fisting into his shirt. “Ruin me. Claim me. Make me yours.”

His eyes flash dangerously.

“You were never not mine.”

And with a hand looping underneath your knee and with the sudden shove on your shoulder to knock you back, Kaibara pressed his cock against your wet, sopping entrance and shoved into you. You scream loudly, hands digging into his back as his cock enters you, unforgiving and demanding. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his hips as you shudder and shake, body twitching under the dull, hot stretch of him in you, your body sweating with the consuming heat and pleasure that his entrance gives you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squeal, fingernails digging into his skin, face burying into his neck. “Kaibara-sama is so big, he’s stretching me out so much, I’m— I can’t—”

Kaibara clicks his tongue, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, “Don’t say that, y/l/n-chan. Don’t ever tell your master that you can’t. You can do anything so long as I ask of it, right? I don’t like the word can’t.”

You whimper, head nodding in understanding as you shift your hips partly for needed friction, partly for relief.

“Stop that,” Kaibara orders, hands suddenly on your hips, preventing you from moving. “Ask permission from your master if you can move. You are here to serve me; you are not here for yourself. Do you understand?”

Your breathing is heavy, your legs shaking as you nod, breathlessly saying that you agree even though you need relief. You need to please your master; you have to make sure he continues to want your service: just you, no one else.

“Good girl,” he praises and somehow pushes even further into you.

You moan loudly at the movement, fingers digging into his skin yet again, and Kaibara laughed, teeth nipping at your collarbone. Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single happy noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“So tight, so hot,” Kaibara groans, his teeth dragging up and down your neck as his hips roll back and thrust back into you at his own pace. It’s steady, slow almost—a steady beat like a subtle heartbeat that kept you sane. “Don’t be quiet… I want to hear what I do to you; I want everyone to hear what I do to you.”

And a hand pinches your clit at the same time he slams roughly, with tremendous strength into you, and you wail.

It’s as if that wail was a starting sound, the sound that told Kaibara that he was in the clear to do whatever he wanted. To fuck you as he deemed, to make you fulfill your duty to providing and exceeding his every need and demand. He fucked into you, each snap of his hip, every roll, sending loud slaps through the room. The table creaked and shifted with every advancing move, and you rolled your hips up, fucking back into him, desperate to make his breath hitch and hiss in pleasure. His teeth buried into your skin, sucking and nibbling marks onto your skin, subtle and near bloody marks to show the world that you were his.

“Kaibara-sama!” you scream at a particular thrust, back arching wildly, eyes slamming shut as you moan to the heavens. “Kiss me please! Please kiss me—”

Kaibara’s mouth was over yours immediately. You cried into his mouth, shuddering and shaking as he continued his maddening dance with you, the endless, exciting cycle of tingling sensations and exploding warmth. His tongue entered your mouth, tasting of him, iron, and sweat. You moan louder, your velvet walls clenching and milking against his length. You don’t want to ever pull out; you want him, his seed, everything.

He kisses you like a madman, someone who believed that if he stopped, he would die.

You eat it up, returning it in full, unable to even believe you want him to stop.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Kaibara pants, hands coming back down to your hips and keeping them in place as he suddenly, powerfully, and somehow rhythmically pounding into you in short, strong fucks.

It’s overwhelming, the feeling of his girth stretching you out and abandoning you so quickly, the way his tip licks against your cervix, teasing up against your sweet spot. His face is desperate, needing, and so powerful that you cry to him, your master, your god. Your pussy is soaked with your essence, the sex spilling it all-around your thighs and on him, the wet squelching pounding making you embarrassed and so much more turned on. His teeth sink into your jaw, and your body is begging, twitching, the heat in your stomach overwhelming and no longer building but waiting for it to be unleashed.

“K-Kaibara-sama!” you cry, a warning for the near-inevitable.

But you wail his name, the electricity in your veins and blood scorching the levels of your skin, and Kaibara takes that as a reason to do more, to fuck more. He drills into you at a new speed, a new power. Your head is swimming in the delirium, and your body trembles, the words “more, faster, harder” spilling from your mouth without consent, but tears build in your eyes as his fingers seem to almost spin against your clit and you scream.

You cum loudly, aggressively, all your energy destroyed as you hit the high. Kaibara moans against your bruised and marked skin; the warmth heat of spilling seed expelling into your cunt is a sensation that drives you insane as he collapses his weight on top of you. You’re breathless, speechless, a part of you unable to comprehend that your crush had fucked you before he had kissed you, that he was the best fuck you had, and how this man wanted you back.

It’s quiet for a bit, the two of you laying on the table as cum dripped out of your cunt, and he rested his head between your exposed breasts.

“So,” you finally rasp, a soft grin coming onto your face. “You have my charger?”

“18000 yen?!” Kaibara barked, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the older lady at the counter who was billing him for his session.

“We are a sex club, Kaibara-sama,” she sighed. “Not only did you have a three-hour session with our most requested maid, but you also marked the merchandise.”

“I couldn’t?!” Kaibara snapped but cooled down almost immediately when the lady pointed at a: ‘Fines for every mark on the maids!!!!’ sign. “Oh.”

“Take it from my paycheck,” you sing from beside him, bundled up in a coat, the marks he gave you completely hidden now. It was the end of your shift and closing time, after all. “I got him riled up without telling him the rules.”

Kaibara chuckled as you arranged a proper check for him.

He thought about what he thought of his life, and while he couldn’t say that his life wasn’t a hentai right now, he knew, without a doubt, that life is not a shoujo manga.

#kaibara x reader #kaibara smut #bnha x reader #bnha #mha

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ficsnroses · 4 years ago

Text

An Even Exchange II - John Wick x Reader

series summary (oneshots, can be read as stand alone) : you sell your virginity to john wick. part 1

summary : john calls you for the first time after you agree to become his to use, whenever he pleases. 6.1k words.

warnings : smut, consensual sex. rough oral sex [male receiving]. *the lightest* bondage. x f! reader.

notes : hope you enjoy this! rushed through this part a little bit because I’m really excited to write that thing i wanted to write for this in chapter 3...wink. I did edit this at 2:30am after finishing studying, please bear with me if there are mistakes! feedback so so welcome. ily xx

“When I need you, you come. No questions,

no excuses.”

In the late of the eve, John had called her.

His contract, she’d accepted.

Short, the conversation entailed none more than his quiet words, confident, assured. “I need you tonight.” He’d spoken, rich, beautifully rung off his deep tongue, the sound as smoky as ash in his throat.

Part of her wonders, ponders about this mysterious man. Handsome, built on perfect shape, he’d surely have no trouble finding someone to satisfy his every need. Perhaps, someone who could offer him more than she could.

He’d been the first man she’d slept with; he’d taken her virginity. Surely, he could find someone far more experienced to take care of him.

John’s home is large; extravagant. Crisp white beams and shining glass windows. A large yard, tall built trees generously speckled upon the estate. Surely, John Wick is a lavish man, equipped with more than enough financial security.

He did buy her.

Walking further, the night sky gleams, the moon glows in cold warmth.

Cold warmth.

Bittersweet.

After the night at the hotel, she hadn’t been summoned by John yet. A loch 4 days later, his call had beckoned her in the late hour of the night. The thought of what she was walking into right now bites in her head, gnaws, the ponderings growing with each heavy step.

She wasn’t scared of John; she knew he wouldn’t treat her awfully.

If the night at the Continental had proven anything at all, it was the assuring fact that John would respect her, her boundaries. He’d use her for his every need, yet never without consent.

Something special seems to grow inside John; she’d learned that in a mere three hours spent with his manhood curled between her legs.

John fucked her twice more that evening, only bid goodnight when he’d had to call it a night, sleep dense on his sex satisfied form. A taxi swept her home that evening, dropped her safely in her home, John’s proposition heavy on her mind,

Her answer yes, even heavier.

With each step, the thought of what would be to follow exhausts her, even before arrival. Beneth her feet, the path seems to crumble a little more; distracted, restless, she finds herself unsure of what to expect.

Reading into her own emotions, thoughts, feelings had been tough over the course of the prior four days. Between the sheets, John was a force to not be reckoned with. He’d shown her the fucking stars, left her yearning for more through the entire duration of the evening. Kind, respectful, reserved, his naturally dominant nature only intrigued.

She found herself marvelling more and more about the man with the bolded tattoos, the soft, mocha hair that curtains his dark eyes, the broad scars and firm mauve bruises that littered his skin. She wonders if somewhere under a hard exterior, was something softer.

Wonders, muses, guesses.

His cocoa kissed hair falters in hues; strands lengthy, messier than the night at the Continental. A candle burns in his long, lavish hallway; a flickering flame, steady, stirring. He’d greeted her, a nod of his head, reserved, his demeanour professional.

“Can I get you anything?” He’d asked, voice firm, yet held with that familiar comfort that had drawn her to him nights ago. He was assertive, reserved, yet still,

kind. Had she met him on the glittering streets of busy New York, perhaps ran into him at a heavy trafficked coffee shop, struck up a conversation of how she’d seen his familiar coffee hued hair and mahogany eyes seldom in the secluded walls of the Continental, she’d never assume.

She’d never guess,

that sex was all he wanted. Something physical, was all he’d engrossed.

She’d gotten comfortable in the silence he’d hold, his persona exclusive. Nonetheless, the most she’d heard out of his gravelly throat were the occasional grunt of pleasure, soft, muffled moans laced with a hoarse undertone emitting the air as he’d be thrusting selfishly on top of her. To his question, she returns. “I’m alright, thank you.”

He nods, as she follows him up the profligate wooden stairs. Something inside her builds, the striking view of his toned back and muscled features tensing when he leads the way. His home is quiet, and much to her surprise, it looks like a home. Flowers in vases, paintings of daisies and sunflower blooms wreathed to tall white walls, crisp and snowy.

Flowers bloom in his home, solace currents.

She’d never thought, that John Wick, lives among pretty flowers, that bloom.

From behind as she follows up the stairs, he looks towering, strong, defined.

She stares, and she stares, and she thinks. That the evening would end, with this nerve-wrackingly gorgeous man, nestled, buried between her legs.

The top of the stairs arrive, and with them, a new found suffocation.

Shackled with dread, a foreign feeling prevails to the sight, perhaps astonishment, bewilderment. And even through the ice of his reserved, quiet demeanour, she’d swore she’d seen a flicker in his compose. A halt of movement, as he’d glanced their way as well, despite best attempts to avoid.

Pictures scatter scarcely along the crisp white walls; John, and a woman. Photographs of a couple, happily in love, diffuse the walls, in the home of the man who taken her purity not long ago.

Proof of something bigger disperses the walls; stipples the walls where she’d soon offer her body,

to the same man who’d looked smitten in them.

The joints in her neck creak almost glancing their way, her veins course with a poison of something dreadful. Brittle fingers mould along her sides, taking place in frantic burden.

Intrusion; the feeling of being out of place.

This room is smaller, emptier, colder.

A single king bed presents against the wall, center of the room, silk sheets and monumental pillows. John’s back tenses as he paves the way, perhaps a drain of the way her eyes held thick with worry, seeing the sights of the previous hall. His hands fall rested to sturdy sides, breathe collected, expression grim.

She knew less things about John than the amount of hours they’d spent together.

She’d fucked him more times than things she’d known of his personal life.

And with the realization fading in; of John being a stranger, with his own life, his own battles, she wonders. Wonders if this was wrong. If she was breaking a house, fueling the destruction of a home. The thoughts race, the worries set in. Her bones carry a weight that hadn’t been present when she’d entered the lavish home; the grimmer lights of the dimly lit hallway matching those of her weary mind.

A sharp edge cuts. Something cuts, and cuts into her, twisting uneasiness.

“I’m not married.” John’s deep voice interjects her ponder, voice harder than before, and a shiver falls, cascades her spine; and it has nothing to do with the frigid air of bedroom. His attention turns to her, only brief, eyes only finding her face for a mere second or two, before finding more comfort diverted to the hardwood below. “I’m not in a relationship,” He exhales, and she’d swore the lines of his forehead tensed with each syllable. “This…isn’t wrong. Rest assured.” He adds, and the silence that follows her gentle nod of head was near deafening. She’d listened to the erratic, uneven beat of her own heart to his statement, a dense swallow in her throat when his figure advances toward the bed further.

John had probably only communicated a meagre 100 words to her, and she ached to hear more. His broad, tattooed back holds a story she knows not all ears can retain. The whispers are real; the stories had made their way around.

John Wick hadn’t become what he is over the sun bidding goodbye to a dark night.

A man of focus, as greatly as him, is conditioned. Taught, hardened, habituated to kill.

The questions, she knew would remain just those.

Questions,

that John would never entertain. This was a business deal; and to his personal details, she had no right.

For a moment, he stops. His head turns slow, his reserved features hold the weight of a million words, pent up frustrations pleading to be let out. Their eyes meet across the room. She doesn’t understand the look in his eyes. And out of all the things she’d sworn he’d wanted to say,

One stays imminent.

Need. He needs her.

He called her here today because he needs her. Needs a vessel, a gateway to relief.

Her job is to take care of him, sexually. To make him feel good. She stands, observing the way his tall, dark frame reminds her of what was to come. He’d mould their bodies together as one so expertly, so skilfully,

John was all she’d ever tasted; the first, and only man she’d ever let touch her.

And the worst part of it all, was that she was unsure, she could ever let another do the same again.

John’s thrusts would leave her weak, the sex was something holy in its own right, and she, was falling hopelessly addicted with each session. Hopelessly intoxicated by the way he’d make her feel so, so fucking good, when it was her job to satisfy him.

His low, rich voice breaks the secure silence.

“Come here.” John beckons, peeling back the silken sheets of the bed. The week at glance had offered him nothing but dire, bone chilling work. Missions complete, exhaustion prevailed. The usual amber tones held in a tall glass of Bourbon compared none to the waves of relaxation she could provide him.

He’d been craving more. Physical satiation. In dire need of long repose, John found himself unwilling to wind down with anything other than her.

Tonight, he’d find relief inside her. His nirvana would come buried inside her warm, heavenly haven reserved solely, for him.

her buyer.

A heavy inhale cascades his lungs as he watches her, drawing closer. He toys, caressing the light threads of her top between his fingers deliberately, and a pitch black smoke pools his eyes, the weight of his member between the seams of his pants falling heavier, and harder, and thicker by the growing second. “I want this off you.” His smoothly rich voice leaks, and his hand travels, trailing, smoothing over the fabric rested to her figure.

Her throat goes dry. Anticipation builds. He toys with the hem of her blouse as she stares into his eyes; his watching the way her hands peel the textile off her figure. She needs him. Perhaps, more than he needs her.

John sighs, breath heavy, perhaps flustered by the rush of blood to his manhood at the sight of her body; something about the way her curves and dips fall so effortlessly to her frame, the way her long sleeve bodycon dress moulds, seducing each inch of her femininity under the warm bedroom lights.

Captivatingly beautiful. Enough to make any man weak in his knees; an enchantress.

His newly purchased toy.

Watching intently, a captivated John barely bites his lip in amusement, watching the skimpy fabric peel off her frame, revealing delicate lace shielding devourable womanhood. “Mhmm…” John barely sighs, the ring of a rich hum brewing in his throat as his eyes gloss, drink in the supple skin of her hips, the tender swell of her breasts under the lace. His hand travels nonchalantly to his throbbing manhood, palming tenderly with chocolate eyes firm to her body, and she’d swore.

In his head, he’d already undressed her a thousand times. His hands had already roamed, delighted each inch of her skin.

Leisurely, a sturdy hand falls inside John’s pants, his palm wrapping around the weighty shaft of his cock, rising eagerly to the thought

of what he’d do to her

tonight.

Pulling out his cock to the sight of her, half bare, awaiting his instruction, he opts for a seat to the Californian king, wanting so desperately to see her in all her glory. “Take it all off.” John affirms, an order she was willing to oblige.

John was the first to see her body fully on display, the first to set gaze to what only she had seen formerly. His prying gaze sends a pool of warmth, shivering goosebumps on her silken skin. Something about the way his gaze alone makes her feel so desired.

He sits, a heavy hand rested to his thigh, the other wrapped loosely around his swollen shaft, stroking, and stroking as his eyes watch, lock to her heavenly frame as she strips for him. Bulging veins throb thick in his dick, sensitive to his fingers touch, delicate to the sight of her unravelling, a gift just for him. “Beautiful…” He whispers, merely under constrained breath to the striking view, gruff toned, yet velvety as he watches her fingers un-clasp dainty bra hooks, allowing the textile to fall off her smooth shoulders so seductively. Her skin shines under warm light, and his hand unknowingly tightens around his base, eyes taut to her skin.

Right now, in this moment, everything he saw in front of him belonged rightfully, only to him. She belongs to him. For him to touch, for him to use as pleased. “Fuck…” A burning John mutters under his breath; a fire rummages inside his belly, the pent up frustration of a load inside him pleading to be released. With a stocky hand still offering tender strokes to his member, his voice gruffs, a deep baritone searing through the silent atmosphere. “Come here,” He punctuates. “On your knees, in front of me.”

Shivers emit down her spine, and her eyes find the floor, unable to connect to his just yet.

John was moral, humane. Yet still, he was her buyer. Surely, he wouldn’t hurt her or make her do anything she didn’t please; as confusing as it may have been, she wasn’t uncomfortable around him.

But she was nervous. Nervous that she wouldn’t do good. Nervous that she’d fall short of what he’d wanted. A sum as great as what John was paying her would break most people.

She finds herself pondering, why he’d chosen her.

“Show me how deep you can go.”

Like a lightening bolt. His voices come in crashes, pounding like a lightening bolt. Something about the way he speaks to her.

The hardwood beneath her feet was cool, she’d known her knees would bruise for him soon. A warmth drills inside, anticipation of what was to come builds, and she thinks. She marvels,

She muses.

Of how her owner would use her tonight. Of what he’d want her to do.

Following suit, she collects herself, kneeling in front of John on the bedroom floor, his menacing cock sprung erect a mere few inches away from her face. John allows it to fall out his palm, opting to caress the ends of his muscle toned white shirt, drawing it over his head, revealing that familiar, beautifully toned torso. Bold tattoos, complimented by fresh, deep purple bruises;

They hadn’t been there the last time they’d fucked.

And she remembers, under the dimly lit lights, the ink that stands bold to his back is a story; that perhaps his lips could dare not hold. She still wonders. She still guesses. She guesses, she guesses.

Tension tightens in his muscles, darkness ripples in his eyes.

John needed her sex badly, direly. The lonely depths of his desolate palm hadn’t sufficed since he’d been reminded of what human connection could do; how holy finishing inside a woman felt, paralleled to grey tissues and empty walls.

“Put those lips on me, sweetheart.” John’s voice illuminates.

Heavy curtains hide what went on inside the dimly lit bedroom. Veiled the way they sin in secret; Hid the way he was slowly creating a realm; one she’d touched not long ago.

One where only her and him were real. Pleasure was all that triumphed, his body the religion, and the alter was her mouth.

With cold hardwood underneath, she sinks to her knees in front of him, studying the way his thick hand holds his member, urging towards her lips; within seconds, she obeys. Lingering his length, she encircles his tip, shallowly taking the thickness into her mouth. Within seconds, every throbbing vein on his cock glides easily through her lips, cascading over her tongue, held by hallow, tightened cheeks. Tightening on her shining tresses, John’s head falls back in pure, unaltered, pleasure. His eyes close, his body tingles, the feel of her wetness swirling, exploring his shaft take over.

And in her mouth, he melts. He melts, and tensions fade.

“Fuck…” John sighs, eyes fluttering shut with each tender bob. She goes slow at first, offering kind, nervous bobs. His teeth grit, the sounds of sloppy slickness current through his ears, building inclination. Slow, steady, his palm trails, encapsulating around her hand as she works his length, bringing it his thick base. “Remember how I showed you, use your hands on what won’t fit.” He instructs, gently encouraging her to jerk his remaining length. She obliges, watching the way his chestnut eyes hold a familierness within them; despite being his, John treats her kindly.

Treats her human.

“That’s it.” He manages, groaning quietly under his breath as he gazes her, on her knees with his cock sheathed in her throat. It had been a while since anyone had taken him this way;

since he’d allowed anyone to take him this way, after... her.

Hel.

“Tighter, darling.” He breathes, tightening his grip to her messy hair. “Look up, eyes on me.”

Slowly, steadily, she bobs further, taking more and more, pushing herself. John hired her for him to use, to please himself. Yet she finds herself, pushing her own limits to please him. To be good for him.

With his cock throbbing in her mouth, she wonders; what it was, about the man with the bolded ink, the broad back and toned muscles.

Flattening her tongue over his length, she feels his palm in her hair, guiding gently, up and down, up and down on his painfully erect member, low groans and throaty moans leaving his lips in a delightful hum. As she ventures further, gliding more and more and more of him through her wet haven, choked gasps begin to emit, John’s bulge throbbing relentlessly now, weightier on her tongue. Punctuated by praise, and nonchalant breaths, she feels his spare hand move, planting to her bare breast as she continues to move. Tenderly, softly, his thumb swirls her hardened nipples, massaging, fondling the soft swell of her supple chest in his palm.

No man had ever touched her where John does, with each intimate stroke, each lustful touch, he marks her. Marks her as his.

The sounds of her mouth, they kiss his ears; the sinful, sloppy, wet sounds, the slurps, the vibrations against his cock offer an unholy wish.

He wanted more. He needed more.

With the baritone of his voice searing her ears, his question comes as she continues to move, allowing his tip to hit the back of her throat with slow, stable bobs. With a heavy hand travelling up, planting to the nape of her neck, John signals her, ceasing her devour of his erection. Muscles tensing, she gazes the way his biceps fall beautifully firm, his beard lays perfectly groomed, a darkness rippling in his chocolate orbs. Reaching forward, his warm thumb brushes over her ever so slightly buzzing bottom lip, voice deep, ringing with currents of dominance, assertion. “Do you trust me?”

As if habitually, she feels herself nodding slightly in return. Without thought, without said. She nods, and she stares, and she stares, and she stares, feeling his gaze sink into her. Without a moment to waste, she watches John raise off the mattress, opting for a stance towering over her, leaving her still on her knees, his cock dangerously close to her mouth still, glistening with her wet saliva falling in strings off his shaft. Gazing, she swallows a dense lump, watching the way he takes hold of an intimidatingly large erection, guiding it back to the security of her lips, swirling his head around the plump of her pink stained mouth. With a hand firm to the back of her head, he pushes a conserved amount of his length back into her mouth, his hand that had been holding his cock finding the back of her head, accompanying his other.

His voice flows through the room, heavy, shallow. “If it’s too much, squeeze. I’ll stop.”

And without warning, he sinks deeper, and deeper, and deeper into her throat. Only stopping when he knows she won’t be able to fit more. His hips rock, slow at first, his hands keeping her head situated still in place, slowly beginning to move faster, faster, harder, quicker. Incoherent gags fall her throat as the realization of what he’d begun overtakes her.

John, was fucking her mouth.

Exactly how he pleased,

however, he’d want.

Loosening her jaw, her hands plants firm to his callous, large thighs, feeling each vein, each curve of his dick plummeting across her wet, soaking tongue. Completely at his mercy, the sound of hallow gags and a mouth full of cock impend the room, gasps for breath muffled by his immense size sizzling in her throat as he thrust, and thrusts, channelling his needy pace into the vessel of her mouth. Hot tears char against warmth skin, his thick balls thudding against her chin as eager hips buck impatiently into her mouth, harsh praises and tender approval falling his deep baritone.

“You’re alright, darling.” He allows, warm thumb brushing, wiping away the sear of sweltering tears hot on her cheeks. “I won’t hurt you.” Unchecked tears and muffled moans follow suit, peppering the air as he thrusts, pulsating, throbbing, twitching in her mouth.

Bliss overtakes, John’s each nerve snapping, tingling with blissful warmth. She’s working wonders on his cock, louder, courser moans surface his throat, eyes fluttering in and out of light as his head falls back, diminishing into the feel of her. He shudders, shivering with each dip; the warmth, the tightness unlike anything he’s ever felt before. She, was quite literally, something else. He thinks to himself, he dreams to himself, of how he’d went so long, without someone like her. With each sink, his jaw tightens, goosebumps peppering his skin, chest heaving as she tries her best to hold in stifled gags; his hands eventually moving to cup her soft cheeks on either side as he drills into her mouth, chasing ecstasy,

-until with an abrupt pull, her head yankers back in his grip, silky strings of saliva connecting to his tender length; his cock falling out her mouth still hard. Still filled with need. Feeling a mess, her brows thread in confusion, eyes wet, lips seeping the wet pool of slick he’d created inside. Her skin singes, a char in her eyes from the burn he’d left.

“On the bed.” He eventually ordered, flustered from a rush of his own paradise. His cock aches, his body yearns for the walls that squeezed, nestled around his member nights ago. If there’s one thing John knew, it was exactly that.

His release, needed to come from being inside her. She was far too heavenly to finish elsewhere. She obeys, finding place on the silky bed, supple skin and exposed womanhood making her appear all the more appealing. John’s member twitches to the sight of her; tantalizing, a sex siren, and she didn’t even know. “I want to tie your hands.” John speaks, ravishingly rich. “Do you consent?”

She’d nodded. She wasn’t even aware, when the words swirled inside her head, and when her hazed conduct nodded diligently.

She’d nodded, to be truly, at his mercy. She’d watched him, collect rope from a wooden beside drawer, positioning himself behind her, gently pulling her wrists together. He restrains them, fastening an knot, leaving her brewing with anticipation of what he’d do next.

Excitement, eagerness to be fucked selfishly by him.

“Our contract will be regular.” John adds, towering tall beside the bed. Fishing a condom from the box, he slides it onto his thick manhood, his gaze turning locked to her body spread for his taking in the sea of sheets. “If you’re comfortable taking oral contraception, I’d encourage it.”

The pill. He wants her to get on the pill.

She nods. She nods to all the propositions that spill his lips. She nods, and she nods.

In his nude glory, she observes his body, once again. His, was a body she adored, awaited. Mammoth length, finished with that familiar rosy tip. The thick veins, the sturdy shaft, the dark bush that jungles around, protecting the treasure that was his beautiful cock. She swallows, she gulps in the glory, and her mound tingles when he climbs on the mattress, the weight of his body sinking into the foam. Carefully, feverishly, he peels her bottoms off, a pair of sexy lace underwear matching the bra she’d removed earlier. With thick fingers and a callous hand, he palms her pussy, spreading the nectar that seeped for his taking over needy folds. He spreads her legs open further, palms placed under her gorgeous thighs; opening her up just enough to see a sheen of slick arousal coating her cunt, paired with a salacious sight of her sensitive clit, too.

With his body hovering over her, John takes in the delicious sight of her body underneath him, bound, at his mercy, for his taking. Hard, deeply shaded nipples, satin skin, plump on her chest, her breasts swell so deliciously; he finds it impossible to resist. With his cock sheathed heavy in his hand, John offers himself slow, prepping tugs as his lips trail, sucking, leaving a lone, delicate mark painted into the sensitive skin. She gasps at the pressure, wincing almost, swallowing thickly when she glances between their bodies, gazing the sight of his thickness erect in his hand, preparing to take her.

With two sturdy fingers glossing over her, he gazes the slickness; the moisture gathered between her folds, all for him.

All for him, to sink into. With his hand palming her pussy delicately, his voice interrupts, deeply rich, reminding. “Tell me to stop if you need.” She nods, remembering, of the way he’d said the same the first time he’d used her. John Wick could ruin her, if he wanted.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. She wonders where this humility comes from, how it lives in him. Yet, she keeps mum. She wont ask, she won’t intrude. This contact signifies merely, an exchange.

An even exchange; for him to get what he craves, for her to get what she needs.

Without much warning, John’s weight sinks into her entrance, the throbbing veins brushing her sensitive walls, quelling an obscene desperately muffled moan from her mouth, eyes widening, arm coming in rescue to cage in yelps and whimpers that threatened to fall.

The burn. God. God. Why does it hurt so much, at first?

The electrifying sensation of John’s cock burying into her overtakes; the searing burn of the stretch he leaves behind unmatchable, soliciting sinful whines from her body below. With her eyes falling shut, and her walls clenching around him, the sounds of John’s haste picking up fills the room, his hips eagerly pounding her tight, delicate pussy seconds in. John’s lust filled, dilated eyes gaze down, his hands holding her hips secure in place as lewd moans caged by her arm over her face barely whimper; his cock pulsing inside her cushy walls, grinding against that oh so tender spot between her legs. With his fingers threatening to paint bruises into her skin from his delicate hold, she feels John’s grip on her waist tighten, rapt with desire. Sucking in a sharp breath, his hips pick up pace, groaning quietly to the feel of her pussy, and he thinks-

Her pussy was made just for him; perfectly mould for him, to indulge in.

Her breasts bounce beautifully, her body jerks with each volatile thrust, his need cultivates further. The sounds of his balls smacking against her womanhood send him further, the symphony of her stifling yelps and imprisoned whimpers begging to be heard by his ears as he works her. “You...” John breathes, hips snapping relentlessly, animalistic into her as he grips her tight. “You don’t have to stay quiet.” He clears, confirming. Although this was an exchange for him to receive mind blowing sex which he so desperately needed, he didn’t mind her enjoying herself. In fact, he preferred it. He wanted it. Her moans of pleasure would confirm; that she was alright.

That this was alright.

With a nod of her head, Y/N removes her arm from the cusp of her face, eyes fluttering shut, only opening scarcely when John’s pace never slows. Panting above her, John rolls his hips aggressively, biting his lip to the sight of her unravelling underneath him, and she trembles.

With her eyes closed, she finds herself lost. Lost in the feel of John fucking her so deliciously, so intoxicatingly, the perfect amount of pain and pleasure. The pleasure that pushes her over, the pain of his godly size that only intensifies it. Her back arches, legs practically falling limbless. Sweat trails down their backs, and they release shuddering breathes.

The sound of skin assaulting skin fills the room, and when her nimble fingers crave to sink into his skin, the pressure builds further, anticipation darkening within her. The pleasure is so intense, she practically screams, beautifully frustrated, begging, pleading for her tied up hands to be free only to clench onto John. She felt herself, craving to hold onto John. A mixture of their juices coat her thighs, John’s member glistening under the lights from the sheen of her arousal. The smell of sex floods around them, the heat shared between their bodies sending a turmoil erupt. Her toes curl, and each nerve inside John builds and builds, on the brink of release; he feels silky drops of pre cum spill inside the barrier of the condom between them, he only wished it could add to the heaven of wetness she’d made, just for him. Squirming underneath him, she practically whines from the force, yelps, moans, tightens her cunt around him tightly as he continues to rummage into her body, allowing those familiar, boiling hot tears to warm up her cheeks from the sheer heaven he’s channeling into her. “John…” She gasps, desperately attempting to gather her choked breaths. Her voice breaks, and she inhales a shuddering draw of air. “Oh…John!”

He feels himself slam into her harder, and harder, melting inside her. It had been far too long since a woman screamed his name. Far too long since he’d had the pleasure of sharing release with someone. He swallowed every noise to leave her lips greedily, and she shuddered against the burning feel of him drilling into her heat, over and over, and over, and over. Enticing whispers of praise for her body fall off his lips, as if flowers to her ears.

She’d never had anyone before John; the whispers of him voicing his pleasure from her only sent her further into oblivion. She feels herself growing tender, more tender by the second, the pressure building inside her core preparing for a release she knew would show her the stars; John had done the same only nights ago when they’d first exchanged service. He shudders, shivers, groans in his deliciously deep, bass heavy voice; feeling her squeeze around him harder when she screams his name a final time, her orgasm washing over in waves of cloudy, beautiful bliss.

His chest heaves, rhythmically, lust drunk and buried deep inside her, he huffs, pants above her, chasing his release, when it builds just to the brim, finally, desperately pulling himself out of her soaking cunt, the dainty condom harshly peeled off his dangerously firm, mighty cock, discarded hastily to the bin below.

Bringing his hand to jerk, tugging his harshly erect, tender cock, he watches her, flustered, skin sticking with sweat, cheeks warmed with after sex bliss. A euphoria has washed over her form, a paradise they’d created together; and he warns. He warns quick, before chasing his own. “Open your mouth, sweetheart.” He breathes through shuddering inhales, still jerking his sensitive bulge, watching her oblige, understanding exactly what he wanted.

He’d ripped off his condom tonight, before cumming. And suddenly, she realizes why.

John Wick, wanted to finish on her face.

With her mouth open, she anticipates. Another first added to her list of firsts when it came to her sex life. Another first, that came with John. John Wick; the mysterious, reserved John, who she knew next to nothing about. John Wick, the man she knew she’d have many more sexual firsts with.

And with his cock spilling release, she feels him inch closer to her face, unloading milky ropes of slick, glossy hot cum over her features; a considerable amount layering the insides of her mouth.

His cum, all over her mouth. Her face, tainted with his seed. Her hands, tied by his desire. Her body aches fiercely, her pussy remembers the force he’d channeled into her, and pleads for more. With his cum painted to her face, she feels for the first time.

She is his. She is his.

With a final grunt, John falls beside her on the bed, catching his own breath, and she sighs briefly, still flustered, at the feeling of lightness in her chest; vision growing fuzzy. Her head turns to the gray ceiling above, panting blissfully, stuck in the euphoria he built around her.

This world John was creating, this realm they both would exchange, was becoming something beautifully intoxicating. Something she wanted more now than, before. Turning her head slight, she’d barely noticed the shift of weight off the bed to her side as he’d untied her, his sharp, regal profile distant now as he grabs spare towels from the bedside. Laboured breaths calm immediately, easily smoothing out into an even rhythm.

Even the sound of his breath, flowing,

Sends a shiver flutter inside her.

Slowly, gently, he hands one to her, his naked form still in full grandeur as his buttery voice speaks, snapping her out of oblivion. “You’re alright?”

She only nods, connecting her gaze to him as she sits up, elbows base on the bed as she holds her weight up. Nude, the familiar blush of being completely naked in front of him brings a warmth to her cheeks, and she shies, crossing her legs closed, wiping her face of what he’d left behind.

John watches. He watches, and drinks her in. He’d gone so long without sex, without real touch.

But now, he had her. He had her service. He watches the way she swallows a lump in her throat, vapour dotted across her skin from their exertion.

She was gorgeous; beautiful, not that he had any right to think that. He’d only had right to her service. Her amazing, mind blowing service. The same service, that had kept him up nights prior, lost in reveries of the way she’d made him feel.

Unlike anything that could be moulded into coherent words. A goddess in her own right.

He finds himself, far more relaxed, relieved than he’d been before she’d accepted his request for her to come. In the moment, relieved, sex gratified, John thinks to himself. Thinks of how lucky he would be from now on, to have her

whenever

He craved. His proposition had been spontaneous; a mere proposal after their first meeting; his sex clouded and intensely satisfied mind propelling him to offer. Now, after hearing her approval, her willingness for their exchange being a regular occurrence bound by contract, John electrifies.

He thrills, he rouses. His cock pulses to the mere sight of her in his guest room bed, beautifully crafted. His pensive gaze soaks into her; nude, jaded, the beauty of her splendour.

The beauty of her body. The sinful sight of her holy, delectable body. His eyes move to her pussy, glistening with product of what he’d made gush from her; a symbol of what was his. Her pussy, belonged to him-

for the duration of the contract, for as long as he owned right to her service.

He glides a shirt over his torso, a pair of grey boxers to accompany. The thought of a crisp pour of amber bourbon kissing his tongue sounds divine; a post sex drink to level nerves. Calm, collected, he gazes intently the way her sex smitten body positions, the trance dying down, her haze still thick, her skin vulnerable to prying eyes.

“I want you in the shower.” John speaks, rhythm of his tone reverted back to the reserved, assertive tenor. “Have yourself ready, please. I’ll be back in 15 minutes.”

He’d be back for more. He wanted her, more.

Brittle fingers.

Insignificant, little, brittle fingers.

They’d begged to reach for him, pleaded to touch him the entire time he fucked her mindlessly.

Something fitted across his expression when he’d turned to face her briefly, eyes flickering down, and up absently. Something wrote in his features; something she wanted more and more each time their bodies became one.

He, was her first.

And she, wanted him, to be her last.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

#john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic

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iwajima · 4 years ago

Text

poor little baby. (kuroo tetsurou x f!reader)

KINKTOBER 2020 DAY 1

summary: ever since kuroo saw you talk and get close with his colleague at a dinner event, he’s been teasing and edging you for a week.

warnings: smut, edging, slight!teasing & jealousy

status/word count: unedited / 2.2k

a/n: idk why I made kuroo such a dick, i’m sorry- also i kinda went overboard with this one

Neither of you wanted to go to Kuroo’s company’s dinner event, you both would rather spend time alone with each other. Your expectations for a boring event was rather the opposite, when you found yourself in an interesting and long conversation about art with Kuroo’s colleague. You found commonality through it and found out he too had a hobby of painting.

Kuroo shot daggers towards the man from afar. However, they went unnoticed. Unfortunately, he was stuck with his boss and a couple of other people who were talking about how the women in the company were rather eye-pleasing. Quite unprofessional and disgusting. His jaw clenched when he sees you both laugh. The way you attentively listened and looked at him with big eyes made him regret coming to this place. Had you both stayed home, he probably would be drilling you into the sheets and make you cum over and over for him. The thought of the things he’d do to you sent his blood down to his cock, making him more uncomfortable.

It was his final straw when the man placed a hand onto your shoulder as you both laugh at something that was probably stupid. He marched towards you, ignoring the questioning look and presence of his colleague.

“Kuroo-san! Care to join us? y/n here was talking about her embarrassing high school experiences.” He did it again. He placed his hand on your shoulder when he referred to you. He knew you were his girlfriend, it was like he was taunting him.

“Is that so?” He said in the most bitter voice.

“Tetsurou, are you okay? You seem tense.” You say when he remains silent. His stare at his oblivious colleague was broken when you softly reached for his hand.

“We’re going leaving, sweetie.” He dragged you home without saying any formal goodbyes, which made you worry for him.

Everything went by so fast. First you were in the silent car and now you’re against his apartment wall, cheek pressed on the cold surface with his knee between your thighs. You bit your lip, you knew what was going to happen and what he was going to do to you. Your immediate thought was that he was going to fuck you into oblivion but your jaw dropped at his words.

“Did you enjoy talking to Takuto for an hour, did you enjoy flirting with him hm? Guess what baby, you’re not going to cum anytime soon. How does two weeks sound?” He sneered into your ear, making you shudder at the tone of his voice.

“Tetsuro-”

“Kuroo-san.” He cut you off, brushing your hair off your shoulder to place soft kisses along it.

You let out a breath when he reaches the shell of your ear and leaves a lick. Your legs wanted to give out but tried your best preventing it when he pressed his knee against your core, making your eyes flutter shut.

“K-kuroo-san… Please, I promise I wasn’t flirting. We were just having a friendly conversation.” You tried to calm him down but that only made him even more mad.

He turned you around before tossing you over his shoulder. You yelp, however you didn’t put up much of a fight. When he reaches your shared bedroom, he tosses you onto the bed. He wasted no time in pulling down your bra and dress strap, mouth immediately finding itself onto your sensitive nipple. His rough hand slid from the valley of your breasts to your other shoulder before removing the straps too and fondling with your left tit.

You were so lost from the feeling that you did even notice him snaking his hand down over your panties, finger moving up and down your slit. He smirked at your moans, thinking about how you were going to beg him to touch you again when he leaves you dry and high.

Your nipple was tender after him sucking on it for so long. He moves to your other and giving it the same treatment as his left hand kneads your free boob. You felt like you could cum just from your breasts being stimulated. Over the years, Kuroo has trained your body to be responsive to him whenever he touches you. As a result, certain areas became very sensitive that even a slight graze would make you jump.

“Look at my poor baby, squirming under me, does it really feel that good?” he cooed into your ear, making your eyes roll back. You were so wet, he could feel your panties dampening as time went by.

You nod even though he could barely see you. He pressed his hand to your core,to which your hips automatically grinded against it in hopes to find friction. Kuroo knew you were close because of how your shaky sighs. The wetness began to transfer onto his hand, he wanted nothing more than to indulge in your juices but you needed to be taught a lesson.

He suddenly gets up and walks out the room like nothing had happened. You let out a quiet whimper, seeing his silhouette leave. Your eyes were wide in the pitch black room, the only source of light was the living room light. You mentally cursed yourself, letting yourself fall back down onto your bed. You knew Takuto’s touches were questionable but you were such a laid back person, you thought they just had friendly intent.

The following days felt excruciating. The day after, Kuroo returns home before you. When you entered your apartment, Kuroo was laid back on the couch, book in hand with his legs spread open. Your eyes immediately drink in his semi-naked figure as you think about sinful thoughts. You try to get close to him, in hopes to coax him into fucking you but he brushes you off and teases you about how horny you are. Of course that was his fault.

Attempt two, you wore his favourite lingerie set he had bought you for your birthday. The red lace complemented your skin as it was tightly wrapped around your body. Upon hearing his footsteps get louder, you sink to your knees, catching him by surprise at your position when he opens the door. His eyes widened before returning to their half-lidded state as a smirk formed on his lips. He places his hand on top of your head, stroking your hair before letting them fall onto your cheek. You eagerly pressed your cheek against his palm, enjoying the feeling of his harm hand.

“Welcome home Kuroo-san.” You purred.

He smiles before taking his shoes off and proceeding towards the kitchen. He ignored you. You stare at your front door, motionless in shock. Was he still upset? Your face heats up as you get up from the floor. He casually removes his blazer, before tossing it aside and sitting on the soft cushions. He lets out a moan that you know was on purpose, yet it still managed to make you feel flustered. Instead of being upset, his lack of attention made you angry. You just wanted his touch, and for him to make you feel good like how he always does.

By the time it was your sixth attempt of trying to get him to fuck you, you were exhausted and extremely needy. Each night you’d push yourself against him, trying to feel at least his warmth, but he’d just have his back facing you. You wanted to cry by how frustrated you were, he was being completely unreasonable. You didn’t even touch yourself because you know it wasn’t the same as Kuroo pleasuring you.

“Kuroo-san please… please just fuck me” You whine.

When he doesn’t respond, you turn the other way, deciding to sleep instead, rather than continuously beg for him. You were taken by surprise when he changes your position and spreads your legs. You couldn’t see him, but you know he has a satisfied look on his face as he hovers over you.

“Seeing you needy like this makes me want to fuck you so hard.” He presses his lips against yours, you sighed because this was what you were longing for.

“I’d make you my cumdump but you were being such a bad girl, this is your punishment.” He whispers into your ear.

You bite your lip when he presses his bulge against your core. Your hips automatically grinded itself against his, making him chuckle in amusement by your eagerness. He pushes his sweats off before pulling off your oversized shirt, exposing you to the cool air. You were only in your undergarment, the cold making your skin get goosebumps. However, they soon disappeared when Kuroo encases you in warmth.

The feeling of his hard cock against your thigh made you shudder. You excitedly wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting him to just shove his dick into your pussy, not caring about the lack of prep. His thumb circles your clit, making you moan his name. His forefinger and ring finger spreads your lips as his middle spreads your arousal up and down your slit and occasionally ghosting over your clit. He loved the way that you were desperately holding onto his shoulders.

His name falls from your lips once more when he inserts a finger into your core. The small stretch was enough to make your head go fuzzy. He continues to add two more, coaxing your pussy release more of your juices so he could shove his throbbing cock into your cunt.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, wetting it before sucking and biting onto it. Your voice echoed throughout the apartment, your neighbours above and below could definitely hear you. The sounds were lewd, from the sound of him sucking your tit to him relentlessly fucking his fingers into you.

Euphoria was all that you felt. The feeling grew greater when he replaces his fingers with his cock, pushing the head into your tight hole. You hug him closer when he slowly stretches your poor pussy out. After not being fucked and being intensely horny for a week, you were extremely sensitive. You could feel everything, from every inch of his cock to his vein that was on the side of his length.

He started off with a slow pace, making you want to die. You wanted him to thrust into you hard and fast but you needed to be patient for now. He only just began, but you were already completely fucked out. The feeling of his skin dragging along your insides drove you insane. The stretch was mouth watering, you practically drooled at the thought of your pussy being fucked open.

“You’re being such a good girl for me y/n, taking my fat cock like this.” He whispers.

“Kuroo, please- more!” You whine, digging your heels into his lower back to make him go deeper.

He simply complies, picking up his pace and slamming his hips against yours. The sound of skin slapping only aided you towards your release. He could feel you clench around him, desperately trying to suck in his cock and keep it there. You were so wet that it was starting to run down, soaking the sheets and his thighs.

“Fuck! I’m so close-” You wailed.

“I know baby.” He kisses you deeply, as his thrusts grow more sloppy.

Your moans grow louder and your pussy gets tighter. You were right there, but you were left dumbfounded when he pulled out. He strokes his cock rapidly before shooting his cum onto your pussy, rubbing it all over with his tip, making a mess of you. He lets out a grunt as he reaches the peak of his release, spraying a few more spurts. He leaves a kiss on your cheek before getting up and leaving the room once again.

Tears begin to well up, you’re left on the edge once again. Kuroo returns with a damp cloth. When he turns the lights on and sees you on your side, sobbing. Kuroo immediately rushes to your side, trying to make you face him but you resist.

“Baby, hey-” His face was covered in worry and voice dripping with concern.

“Just leave me alone Tetsurou.” Your broken voice made him regret doing that to you.

He silently places himself behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close before kissing your shoulder. He nuzzles himself into the crook of your neck, spreading your legs apart. He takes the damp towel and cleans his cum off of your pussy and thighs, tossing it away when you’re clean. A finger circles itself around your clit, making you bite your lip because you didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing that it felt good.

“I’m so sorry y/n. I was a dick. I should’ve stopped the stupid act sooner, will you forgive me?”

You didn’t respond, instead you spread your legs wider for him, to give him more access to fiddle with your cunt. He smiles and leaves wet kisses on your neck. You were too exhausted to even push him away or stop him, so you let him fuck your cunt with his fingers. He truly did sound sorry, his voice was so worried it made you want to smile and kiss him feverishly.

It wasn’t long until you were clamping down around his digits, letting out the sweetest moans. It was the hardest you ever came before, all due to the week long teasing and edging. When he feels you relax, he removes his fingers before inserting them into his mouth, sucking them clean. It made you blush and sent butterflies in your stomach. He hovers above you, turning you to face him.

You look up at him with sad eyes and pouty lips. He smiles before leaving multiple pecks around your face making you giggle as you try to make him stop.

“Hey, I really am sorry. I was being so fucking unreasonable, I don’t even know why I dragged it on for so long or even did that in the first place. I let my insecurity get the best of me, you know I love you right?” He lowers himself and lays on top of you, transferring his heat to your body.

“Yes, Tetsurou. Please don’t tease me for that long ever again or I'm going to leave you.” He immediately raises his head to look at you with a scared expression. You laugh, running your hands through his hair.

“You’re not being serious right...?” He asks.

“Of course not, idiot. Now go turn off the light, I'm tired.”

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu thirsts #haikyuu imagines #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsurou smut #haikyuu kinktober #kinktober hq

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ha-hatdog · 4 years ago

Text

all in a day's work / daisuke kambe

somebod requested a badass reader? sorry for this very late update. online classes is kicking my butt. you wanted either a scenario or a headcanon so i decided to make both. long scenario/headcanom mashup ahead.

requsted by anon: Hii!! I just want to say first of all, that I just discovered your blog and I just fell in love with it, keep going you’re amazing❤️❤️ soo can I ask for a Headcanon or scenario (it’s up to you) where Haru has a female friend who works in modern crimes prevention and is really badass (like she knows how to fight and all that stuff), so one day she helps Daisuke and Haru in a investigation in which a fight starts and Daisuke gets impressed by her abilities and develops a crush on her (????)

UNEDITED

It was another mundane morning for the the Modern Crimes department. The room was oddly colder, and the civil servants occupying the compact and simple space secluded themselves with their own businesses. Mahoro Saeki sat on the couch partaking in an unhealthy snack she had shipped from a foreign country, Kamei Shinnosuke was browsing through the internet and more than once using to his advantage the global connection that comes with his access to the computer in order to satisfy his habits and indecent hobbies, Yumoto Teppei tuning in to the occuring horse race in an international channel in his device, Nakamoto Chosuke merrily bading his time reading through documents of recent illegal activities assigned to his care, Kiyomizu Yukihiro fiddling with yet another craft he made out of wood and glue, Kato Haru awaiting the telephone to sound off and have another indiviual summon him for a petty crime, and Kambe Daisuke seated far from the othere, legs crossed and chin resting on his knuckles as he appraised the tranquil area.

Haru slammed his hands on his desk and threw his head, moaning in disdain. "Why isn't the phone ringing?" Whined he as his posture was regained after a moment or so. His eyes, lit with pure frustration and impatience, glared at the telephone, as though threatening without verbalizing his objective would somehow make it ring. "Come on, ring, you stupid phone. How come you always ring whenever I don't want you to and don't when I do?"

"It's a slow day." Remarked Kamei, not takint his eyes off his computer as he regarded his colleague. "Try to enjoy it. You can have all your action some other day."

Haru leaned against his chair, back sliding against the backrest and the back of his neck hitting the edge of his leverage. "Not everyone has weird hobby to keep themselves entertained." Countered Haru, and a pout formed on the blond male's lips at the comment. "This job is what keeps me from going insane."

The offended male turned his swivel chair to face Haru, face scrunched with the same attribute he exuded, "Oi, don't say it like that. It's bad if you describe it like that."

"It's weird without even having to add the adjective." Saeki chimed in between her chewing, humming as the flavor of the chip formerly cinched in the possession of her fingers travelled to her taste buds.

Kamei whipped around to her position, shoulders tensr with the taste of truth and reality, both of which ignored in favor of living in bliss. "It's nor weird. It's perfectly normal for men to be looking at those . . . sort of inappropriate . . . videos." His words trailed off as he came to realization that his own defense betrayed him.

"I agree, but not at work." Haru simply retorted. "Would you want to see me cooking a whole feast inside the precint?"

Kamei looked up in ponder, mouth curling as his thought process stuttered before he presented his inquiry, "Do we get to taste the food you made though?"

Haru stared at the blond man with an impervious mask decorating his appearance, unimpressed with how the man broached the metaphorical event served to him. "Never mind." Shaking his head with amicable dismay, Haru turned his seat to a half circle, arms taking space upon the the armrests. His line of sight crossed over the facile yet minimalistic design of their room, the dull colors of the walls an addition to his disinterest until it landed on a brooding and well vested man.

The referred individual had boredom etched all over his striking features, the lack of events occuring in the Modern Crimes he could invest his time in had him in a bad mood although showcasing it to his colleagues was not his cup of tea. He and Haru were different, and how they handle themselves in this patience consuming day was one of them.

"I'm surprised you're still here." Haru conveyed with a vestige of astonishment. Truly the older man had no such ability that could understand the complexity of his wealthy counteepart. Most days, whenever days were a little too slow for his liking, he would up and retreat back to his home (mansion seems more of an appropriate term to refer to his household) but lately, he had been spending more time in the precinct, and Haru did not know how he should react to this development, or devolvement. His comment floated in the density formulating inside the office, and everybody present swiveled their heads to await his response. "I thought you'd be back in your house now. No cases today, it seems. No games to entertain yourself with today."

"Tell me something I have yet to know, Inspector Kato." Retorted Daisuke, and a tick mark grew on Haru's forehead, but his displeasure to his rude counter was ignored as Daisuke brought his fingers to his ear. He spoke, enough for others to hear his statements. "HEUSC, locate the nearest and most recent crimes occuring within the area."

Haru rose from his seat, alarmed. "Oi, what do you think you're doing?"

Daisuke did not respond to Haru and awaited his butler's relay of information. It did not take more than a few seconds until it has accumulated enough information to submit to his master. "A few streets away, a murder of two took place in a bar called Denyr. Investigation is in process currently."

Daisuke removed his hand from his earpiece and looked towards a flabbergasted. "You heard HEUSC. Let's get going." Daisuke stood up from the couch, dusting himself off before making his way towards the door.

"Wait a minute," Clamored Haru, and Daisuke looked over his shoulder to gaze at him. Haru gritted his teeth, irritated. "You can't just up and go and do whatever you want! This is not your call! We weren't called so we'll just disturb everyone else who's already there."

"Aren't cops allowed to interfere in crimes or disturbance in peace whenever they want? It's their job." Said Daisuke. "And besides, you're just as eager as I am to do something other than waste the entire day waiting for the phone to ring." Then he frowned. "Unless, I'm mistaken, of course. I have no qualms leaving you here. I'm sure you'll be useful for warming up your chair for tomorrow."

Haru growled at him. "You stupid . . . " He grunted and took his jacket off his chair. "Fine! I'll go with you, just to keep you in check!"

“Wait a minute,” Exclaimed Saeki, causing Haru and Daisuke to turn just as the latter had began turning the doorknob. The pink haired female abandoned her seat in favor of giving them a standing and patronizing narrowed glower. “Haru, aren’t you forgetting something today?”

Haru looked up in thought, trying to recall what Saeki was implying. Nothing significant manifested in his line of thought and he turned to his colleague with a frown conjuring in his mien. “Uh, I don’t think I’m forgetting anything.” Answered Haru.

Daisuke grunted, displeased by the interrupting. “Then let’s get going.”

Daisuke pushed the door open and stepped outside. Haru was following suit, shrugging his jacket on when Saeki called out for them once more, particularly the older officer. She had her arms crossed, an unamused pout forming on her brims. “Haru, don’t be stupid!” Clamored she. “I can’t believe you forgot what today is!”

Haru let out an exasperated sigh. “I honestly can’t remember what makes today so important.” Said he. “What is it?”

Kamei rolled his swivel chair back, making sure to reveal himself from any obstructions blocking his form. “Eh? You of all people forgot (Your Name) is coming back?” He conveyed and whistled right after. “That’s surprising, and disappointing. I’m sure she won’t be thrilled knowing you’ll be the last one welcoming her back after her hospitalization – her best friend, her partner in crime.”

Haru’s face fell upon acquiring the information relayed to him. His mind refreshed, finally remembering the time when you took your time from resting in the hospital just to tell him you were soon to be discharged after the outcome of you recklessly electing to throw yourself in front of him when the perpetrator pulled the trigger and shot a bullet his way. You were fortunate enough to have the cylindrical metal projectile imbedded nowhere near any of your vital veins, but due to your blood loss as well as the stacking strain and stress in your body forced you to be admitted in the care of the hospital. Haru was sure you were not supposed to move when you selected to take your phone and call him because he can hear the nurse in the other line scolding you, telling you to end the connection and to rest easy for the remaining week. He could only miss you more – he knew how much you hated doing anything but police work. Haru couldn’t believe he forgot about that since he distinctly remember hardly being able to be consumed by sleep when excitement for your return filled him.

“Shit, it’s today.” Cursed Haru as his shoulders dropped. He slapped his palm against his forehead, groaning. “My God – how can I forget? I’m the worst partner ever.”

Daisuke glanced at Haru, bemused. This was the first time he had heard over this (Your Name) woman. To him, Haru was always a lone wolf who preferred to be alone in his work unless he was required to have a companion with him. Or maybe because it was loyalty to his said partner kept him from going to missions with another. Daisuke looked back at Saeki and Kamei, “Who’s (Your Name)?”

Haru wanted nothing more than to hide your existence from Daisuke. You already had so much in your plate and having a rich bastard interpolating with it was more than you can handle, especially after being hospitalized for quite a while. But it was inevitable for the two of you to meet seeing as Daisuke seemed to be taking a strong liking with playing cop and were in the same department as him. So resigning with the concept of keeping you away from Daisuke, Haru let out a deep sigh. “(Your Name) is another cop in our department. She’s my partner.”

Daisuke blinked at him. “Someone can actually put up with you?”

Haru angrily show his fist to Daisuke, irritation swathing his figure. “What was that? I should be the one saying something that! I don’t know how Suzue-san can put up with your rich ass!”

“Maybe if you’re rich, you’ll know.” Countered Daisuke.

Before Haru could grab hold of Daisuke’s collar, the latter efficiently evaded his attempt to do so and stalked off into the corridor, adjusting his pristine suit as he ventured away. “If you want to stay here and wait for your partner, fine by me. I can go alone and handle the murders all by myself.” He said without looking back to meet Haru’s hardened gaze. “I’m sure this (Your Name) person is more important than the safety of other Japanese citizens.”

“O-Oi, I haven’t even decided yet! Don’t assume I’m not going!” As much as Haru wanted to be the first person to greet you back to work, he too loved justice and cared about the people who wanted to live in peace. Clicking his tongue out of annoyance, he turned to everyone left in the room, and all of them returned his gaze with bemused expressions. “Kambe and I will be quick. We’ll just drop by the crime scene and then cime back. I’m sure I’ll be able to return here before (Your Name) can. If not, tell her I’ll be back soon.”

***

daisuke was never inclined to pursue a romantic relationship. ever since witnessing his mother died, his life had been reserved into finding the truth. but little did he know, his perspective in love and romance will change, and hary will most certainly freak the fuck out

the two police officers arrived in the crime scene in a short amount of time. with how daisuke was speeding, it was understandable they would get there fast and very understandable how haru's whole life flashed right before his eyes. daisuke was actually tempted to go even faster but opposed to it after a while as he did not want to deal more with haru's tantrum after he recovered.

of course when they arrived there, the detectives assigned to the case shooed them off because they're not part of the investigations.

daisuke knew how to deal with them, of course. he brandished stacks of yen to include them in the case and the detectives were like 👀 because you know, who doesn't want extra cash?

haru didn't bother complaning anymore and just went to work. he wanted to get back to the station as soon as possible and welcome you first. best friend efforts, get a best friend like haru.

haru: "i scout the ground floor, you go upstairs - AND NO SPENDING MONEY YOU RICH BASTARD"

daisuke:

haru:

daisuke:

haru:

daisuke:

haru:

haru: "and - "

daisuke left before haru could finish his sentence. really daisuke just stayed and didn't answer him just so he could piss haru off. it worked nonetheless and daisuke can hear haru cursing at him as he walked upstairs

but we all know whatever daisuke does pisses haru off so so it didn't matter.

daisuke went up to the second floor if the bar and he saw how thrashed the place was

overturned tables, fallen chairs, broken bottles, reeks of alcohol, smears and pools of blood but everything seemed pleasant to look at compared to the two corpses that laid out on the floor with police tapes around them. it looked like a small massacre occured in there, and thay surely was the case

head smashed, chunks of flesh scattered, broken skulls but daisuke merely stared at them blankly

he wasn't disgusted nor disturbed. seeing his own mother's corpse was enough for him to deem gore as just another normal addition to his life

like another detective, daisuke began looking for clues. he searched the entire place like the good and professional detective he is -

who am i kidding - the first thing he did once he sees the condition of the second floor was, or course, ask HEUSC for information. screw asking them from fellow detectives when daisuke has his own ai butler

ahh perks of being a kambe

daisuke: "heusc, tell me the exact number of people that attended this bar between nine am to twelve in the afternoon"

heusc: "understood"

it did not take long until heusc responded

heusc: "the exact number of people who attended genyr is twenty seven. twelve in the ground floor, twelve in the ground floor, fifteen in the second. there are two dead bodies found in the second floor - "

daisuke snapped his head to the ceiling as soon as he heard a soft creak emit from over him

daisuke stared at the ceiling for about a moment before askint heusc - "look at the footage from the surveillance cameras surrounding the the bar. how many people fled outside?"

daisuke heard another creek above him, and this time he was sure he wasn't alone

and his unknown companion would love to have him in the same state as the corpses

and heusc replied: "twenty four"

daisuke closed his eyes, "is that so?"

heusc: "one person remains inside the building"

daisuke dropped his communication with his ai and positioned himself to a clean posture, back straight and hands tucked inside his pockets

daisuke: "you can come out now. no use hiding. i know you're here"

no response

daisuke clicked his tongue, "i heard you moving around in the ceiling the entire time i'm here and it's only been two minutes. you're not as discreet as you think you are. reveal yourself now and i'd consider lessening your time in jail."

still, silence greeted him

daisuke was growing irritated by the lack of answer given to him.

daisuke: "a coworker of mine needs to be back at the station right now for a reunion with his girlfriend - " daisuke paused as he imagined haru having a girlfriend. " - so let's keep this short and simple. surrender and as i have promised earlier, i will try to get you lesser years in prison"

but daisuke was not intending to keep this promise. even he knows giving a generous offer to criminals would weaken their resolve

but again, there was no answer

but he expected this

he always does to every case he gets handed with, or forced his hands to

daisuke observed the ceiling through a blank lense before sighing "if this is how you want things to go down, then so be it"

daisuke touched his earring and deliberately increased the volume of his voice as he spoke to heusc - "heusc, purchase the bar and its neighboring buildings and set a bomb for twenty minutes. tell the others to get out of here as soon as possible" he sneered at the ceiling. "i don't mind dying inside this bar with the suspect. it's the norm for a police officer to risk theit lives in the name of justice"

he sounded like haru for a moment there

heusc responded immediately: "understood, sir. balance: unlimited"

it was after that statement did a response come to light

the ceiling above daisuke broke as a firm kick broke through the fragile material

daisuke jumped away before a slim figure of a man dropped down from the hole

before daisuke could move, the man dashed pass him and out of the room, his oustretchrd hand barely grazing the bloodied clothes he wore

daisuke didn't waste time and recovered from his stunned state before following after the perpetrator

daisuke kept losing track of the man from time to the time and when he got down to the grounr floor, he saw no sign of him

nobody was present inside the bar anymore per order of heusc and money

all except for haru of course who immediately ran out of the place he was scouring and back to the main room

daisuke knew he heard heusc's order to leave the building but

haru will always be haru

haru, upon seeing daisuke's solemn state, asked: "what happened"

daisuke: "the man - did you see him?"

*haru, confused noises*: "what man? who?"

daisuke: "the man who killed the peple upstairs - he was still here and he ran down, didn't you hear him?"

haru: "no, i didn't - " his sentence was cut off when a figure suddenly lunged at him

lo and behold the criminal who was hiding behind an overturned couch

haru and the man tumbled down to the ground, fists and feet swinging wildly. daisuke watched as haru struggled to acquire dominance over the situation

daisuke: "heusc, identity of the killer"

heusc: "sakatoshi matona, a former bouncer for genyr until he was let go without reason"

haru strung out profanities and grunts as he and the matona rolled on the floor, trying to pin the other down. with a boost of strength, matona managed to get the upper hand and he put all his weight on haru. his hands found haru's neck and began strangling him

daisuke was like aren't you cop? win you idiot in the inside and haru was like aren't you a cop? help me you bastard in the inside. just the norm for the reckless and seemingly suicidal cops

haru: "gwet hiff op opp mii"

heusc: "transalation: get him off of me"

daisuke took action after that. he pulled matona off of haru and immediately socked him on the face

matona stumbled back but daisuke underestimated the time he would tske to recover and he tumbled back as the criminal retaliated with a punch of his own

daisuke dodged the assault but in the process, temporarily losing his posture. matona took this as an opportunity to continue his line of attacks, landing a few good hits on daisuke but majority of the time, he failed

daisuke recovered from the initial shock matona has inflicted him with and returned to momentum ane he was preparing his attack when bam - haru kato

my day be so fine then boom - haru kato

daisuke's eyes widened when haru, after standing up, tried to lock matona's arms to prevent him from moving anymore but instead, his chest met with an elbow

air was taken away from him and haru staggered backwards, clutching his chest and matona seized him

daisuke cursed and shot forward to help him but stopped when matona took haru's gun away from him and pointed it towards haru

matona: "stand back or i'll shoot"

haru raised his hands in surrender but daisuke did not

and haru was: ?????!!!!! tryna get me killed????!!!!

daisuke: "i can keep my promise, you know"

matona pointed the gun at daisuke

matona: "how can you when you're just a lowly cop?"

daisuke took out his cigar and lit up

daisuke: "yes, because a lowly cop can just buy buildings with a single command from an ai"

matona growled "rich, snobby, uncaring, and a liar. you're just the same like the people i killed"

daisuke opened his mouth to reply when a feminine voice cuts in

"finally, a confession. now we can get this over with"

before anyone could react appropriately, matona felt a hand take hold of his stolen gun and tore it away from his grasp before a heel sunk into his stomach, causing him to spit out blood

daisuke saw her, a woman standing with such grace, confidence, and strength with a gun in her hand and a smirk on her brims

daisuke couldn't move not from shock, but with admiration

who was this woman?

and what was this thudding in his chest

doki doki

his face was hot, very hot

and so was the woman

"( YOUR NAME )???"

daisuke turned and saw haru gawking at you

haru: (@[]@!!)

daisuke: （－－）

also daisuke: is that really (your name)? haru's partner? haru's girlfriend?

daisuke: hmp hmp（｀ー´）

you turned to both of them and daisuke was blown away with you that he nearly fell

he thinks you're very pretty

V E R Y

doki doki

you smiled widely at them: "haru, it's so nice to see you again" and then you turned to daisuke

daisuke froze and his cigar dropped

you glanced back at haru: "you already replaced me?"

haru: "tf no! rich boy here wanted to plays cops for a while so he went to our department. you know me, i could never replace you"

daisuke glared at haru

it waa obvious he was trying hard not to upset you (though you didn't look like the type who would get easily offended)

plus he's pushing a single and narrow minded narrative about him towards you. what if you hate him?

but you didn't and merely smiled at him, ignoring the criminal trembling from the pain of your kick

you: "my name is (your name)"

daisuke.exe has stopped working

jk that won't happen to daisuke

for now at least

daisuke: "kambe daisuke"

you, smiling: "nice to meet you, kambe daisuke!"

haru: "how did you find us here?"

you: "was gon get a drink before i head to the station but then i saw police tapes and stuff"

haru looked alarmed: "YOU WERE GOING TO DRINK RIGHT AFTER YOU GOT RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL"

you turned away from them, facing matona: "you can continue scolding me after we arrest this killer, haru. sorry in advance for haru, daisuke. he can be pretty overbearing and protective"

daisuke: "i can tell"

haru was offended okay?

you were already teaming up with daisuke to tease? betrayal.

haru: "how dare you (your name) - "

you did not let haru to finish his sentence and starter beating the shit out of matona like DAMN GHORL

daisuke and haru watched from a distance as you expertly used the gun to your advantage without pulling the trigger. you used the metal to hit him in fragile parts of his body in order to limit his movement

daisuke gawked at you

he has never seen such fluid execution for an arrest

daisuke looked: O-O

haru, seeing him, smugly crossed his arms and said: "you get to see how amazing (your name) is as a cop. she's my partner"

just as he said that, you pinned the criminal down on the ground, gun discarded, your one hand straining his arm behind his back and the other pinning his other hand on the ground

you: "i just got out of the hospital. how did i still win?"

daisuke suddenly frowned

oh, right. she's haru's girlfriend.

several minutes later, you successfully managed to arrest sakatoshi matona and the other detectives came to take him. but of course, you made sure you, daisuke, and haru were getting the recognition

like hell you were letting someone else get the glory for your efforts

you returned to daisuke and haru, smiling

they were talkiny when you hugged haru from behind

you: "haru i missed youuuu. it was lonely without your annoying butt looking out after me all the time"

haru flushed red

haru: "if you didn't catch the bullet for me then - "

you: "and let you get shot instead? nu uh, no way. i would take any bullet for you. right, daisuke?"

he felt speechless when you regarded him

daisuke didn't know what else to say to you so he said: "yes, i agree"

but somehow the the thought of you getting shot angered him

haru looked at daisuke, thinking: he acting kinda sus rn

you turned to haru and the two of you began catching up, smiling and laughing

you two looked comfortable so with each other. you two were carbon copies of one another, except you were ten times better, sorry haru

you two were made for each other

no wonder you're his girlfriend

you: "how's everyone in the precinct?"

haru: "still the same. everyone missed you"

daisuke: "are you two together?"

haru: 👁👄👁

you: *long ass laughing emoji*

haru turned very red, shouting: "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA"

daisuke: "you said you were partners - "

you: "i didn't know you liked me that way, haru - "

haru: "NO I DON'T KAMBE WAS JUST BEING A DUMBASS"

you tittered and turned to daisuke: "no, we're not together, kambe-san" you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "sorry if i scared you"

daisuke felt relief wash over him

daisuke: "i was just wondering. you and haru seemed very close so i was just making sure i wasn't misunderstanding"

daisuke froze with wide eyes when you leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek

and you whispered to him: "gotta work on being discreet when you look at me. i can practically see you chasing after me in the future with how you were looking at me. i'm flattered you find me that fascinating"

you turned to the shook haru: "i like this one, haru. we should bring him along with our cases"

you regarded them both: "anyways, i'll be heading over to the station first. i can write up the report and have man behind bars quickly. don't worry though, i'll make all three of us have the glory. i trust that you two can finish up here without me?"

the two men wanted to say something but both of them were stunned. you just kissed daisuke on the cheek and your best friend saw it. daisuke's eyes were wide and haru had his jaw dropping down

they still didn't say anything when you bid them farewell and just watched as you went to a police car with another cop where matona was and sped off

daisuke can feel his heart hammering against his chest

what was this feeling? it was so strange and . . . it's just strange, but he was not oppossed to thie feeling

in fact, he wanted more of it. as long as it came from you, it was fine

haru, however, was not

haru looked like he had seen the most horrifying thing ever

B E T R A Y E D

his best friend and this cop wannabe?

D I S G U S T H A N G

daisuke cleared his throat and turned to haru to say something but was met with a finger pointed at his face and haru looking vexed

haru: "you - "

the bar and the buildings nearby exploded beforw haru could say anything more. everyone except for daisuke was startled and sunk down on the ground

daisuke was not though. and he remained standing. not for the reason he forgot about the bomb he instructed heusc to plant but because

- you kissed him and he was self destructing

daisuke held back the smile threatening to tear through his face

haru: "w-what was t-t-th - "

daisuke: "i forgot about the bomb, sorry"

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 4 years ago

Text

📽📼LET’S (NOT) KEEP IT PG📼📽

Prompt: Y/N feels bored to death with her life and the absence of her boyfriend Drew. Until he decided to break her routine a little bit, by sending her a not so PG friendly video..

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18, nsfw video, masturbation(male and female), dirty talking, cursing and just pure filth!

Tagging: @blondekel77 , @jibbles26 , @lustyromantic , @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan , @akiko-tanaka , @new-zealand-chic @drew-is-boo

Notes: I was going to wait to post this until later this week, but I just couldn’t help myself! This man fucks me up big time... Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“I cannot be the only person who feels bored to death with her own life, right?” I ask Drew through the webcam

“No, love” He chuckles “You’re not the only one. I feel quite bored myself”

“You? Bored? About wrestling? Thanks for the support babe, but I thought we agreed on not lying to each other on this relationship”

Wrestling was Drew’s life! And I mean it! What kind of person has for a hobby what he does professionally? Drew. What kind of person talks about wrestling all the time, everyday, tries to teach you about it and loves to convince you to watch wrestling matches with him? Drew!

He laughed “I didn’t said I was bored about wrestling, love...” He deviously smirked

“What are you bored about then?” Oh my, this could be fun...

“Not having you with me” He take his shirt off “I miss you babe, I miss kissing you, touching you” His right hand roams down his jeans “I miss waking up to your ass pressed against my cock, I miss the way you ride me” He palmed his semi hard bulge “I miss eating you out, I miss fucking you from behind, I miss how you moan for me to go faster” He unbuttoned his jeans, pulling the zipper down

“Fuck Drew, why are you so good at this?” I was already feeling my lace panties dampen with pleasure

“Show me what you’re wearing, princess” He lazily smirks

I stand up to remove the oversized t-shirt I was wearing (which was one of his) and revealed my baby pink lace bra and panties, one of his favorite.

“Fuck me, lass! You’re gonna kill me..” His hand sank down inside his jeans and I could see him grabbing a handful of his erection

“Drew...don’t be selfish” I whine “I wanna see it” I pouted

“Yeah? You want to see what you’ve done to me?” His hand is slowly moving up and down

“Drewy please daddy, l want to see you jack off baby, don’t be mean to me”

He grinned at me and began to take his jeans off, when his fingers hooked on his boxers to pull it down, I heard

“Hey man, why are you taking so long? We’re going to miss the party!”

Dolph bursted through the door and Drew quickly covered himself with a blanket

“BLOODY HELL, DOLPH! DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO FUCKING KNOCK?” Drew yelled

“Why should I knock if it’s my room too?” Dolph asked confused

“I’M BUSY, DAMN IT!” Drew yelled again

“Oh! Are you jacking off?“ Dolph giggles “Uuuhhh I’m so gonna tell Y/N that you’re jacking off to porn like a 15 year old boy” His full on laughing now

“Shut up!”

��What are you watching anyways?” Dolph turns the screen to him and sees me (now dressed back with Drew’s t-shirt)

“Oh fuck! Y/N...hi”

“Hi Dolph, how’s going?”

“Good, good. You?” He awkwardly says

“Peachy, just peachy”

“Wait, so if it isn’t porn then....oh my fuck, I just interrupted something didn’t I?”

Drew answers yes and I say no at the same time

“Sorry guys, it really wasn’t my intention”

“It’s ok Dolph, we know you didn’t meant it” I say and Drew just huffed

“Well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow then babe” I say “Tell Bayley I’m wishing her a happy birthday”

Drew sighed “I will, love. I love you”

“I love you too, D.”

“Love you more, bye bye” He says

“Bye Y/N” Dolph waves at me and I can’t help but chuckle

“Bye Dolph, have fun at the party”

“Sure thing ma’am!” He winks and Drew stares at him with a deadly glare.

Before I finished the Skype call I saw Drew punching Dolph’s arm, calling him a fucking cockblock.

Later that night, I was getting ready to go to bed when I received a text

❤️Drewy❤️: I can’t stop thinking about you...

With a video attached to it

*A video? Maybe is from Bayley’s birthday party* I thought, since sometimes we would send each other’s videos whenever something was worth watching.

I press play on the video and my jaw dropped

Drew was in the hotel bathroom, naked. He smirks and winks at the camera and roamed it down to film his hand going up and down his deliciously thick hard cock. Every once in a while he would squeeze the head of his cock and made his way down the shaft again.

I texted him back.

Y/N: Are you really gonna tease me like that McIntyre? You’re playing so dirty right now...🔥

He answered in less than 5 seconds

❤️Drewy❤️: You asked me earlier, to show it you...I’m just giving you, what you asked for baby 😉 But if you don’t want to see it anymore, I understand 😔

Y/N: Don’t you dare! I want to see everything! Until the very last drop..🤤

❤️Drewy❤️: I got you baby 😉 I’ll give you something to help you out, while I’m not home 😏😈

20 minutes later, I received a 10 minutes video from Drew. I lay down the bed and pressed play.

Drew has settled the phone on the bathroom countertop, his right hand working a figure 8 shape on his length, his left hand would every now and then cup his balls or slide down his long silky dark hair. The sight of him, that way, was the most lustful thing I had ever seen, in my whole life! I always saw myself as so damn lucky for having that man, but now? I was more than certain! I was even thinking about going to church and properly thank God for creating this man (and giving him to me, of course)

His grunts and moans were making me wetter and wetter to the point where I was envying his hand for being wrapped around his cock.

My own hands found my slick slit, two fingers sliding in easily due the wetness of my core.

Drew turned up the pace of his hand and squeezed his dick harder. Suddenly I hear

“Oh fuck Y/N, I wanna fuck you so bad right now baby. My hand is not as good as your pussy, not as tight, not as warm and definitely not as wet” He stopped his actions on his length, gathering a glob of spit on his mouth, Drew let it fall on his cock making me moan at the rawness of it.

He closes his hand around his thickness and I can hear how wet it is, as it slides through his shaft so easily.

“I can’t wait to go home, so my cock can make you feel real good” He grunts “I hate to think that all of my cum will be wasted on my hand when it could have such a better use inside your pussy” His accent grew thicker by the minute

“Or would you like it inside your mouth? I bet you do, love...We both know how much you love giving me head. And you’re so fucking good at it! The best blowjob I’ve ever gotten...Taking it all in, chocking on it like a good little slut”

My fingers were now imitating his pace and I could already feel my orgasm quickly approaching.

“Fuck baby I’m gonna cum” He moans and I see spurts of thick white cum, shooting down his hand, dripping on the floor.

The vision was enough to make me cum as well, my walls clenching tightly around my fingers.

Drew takes the phone off the countertop and zooms in his length and release.

I felt a mini orgasm rush through me as I saw up close the veins of his cock and his cum slipping down his shaft.

“I wished you could lick me clean right now, princess” He focus on his face again and says “Fuck babe, I miss you so much, see you when I get home” He winks and smiles, ending the video.

I decide to call him, he answered on the second ring

“Wow, you should open an OnlyFans account, you’re too good at this!” I joke

He laughed loudly before saying “Oh no baby, that’s just for you eyes only”

“So I have the ok to save it and watch it every fucking day?”

“Yeah, I want you to watch it every fucking day because then you’ll have no time to think about any other man” He teased

“As if I could think about any other man but you” I huffed “You ruined me McIntyre”

“Not the way that I wanted to, though” I can listen the malice on his voice

“Oh but you did! I’ve never came so hard with just my fingers”

“That was my intention, lass” He chuckled

“But you should be careful though, you know?” I say, my voice filled with worry

“Why? Are you gonna post it on PornHub?” He cackle

“You know I would never do that! But I’m just saying you should be careful because... I might send you one while you’re at the gym” My voice low with lust

“Y/N, don’t you dare to do that!” He warns me, but I can hear the excitement behind it.

“Oh you wait and see, baby, you just wait and see...”

God, I love this man!....

Please tell me how many Holy Mary’s should I pray for this devious Scottish sin I just committed? 🤣 Please leave me some feedback if you’re comfortable with it, is always welcomed and appreciated 🥰😘

#drew mcintyre imagine #drew mcintyre smut #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre x oc #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre one shot #drew galloway #drew mcintyre #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe one shot #masochist writes

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miss-dr-reid · 3 years ago

Text

This is calm, and it's, Doctor #10

Warning: mention of penis, but no touchy touchy of anything like that

My house keys were on the same keychain as my car keys. I told Spencer which one was for the front door, and he opened it, letting me in first. I walked in and started my 'getting home routine'.

"Hey google, I'm home." I said, smirking at Spencer.

All of the lights in my lounge room and kitchen came on and music started playing in the background. My house wasn't anything fancy, so I enjoyed little upgrades where I could get them. Spencer looked up from what he was doing, to see everything in action, his mouth slightly agape. He finished closing the door, ensuring that it was locked before finally coming inside to look around. I showed him around the basic parts of my house.

Firstly the kitchen, which was to the left of my front door,

"Feel free to get yourself a drink or anything you like while you're here." I told him, gesturing toward the fridge and cupboards, continuing my tour of the house. next was the living room, and then into the hallway where the bedrooms and bathroom reside. Once we had reached the bathroom, I realised that I was desperate for a shower.

"I'm gonna have a shower, and then we can put some aloe gel on our burns." I told him, walking into the bathroom with a towel in my hand. Spencer followed me in,

"You know, you really don't have to-"

"I told you, I would look after you That's also been the job assigned to me, so it's what I'm going to do." he interrupted.

"What are you gonna do, shower with me?!" I laughed.

"If I have to!" the comeback was unexpected, and suddenly, there were butterflies in my stomach at the thought of he and I being naked together - showering together.

I told him to sit on the toilet if he insisted on not leaving my side and he did. I hopped into the shower - still fully dressed- and closed over the curtain. I undressed, throwing y clothes over the top of the glass walls, hearing the soft 'flop' as they hit the ground. Turning on the shower, I realised that Spencer probably needed a shower, too.

"You haven't showered yet, either..." I called over to him, peaking through a gap I made in the curtain, and his head tilted up to look at me, "You're welcome to join me. At least you'll be right here if anything happens." my tone was more suggestive than I had intended, but I ran with it. Spencer stood up almost immediately,

"Would that be alright with you?" his question came out fast, and I nodded.

"Yes, Doctor, that's fine with me." I said, looking at him. His nose and cheeks were red, his hair frizzy from the excitement of the day, and his skin dry from the salt water.

I popped my head back into the shower, closing the curtain over once again, and he got undressed. once he was done, the shower curtain opened and he stepped in. I took the brief moment that he was looking at the ground, to look him up and down, my eyes growing wide when they landed on the place below his belly button. He had finally made it all the way in, and I stepped back, snapping my eyes away from his body and up to his face. He laid his head back into the stream of the shower, rinsing his head, droplets rolling down his face as he did so. His long fingers ran through his hair, ensuring all of it was wet, the veins in his forearms, protruding through his skin - from being dehydrated, I assumed.

He turned to face the stream one his hair was wet, and started rubbing his face and chest. I looked over his body once again, admiring the length of him. His back was long and toned. as my eyes traveled down his body, I noticed a scar just above his knee. Before I could return my eyes back up to his head to ask about the scar he turned around, and everything was on display. I suddenly stopped, my eyes growing wide again and my mind filling with thoughts that no one should have about a co-worker. I snapped my eyes back up to his head, my finger pointed out toward his leg.

"I got shot." he said, looking down at the scar continuing to explain about how he got shot, he suddenly stopped when he noticed all I was doing was nodding. "Are you okay?"

Honestly, I was just trying hard to get the thought out of my head, thoughts of him naked. even though, I didn't have to think about it, he was right there,

"Yeah, I..." I hesitated which only made him more concerned, "Look, you've got a really nice body." I said to him, trying to redirect my attention anywhere but there.

"That's not what's bothering you, please tell me what's wrong." he pressed, and I couldn't take it anymore.

"Spencer, your penis is quite big." I said as quick as I could while focusing my eyes on the shower wall.

"Oh... Well the average size of a penis in the US is approximately three point six one inches while flaccid, with an erection they are approximately five point one six inches. Mine is slightly bigger than aver-"

"Spencer, you don't have to say anything. I shouldn't have been looking in the first place." I interjected. Even though I loved to listen to him list of facts, this was one I didn't need to know. I got out of the shower not long after that, I had made things awkward by saying what I did. I got out and grabbed my towel off the rack. barely wrapping it around myself before heading to my bedroom.

I sat on the edge of my bed, my towel coming slightly unwrapped on my back. My head fell into my hands and I sighed.

"Why do I have to be so awkward?" I whispered to my self, "Idiot!"

"Y/N.." Spencer's voice called from the door and my head snapped up to see him standing there, towel around his waist, "you're not an idiot. If you don't want to do anything like that again, we don't have to. I accepted your offer, not only because I really needed a shower, but because I wanted to be close to you, too." his voice was soft and sincere.

I looked over his body, his hair had been pushed back out of the way, a few stray droplets falling down his face. As well as the few stray droplets falling down his body and being soaked up by the towel. My eyes made their way back up to his beautiful chocolate browns, they were staring at me, looking for some type of answer.

"Spencer... I want to be close to you, too. I don't want anything bad to happen, because I like you Spencer. I really like you." My voice cracked slightly at the thought of losing Spencer. It was silly to be feeling this way, we haven't even known each other that long.

He walked over to me and cupped my face in his hands - forcing me to look into his eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll be right here whenever you need me." his words were soft, but firm. Tears brimmed my eyes and soon started rolling down my cheeks. I was pulled into a hug, and Spencer stood up, taking me with him, my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. I buried my face in his neck as I started sobbing.

He held me there until my body had calmed, his arms were holding me so close against him. I pulled back, looking him in the eyes, keeping my hands on his shoulders. His eyes were tinged red, and tears were welling on his lower lash line.

"Don't cry for me Spencer, please..." I pleased softly, the sight breaking my heart. He tried to blink it away, but it fell down his cheek instead. I wiped it with my thumb, "Thank you for being here."

He didn't say anything else, only pulled me back into him. we were tangled together once again and I wanted to stay there forever.

Alas, it was not to be, He soon enough puled back once again, bringing once hand to the back of my head and guiding my head toward his own, only to kiss me on the forehead before putting me back onto my bed. My legs had managed to undo his towel, as it fell once I was detached from his body, my own towel following suit.

I grabbed my own towel, averting my gaze from his while he scrambled to catch his before it hit the ground. I let out a small laugh, which caused Spencer to laugh, too. It was good to see a smile on his face.

Spencer left to go get a new change of clothes and I pulled out a nightie from one of my drawers. This nightie is one of my favourites, the soft flowing material, lined with lace. It hugged in all the right places and flowed everywhere else. I slipped it on, throwing my towel on top of my drawers and headed for the kitchen.

I made my way to the fridge, bopping along with the music that was still playing in the background, and opened it. My eyes landed on the bright orange bottle of Sunkist, Ironic, I thought to myself as I grabbed it. I shut the fridge as Spencer was making his way into the kitchen, and I offered him a drink. I grabbed out two glasses, set them on the bench and poured, finally sliding his glass over the bench to him.

"So, what brings you here?" I asked him, trying to make any sort of conversation happen.

"I am here, looking after you - like I was told." he said, seeming genuinely confused on why I would ask that question.

"Spence, I - I was just trying to make small talk." I told him, and he admitted he was not very good at small talk. He didn't really understand the point, when there are so many other things to talk about. Fun new things to learn, he didn't understand why small talk was even a thing people did.

I was interested to learn new things, always up for a challenge to test my brain. Spencer was extremely happy to tell me fun facts, while he did repeat a few things I had heard before, I never stopped him, instead asking more in-depth questions about certain things that really intrigued me. He was so happy to be talking, after being cut off so often by everyone else, I would never have the heart to tell him to stop. But all good things must come to and end.

Soon, my back started hurting and the yawns escaping me, came at closer and closer intervals. I looked at the time displayed on my microwave 0124 it read.

"We should probably go to bed, Spence." while he was sighing contently a himself after finishing another fun fact. We had ended up on the lounge, opposite ends from each other, our legs tangled together. "Are you coming?" I said getting up from the lounge, looking down at him.

"I didn't think you'd want me to be in bed with you." he was taken aback at my proposal and there was no way he could hide the sight excitement in his eyes.

"Don't be silly, come on." I said, tapping his shoulder as I walked past him and down the hallway, gesturing for him to follow when he hesitated.

I made it to my room and climbed into bed, getting under the covers. I called out for google that it was bedtime, and the lights turned off and the music was replaced with Rain sounds. Spencer was climbing into bed as I was pulling up the covers. I laid my head on my pillow, laying on my side, facing him. He mirrored me, his head on the other pillow. I didn't want to close my eyes, I just wanted to stare at him, his features lit by the gentle moonlight seeping through the window.

He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, it was a sight to see. I had got so lost in thought, admiring him, I didn't realise I had scooted closer to him until he wrapped his arms around me. I smiled at myself, and fell asleep there. Safe in the arms of Spencer Reid.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff

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commanderserwin · 4 years ago

Text

— week 21 with levi ackerman.

✧ tags. fluff (in the beginning?), angst, bad language, slight nsfw, & descriptions of blood, weapons, and character death 🧍🏻‍♀️

✧ more. zombie apocalypse AU b/c why not?

✧ notes. ‘tis a word vomit and i have no idea why — just me and my small love for zombie movies and aus, so here goes! enjoy !!!

“Stay.”

Levi grumbled at how your arm and leg kept him captive on the bed, his hand finding your thigh— as he rolled his eyes, feeling your lips pepper kisses onto his jaw, and he loved it.

“One minute,” Levi turned his head, capturing your chapped lips onto his, his thumb playing with the waistband of your underwear, as he winked at you.

You laughed onto his shoulder, kissing the spot below his ear as you snuggled closer, closing your eyes as you breathed in the morning, greeting it with minute long cuddle and few kisses that painted your nose and forehead from the man laying beside you.

“Time’s up,” Levi groaned, feeling your hold on him tightening as you refused to let him go.

Levi let you hold on a minute longer again, kissing your temple as he counted to the last ten seconds, with the last as a smack to your thigh while you yelped loudly, a scowl forming on your lips but Levi kissed it away with no fail. He smiled at your morning dilemma, his heart bursting as you followed him behind him, a stomp on your feet as Levi made his way towards the kitchen.

He has always loved making breakfast with and for you and with your grumpy state made it all better. His hands instinctually made its way towards the kettle, flipping the mugs as he made tea and your preferred drink for the day— as he knew it like the back of his hand, and one look at your face. His basis was the frown on your lips, and it all dissolves as the steam from the hot water hits your face in a welcome delight.

“What time do you have to go to work?” You asked, taking a bite of his toast as you passed by him, grabbing a slice of your own.

“In two hours,” he responded, taking your seat as you settled into your office space, a little desk that he has set up for you. “What time do you have to get to work?”

“Now,” you winked, making kissy faces at him as you opened your laptop— ready to start the day facing the screen.

Levi nodded, finishing his breakfast as quietly as he could while you talked to your client— camera off that’s why you twirled around on your chair, watching Levi with teasing eyes. He shook his head, a blush washing on his skin as he caught glimpse of your eyes— but he’s got enough self-control to not fall for them, kissing your forehead as he made his way to the bathroom to start and get ready for his work.

Every morning was like clockwork already— and by the time he has come out of the bathroom, he would see you making a homemade lunch, while you continued to talk, moving your hands animatedly. He settled again on the kitchen table, graciously accepting his second cup of tea from you while the minutes flew by until it was time for him to go.

With a hug and a kiss, you walked Levi to the door, covering the mic from your earphones as you confessed your daily love, leaving the stoic man a blushing mess as he walked out of the door, a paperbag on his hand as he drove to work.

The day went by slowly, his own clients calling him as he watched the hours go by. He checked his phone multiple times, a text from you from hours ago, and he bombarded you as much as he could hide his phone whenever his boss would walk by.

Then something unusual happened— like straight out of a fucking movie.

The tall ceilings didn’t rumble, the streets did. The building has got thick walls and windows, withstanding few rainy days but what it didn’t withstand was the shrilling screams of people running towards each other— out of the cars, out of the building doors, as they watched others with a scream cut short.

“What the fuck,” Levi mumbled to himself, pushing the chair away as his hand fumbled with the phone, his thumb clicking your contact number with a nervous tap. “What the actual fuck?”

No answer.

His coworker bumped into him, cursing them with his eyes as he clicked on the notification— a news article from his phone. He skimmed it, his eyes rereading the words: blood, humans, trial gone wrong, infection, and the infected.

“Are they filming down the street?” Levi asked, holding the shoulders of his colleague, his eyes piercing through them as they stuttered incoherently, but they only pushed Levi away with a tear down their cheek.

His phone vibrated— your caller ID flashing and he fumbled to accept and finally, his mind has come into peace as he heard your voice amidst the chaos down the street. He walked closer to the windows, seeing flashes of dark liquid that he refuses to acknowledge that was blood.

Levi listened to shrill screams on your phone, and color drained from his face as it all sounded the same. It was noisy, it was full of screaming— agony until the last second that it lasted. He couldn’t help but worry about you, his hands fumbling with anything to keep him grounded. He clutched his phone tighter as usual, hearing your voice and never wanting to let go of it, of you.

“Levi, where are you?” You asked, double-locking the car as people rammed into your car, but you held on to the phone with such urgency as you listened to the other line. “Are you safe?”

“What do you mean, ‘Am I safe?’” Levi walked towards his cubicle, turning his monitor on as his office turned into its own secluded chaos, “I’m at work. Where are you?”

“Going home, I went to grab some groceries,” you answered, ducking your head below as you made use of the tint on the car windows.

Some elderly man slammed on to your trunk, making the car shake as cars honked loudly.

“I thought you had work? It’s only been a few hours.”

“My client rescheduled their telerehab. So I went to the store.”

“Okay,” Levi nodded, breathing through his nose, “Okay, listen.”

“Do you know what’s happening?”

“Did you lock the doors?” Levi asked, avoiding your question.

“Yes, I always lock the door.”

“And how far away from you from the apartment?”

“Ten minutes.”

“You have to walk.”

“I’m not walking!” You gasped, looking at the backseat where a couple of grocery bags were sitting, “And I’m not leaving the car!”

“Darling-,”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Levi raised his head, his eyes almost bulging from the updated news articles— and he really couldn’t believe his eyes.

The human trial from the nearby city had an outbreak. Their subjects resorting to death, but undead— zombified beings as infected blood ran through its course in their own bloodstream, affecting their brain and nervous system— paralyzed yet moving. Things— humans that doesn’t make sense.

Fucking zombies.

“You only call me darling when you are nervous.”

Levi arched his brow, breathing hard as he shut his monitor off. He looked down again, the streets covered in blood and bodies— and he backed away, the color from his already pale skin draining as he looked at the traffic block. It was going to take him an hour to usually get home— but with this mess, he has no idea if he could get there in a hour.

He wanted to go home.

“All right,” Levi breathed, his hold tightening on the phone, finally coming into terms with the movie-like situation. “Drive home. Carry whatever you think you will need inside the apartment. Grab the toolbox from the trunk. Get the food— anything essential inside.”

“You’re making me nervous,” you whispered, driving carefully away from the crowd as you took the longer route just to get home, “This whole thing is making me nervous.”

“Me too,” Levi murmured, grabbing his things from his cubicle as he grabbed whatever he could find that would be useful. “Don’t forget to lock the doors, do you hear me?”

“Lock the doors,” you repeated, driving a little faster as the roads were clear of any slosh of liquid and less bodies.

One mistake that you have done was stopping— the car coming into a halt as you watched the scene before you.

It was a little girl, her mouth dripping with her blood and mixed with whoever was dead on her hands. Her eyes were red, every vein dark underneath her dark skin, and stared right at your very being. With delicate steps, she moved closer, and you moved the car in reverse. But when she stood by your window, she slammed her hand on it, marking your window with her tiny hand.

Her handprint marked blood all over your car window— and you eyed at her victim. Perhaps her mother, as you guessed from the matching shirt. Her mother twitched— heavy and dark blood gushing out of her neck. She should’ve been dead, and should’ve stayed dead— but her fingers moved little by little, until she stayed upright, her eyes drilling into yours.

Every fiber of your body turned into dust, as you screamed, biting down on your hand as the little girl screamed with you, clawing her hand— but she couldn’t.

“What the fuck is happening?” Levi asked on the other line, his voice muffled as you dropped your phone. “Hey! Hey!”

“She was dead!” You screamed into the phone, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white, “She was dead and... she! There was blood everywhere... how is she alive?”

“Get out of there, darling,” Levi seethed at the situation, clenching his eyes shut as he focused on your voice, “Go!”

Finally, you gassed it, accelerating— feeling the car bump as you drove over the body, while you sweat for your very life. You placed the phone on loudspeaker, finding hope and solace through the curses of your significant other, focusing on his voice as it always calms you down. You counted his curses, finding a smile on your face and his new record of fifty bad words in a matter of minutes.

“Are you near the apartment?”

You nodded— agreeing a second later as the parking opened for you, and you held the phone near to your ear hoping it would close the distance between the two of you.

You wanted him home.

“I'm home already, get here now.”

“Good,” Levi ran down the stairs, towards the garage. He spotted his car, jumping on it instantly, “Wait for me.”

“Come home,” you sobbed, fumbling with the house keys as you opened the door— finding power to carry all the things in one go. “I love you. You have to come home, okay?”

“I love you,” Levi kissed you through the phone, an edge of a smile forming on his mouth as you chuckled-sobbed, “Don’t cry. Don’t go out, I’ll be home in a while.”

That was the last thing Levi has said to you.

His voice echoing in your memory, distant and near as you waited, and waited.

He didn’t make it home that day, and you waited for hours, until the suns changed and the moon waved for a new awful morning as screams made its way towards the quiet apartment. The moment that you hit home, you charged your phone, anything that will be used to communicate, even scrounging for Levi’s radio that he insisted on keeping, and with the mention of your beloved, your body shook in sobs as you tried to reattach yourself from what was happening as you waited for him.

You should have contacted him every minute and every hour— asking where the hell he is, but the mocking message of an unattended phone sang into your ears. Until all signal towers came down— no phone, no lines, no television, nothings. And all you could do was fucking wait, and you have waited too long that food has been stale for a while— days, weeks, months and you closed off from everybody. Yet, you didn’t move. The sofa has become your bed, a hand on the hilt of a knife as the other clutched the pillow while you slept in a shallow slumber— dreaming of when he would be home and what people have become.

The door and the carpet tainted red, your blood mixed with whoever tried to pried your door open. The handle was broken, and you repaired it as best as you could with Levi’s commanding voice echoing in your head.

Everything revolved around Levi— and you still wonder where he was.

Days, weeks, and months since he made that promise, and as each day goes by— it becomes ruined and broken, your life breaking down slowly as hope washed itself away, leaving you alone with nothing but a wish for him to still be there.

Another wish to whatever innocence is left within you and him.

The walkie-talkie became your friend— going on and off as you tried to catch a glimpse of whatever or whoever would be there to answer call, but nobody responded to the static buzz.

“I’m running out of water,” you coughed, counting ten small water bottles.

You were running out of everything as the long months drained your supplies.

And so you made a promise to yourself— get out of the apartment, find more food and water, and look for him.

If he couldn’t find his way to you— maybe it was best to find him yourself.

Week One: you started from scratch as you left the apartment. What you had was Levi’s large backpack which contained all your food, and water, a few pair of underwear and clothes, your dead phone, a wrench and a knife, and the walkie-talkie.

Week Two: you stayed in the car, a bad fucking move as an infected person broke your windshield, as they heard you crying. You ran them over— and it that makes them your second death.

Week Three: you saw an empty deli store. You went in— further and further into the back but the door opened and came a big dead man running but you placed a wrench on their big dead head.

Week Four: you were farther from the city. The signs becoming a maze to understand, words illegible as it was covered in blood.

Week Five: you passed by where Levi was working by. The car stopped, sputtering its last gas as you bid goodbye— but seeing Levi’s car, abandoned. With a heavy hand, you destroyed the window, seeing the keys stuck into the ignition as Levi’s briefcase collected dust on the backseat. There was no sign of him, as you left a note and a few tears as you broke down— biting down on your hand because you had to mourn in silence.

Week Six: you carried Levi’s briefcase for a week, but you left it as it became too heavy for you to carry. The only thing that you kept was the little pin on his briefcase— the one that he says that reminds him of you.

Week Seven: your shoes broke down, and comes your fourth death.

Week Eight: fifth death.

Week Nine: the winds grew a little colder, and you find shelter inside a car, the smell rotted as you later found a hand on the backseat.

Week Ten: you were tired, and comes the sixth victim.

Week Eleven: your mind was fucking with you, and you brushed it away.

Week Eleven: it was a dream— and that was the result of sleeping in a stupid store where mirrors all perfectly stood, every glimpse a fucking joke. A sick joke that is— because the mirrors reflected him.

Week Eleven: Levi’s here.

Levi crushed you into a hug, his hair somewhat long yet his face stayed smooth— a few mentions of stubble but it was him. His body felt so familiar that you found yourself curling for his warmth, for the security, for the home that he was.

Levi thought, he’s finally home. He’s found you.

Nobody spoke for a few minutes— unbelieving of what was happening. If you were alive. If he was alive. If that was you. If that was really him. The only thing that was said in those minutes were tears and quivering chins as Levi fumbled with his fingers— holding on to you as you pulled him close.

“Are you going to eat me?” You quietly asked, cupping his cheeks, as you checked his grounding eyes for any evident him.

“Stop with that,” Levi kissed your cheek, hugging you tight again.

His kiss felt like the sweet drops of wine, color finding its way towards the dark hues, as you leaned on his touch— tired yet there. The feelings that blossomed on your chest was huge, almost drowning you again into your sorrows but Levi pulled you back again, and it brought you to tears.

“I waited!” You suddenly cried, curling your knees to your chest as you felt Levi’s arms anchor you to reality, “I waited, Levi! You told me... you told me to wait and that you were coming home.”

“I know,” Levi breathed, cradling your head as you drove him to tears— making him shudder in regret and anger, but it all turned to smoke because you were there and so was he.

But everything felt flat— the hues darkening once more. Tough love— survival at the cost of one’s innocence, but it was there. Levi brought your face to his eyes as he looked for you somewhere deep within the months that you were alone and scared.

And you were still there, fleeting but there.

Love stayed the same while hope tarnished.

Joy pooled at your eyes— the very ones that he would look into, from the moment he would wake up in your bed with the light brushing your skin, and as he closed his eyes, a smile gracing your lips as the day ended. Fleeting but there.

Levi held your hand, carrying the bag as he guided you to his secured spot. He looked back and forth, breathing a little easier as he locked the doors behind him. It was a small family mart, aisles and racks empty with crusting blood and shredded skin, but safe.

In the morning, he woke up with your arms around him— just before. Just like that morning. His lips turned to yours as your very habit stayed the same, your voice carrying himself to agree with nothing but a kiss again on your lips. Levi found himself wrapping his leg around you, flushing you on his chest as he peppered kisses on to your nape while you chuckled softly— prying his arms.

“One minute,” Levi kissed your ear, nuzzling his cheek against your shoulder as you turned around in his embrace.

His grey eyes comforted you, carrying a hint of love and life while you allowed yourself to be hugged, relishing the way he feels after almost a year of him being gone and found again.

A year of it— and nobody spoke about what actually happened that night.

Infected. Infectious diseas. Blood. A human trial gone wrong.

Zombies— like the goddamn movies.

“Will you make me toast,” you whispered, asking him as you placed a hand over his chest— holding on to him and the memory of when it was good, like it was now.

“I believe what I only have are crackers,” Levi whispered in your ear, kissing your nose as your eyes fluttered open once more— and he took you in.

By the way your hair turned greasy, by the way the clothes on your back became ripped and drenched in dried blood, by the way your chapped morning lips stayed the same, by the way your face still contorts into his favorite smile.

“Has my darling turned cheap?”

“God.” Levi rolled his eyes, kissing your cheek numerous times as he finally caught on your dislike for the pet name.

“Now you understand how I feel when you call me darling?” You laughed, placing as much distance as Levi attacked you with tickles and kisses, his shoulders shaking in laughter as he breathily agreed.

Then, he stopped.

Bodies still tangled with each other— and you listened. Nothing was walking by the store, no slosh of liquid echoed into the empty street.

“Listen.” Levi murmured on your lips, his eyes closing as you saw him through the corners of your eyes— and you closed your eyes too, “Listen. This is my favorite part of my morning.”

After a few still minutes, your face lit up in tears, “Birds.”

“Don’t they sound beautiful?”

You opened your eyes to see him staring right at you, his eyes tired yet happy. Levi pushed away your tears, pecking your forehead.

That was the only time that you’ve realized that the tree beside your apartment housed a nest that Levi always prepared worms by the windowsill and that the birds always woke the both of you.

A new start— but this time after a broken heart, you were glad to start the day again with him.

Week Twelve: he always held your hand whenever the both of you would walk. His hand clutched yours that you even complained that it was too tight— but Levi would only kiss your palm and would loosen it.

Week Thirteen: Levi found an empty bodega, making the makeshift beds again, and he held you through the night as you cried, telling him the victims you have killed. That week marked your seventh kill.

Week Fourteen: he was drenched in blood because doesn’t want you to add another one to your list. Levi killed three instantly, and when you asked him how many has he killed, his eyes turned lifeless for a second, until he whispered— “Let’s not talk about it.”

Week Fifteen: you practiced with Levi as he gave you more effective tips to efficiently mark for the kill. He disagreed first, but he confessed later on that he was sick of it.

“I don’t want to kill one more,” he whispered into the dark as both of you listened to the loose footsteps outsides— daunting to add one more. Just one more. His hand found yours in the dark, turning his head to you as he pulled you to his side of the makeshift bed, whispering once more.

“I’ll take care of it,” and you marked the dead teenager as your eighth.

Week Sixteen: Levi found some tester bottles of perfume on clothes store— surprising you as it was the one that sits on your dresser, making you bawl into your hands as the scent brought back too many memories. He sprayed some on to his skin, making you even cry but he kissed your tears away— his eyes later turning into a shade darker.

His mouth found yours into a fervor that night, silent moans and groans echoing in the same bodega as Levi made love to you— and you him under the gaze of the daring moonlight, bodies moving slowly and sensual, hands finding each other, lips swollen as Levi kept you quiet with his own.

“Levi,” you moaned, feeling the coils of your stomach tighten— hips hitting together as his thrusts became lazy, his thumb finding your folds while you squealed.

“Be quiet,” Levi grunted against your mouth, his tongue grazing your lower lip as he held your hips down, watching you with hooded eyes with the way your back arch— face nodding.

“Fuck—,” you breathed, running your nails on his back as his thumb found your clit, driving you to oblivion as he felt your walls flutter around him. “Fu— Levi-,”

He lost himself, thrusting harder and deeper, listening to the lewd sloppy sounds as he felt your slick cover his length, groaning as your walls fluttered again— as his breathy voice moaned your name over and over again like a song that he would gladly sing over and over again.

Week Seventeen: Levi plucked a grass from in between the cracks of the sidewalk as he gave it to you. In return, you surprised him with a loose tea bag with lukewarm water and he accepted it happier than ever.

“I love you,” Levi murmured, cupping the thermos, bringing his lips to the edge for the first drink of his year that was made by you.

“Me or the tea?” You asked, munching on breakfast as you tilted your head to your partner with a teasing smile on your face.

Levi answered your question with an attack of kisses on your cheeks and neck— making you giggle until he held you steady with his hands on your waist, eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around him, breathing him in as he snuggled into the crook of your neck— your shirt becoming wet from each other’s tears.

Week Eighteen: you cut Levi’s hair, using a broken razor as he listed his instructions with his wavering voice as he looked right at you through the mirror. Levi admitted that it was the best haircut he has ever gotten, even when his bangs were choppy.

In return to find another space, comes your ninth.

Levi hesitated as the undead little girl that you saw from the day slowly walked over to him with a sinister smile. She marked as your tenth, and you mumbled a little prayer for the mother and the daughter that you have killed before and now.

In the evening, he held you close and dear, your shirt turning wet as he angrily cried but you only shushed him gently— “I’ll take care of it always.”

Week Nineteen: he turned to you in his sleep, fluttering his eyes open as you groggily reached for him. You kissed the sleep back on to him, giggling through the kisses as he tried to capture your lips with a failed mission.

On the last day, marks your eleventh kill.

Week Twenty: it was another sick fucking joke.

“Give me a minute.”

“Go.”

“Give me a fucking minute!”

Levi closed his mouth as his chest heaved heavily, his hands wrapping around his leg, unsuccessfully stopping the gush of blood that painted his skin and clothes dark red— and yet in whatever pain that he was in, he gave you a minute.

He has always given you a minute, spare— lots of it, but now he can’t risk it.

Not one spare second because he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

Levi watched you with careful eyes as you murmured to yourself, eyes closed as tears fell angrily at the corners of your eyes. He looked away, his eyes straining at the pain, and when he finally opened his eyes— he saw you looking straight at him with bright and hopeful eyes.

“We could... we could,” you stuttered, hands pressing into his wound to stop his breathing as Levi nodded, listening, “the best thing that we could do is cut your leg off.”

“It’s already in my bloodstream,” Levi whispered, the blood never stopped flowing no matter the pressure.

“You don’t know that,” you smiled— cried, wiping away your tears.

Levi shook his head. He breathed hard, inhaling and exhaling at the way his body turned into something sinister, watching his veins darken under his pale skin, but weakly pulled his sleeves down, as you watched closely. Your eyes were still filled with innocence— and after everything that you have been through, he wanted to preserve an ounce of it, for himself and for you.

That’s why you needed to go.

“Please,” Levi sighed, closing his eyes as he counted in his mind. Perhaps in a few seconds, the blood vessels in his eyes would pop, his sclera gone dark, “Please.”

The feeling of his warm hand covered yours and you pushed away the thoughts that came next as he heaved, controlling the minimal thrashing of his body. Levi nudged your chin, holding it form as he opened his eyes— and you tried to focus on how it looked like before.

Grey and nice, warm and soft, everything that you have loved, everything that he said, everything that was him— Levi.

“I want you to stand up,” Levi coughed, leaning on to the wall as you helped him. His hand found his spare gun and knife, as he pushed them to you gently. “I want you to get up. I want you to go.”

“You’re asking me the impossible,” you whispered, hand loosening from his wound as Levi blinked, his breath staggering.

“But it is for the best.”

“I can’t lose you,” you breathed, cupping his cheeks as you wiped away the tears— the blood that ran through his beautiful face. “Not again.”

“I know.”

Levi smiled, wiping his hand on his pants to clean them— as he ran his knuckles on the apple of your cheeks, one last time. He soothed the furrow between your brows, he cupped your cheek, making you lean for his touch as you kissed the inside of his wrist, murmuring against his touch.

“I can’t lose you.” You whispered, looking at his wound.

He pushed you to the wall at the moment it happened— the infected person crawling quietly as it sunk its teeth on Levi’s leg, making him topple over but he killed it in a second— all to save you.

“Levi, I can’t lose you,” you repeated quietly, chest shaking as tears clouded your eyes, “Not again!”

He screamed from the agony, his chest constricting whatever air was left in his body, holding himself close as he bit down on his hand as it washed through him. He pushed his weapons to you hard, making you stumble over as he watched your figure crawl away from him, inch by inch— and the hunger inside him fought its way towards his mind as he longed for the flesh and blood that rests perfectly on your body.

Yet, one thing stays the same.

His lips turned blue, as you watched him carefully, his mouth turning— whispering his very words that would make your heart skip a beat, be the reason for the unending adoration and devotion between the two of you.

“I love you,” Levi mouthed, his hands aimless around his body— no longer fighting whatever was inside him.

“I love you,” you cried, the tears falling freely as you found yourself standing to the other wall, feeling the cold cement hit your skin as your fingers fumbled with the gun and knife.

For whatever cruel reason, life has beaten the air out of you, your mind escaping its own as you chose— suffocating you, strangling the love out of you as you pocketed the knife.

Your whole body shook quietly— crying silently. The chest-heaving kind, where everything made it so fucking difficult for you to breathe, when you didn’t want anybody to know that you were bawling your eyes out, hands almost scarred from how hard you bit it down. Betrayal for the one that you truly love ran straight to your core— as you chose.

Levi smiled as his eyes became red— proud of how steady your arms were as you raised the gun— just like how he taught you. With the last ounce of life in his body, he professed his love for you one last time, and the farewell that mourned for himself, his fate, and for you. His memories clouded into colors that he hasn’t seen before, mundane things and memories with you, the way your lips would turn up at the sight of him, the way your eyes would convey such a deep message— deepest as the ocean as he would always compare.

He felt the air become static in his skin, feel his heart stop, feel everything stop. His eyes opened, seeing the hesitation in your hands but he has to do this, and he pushed you to save you. He saw his life with you— and he has to say goodbye one last time. Levi used whatever he could muster, as he whispered, hearing the shot echo in the cold room.

“Stay away.”

#my mind’s kinda wonky now #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman imagines #levi x reader #levi imagines #levi imagine #aot imagine #aot imagines #snk imagine #snk imagines #attack on titan image #attack on titan imagines #aot fanfiction

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blkgirlcafe · 4 years ago

Text

Professor Nasty Pt. 2

Professor! Florian Munteanu x Black! Reader

Warning: Rough sex, unprotected sex, cheating, undefined age gap, dirty talking, slight degrading.

I keep my description of the reader pretty vague, make her how you want, but she black fosho. I am trying to get better at writing from a Y/N perspective, so any constructive criticism is welcomed.

Thank you @dersha89 for the inspiration. Thank you love!

The Chinese food they ended up ordering was just being pushed around her plate.

“What's wrong, you've been so quiet since you got here. Did he fail your paper again, dude can be so hard.” Fynn shoved fried rice into his mouth, bits dropping everywhere.

“Just tired.”

Fynn rolled his eyes, “Then go to bed.”

Y/N stood, taking her plate and shoving it in the fridge.

“I’m going home, you can play your game without being worried about me.”

Part of Y/N knew she was taking her bad attitude out of Fynn not that he deserved it, she had literally cheated on him hours ago and now she was being bitchy.

“Fine, maybe we can link when you fix your attitude, I didn't do anything to you.”

Y/N didn't even stay to hear the rest, just grabbed her stuff to head back to her apartment, where she should have gone in the first place.

Thank god her two roommates were out, she closed and locked the door to her room, not wanting to be disturbed. Y/N turned on her soft music playlist and tried to get some studying done, but nothing was clicking. She kept thinking about Mr. Munteanu and what had happened. She opened the text thread a few times, reading the message, trying to decipher things that weren't there. His message was clear and concise, he wanted to see her again. And Y/N wanted to see him too.

So she texted him back.

Where am I headed?

“Hello trick, you off in LaLa Land?” Chris waved her hand in front of Y/N’s face.

Y/N snapped out her daydream, today was Friday and she was absolutely frazzled by what could happen tonight. He had sent her an address, one not far from the school, and told her to dress sexy.

“No, just tired.”

“If I hear that shit one more time, I swear.” Chris grabbed a fry from Y/N’s uneaten plate.

“Well I am, what you want me to say.”

“The truth, first you fight with Fynn for no damm reason, you been MIA all fucking week, and I finally track you down and you barely can string a sentence together. I’m not stupid.”

“You sure, cause you went back to Jason 4 times.” Y/N snapped.

“Ohh that was low, you def hiding something chick. Let me find out.” Chris was staring her down and it made Y/N squirm.

“Look I am sorry, that was low, my bad. But I am stressed, school, being away from family, being one of the few black women at this school, not being able to find decent hair products. I could go on.”

Y/N could tell that Chris was not buying it at all. They had been friends since freshman year and they could read each other.

“Imma let you slide, but when you are ready to tell me the truth, just know I am here. And Fynn getting on my fucking nerves, he keeps asking me whats wrong with you and how he can make it better.”

That made Y/N feel even worst, Fynn was trying his hardest to be a good guy and here she was out here being scum.

“I’ll make it up to him.”

“Hopefully with this that you ask me to bring.”

Chris put a bag on the table, and Y/N smiled on the inside. Chris was the queen of dressing fly and sexy. She made anything look good. Whenever Y/N need an outfit she shopped Chris closet.

Y/N had asked Chris to bring her dress and she had delivered. Y/N pulled the dress out, giving it a look. A blue mini dress that sparkled, it left very little to the imagination. This was a no bra type of dress, the straps super thin.

“Damm this is dope, thank you.”

“No problem and I dont need it back, what is it for?”

“Going to surprise Fynn.” Y/N lied.

“Pair it with those clear pumps you have and girl you will be looking irresistible. Promise. Look I gotta go, hit me up and let me know how it goes.”

Chris stole a few more fries before blowing Y/N a kiss and leaving her to sit and wonder if she was making a good choice.

Y/N checked herself one more time before she went downstairs to wait for her cab. The blue mini dress looked perfect against her brown skin. The twist out that she did had came out perfect, light makeup, a gold necklace with her initial sat center on her chest. Another coat of lipgloss and finally a spray of Rogue by Ms. Fenty and she was ready to go.

And of course Chris was right about the clear pumps, they went perfectly with the dress. She looked great, Y/N snapped a quick picture before grabbing her clutch and heading out. Trying to sneak past her roommates was not an option, they whistled as she walked past, paying her compliments and saying how lucky Fynn was.

If only they knew that Fynn wasn't the lucky one.

The whole ride to his condo was nerve wracking, Y/N alternated between bouncing her leg and checking her phone obsessively. Part of her hoped he would cancel, and she could go see Fynn and make it up to him.

The cab dropped her off in front of a high rise, she didn't know the going rate for a professor but she didn't think it was this. The place was nicer than she expected with a doorman outside.

Stepping into the elevator Y/N knew there was no turning back, she was here and her panties were already damp and the possibility of fucking Mr. Munteanu again. The quickie they had on the desk was just a taste, a teaser of what it was like to be with a man.

“You look gorgeous Miss Y/F/N”

Y/N shyly looked down as Mr. Munteanu looked her over, he sucked his bottom lip in as he traced the hem of the short dress.

“Thank you Sir.”

“Here, you can call me Flo or Daddy sweetie, come in.”

The door closed behind her and suddenly she was pushed against the wall. Florian grabbed Y/N neck, making her look up at him. He kissed her, soft at first before aggressively overpowering her. Y/N hands landed on his chest, the feeling of the hard muscle of her hands. Y/N gasped when he pulled away, her chest heaved as she gulped down air.

“This is going to be fun Miss Y/F/N.”

“If I can call you Daddy, I'm sure you can find something better to call me.” she smirked.

“Is that right babygirl, don’t worry I have all night to come up with names to call you.” Florian dragged Y/N to the couch, pushing her over the arm.

Y/N ass was in the air, the dress which was already short, pushed up. Florian parted her legs, standing between them as he ran a finger up and down the wet crotch of her panties.

“Guess I should call you slut for being wet already, I’ve barely touched you.”

“I’ve been thinking of you all week.” her voice was weak.

“Good.” was all he said as he pulled her panties down. Florian kneeled between her legs, the first bite surprising her. Y/N squirmed and Florian gave her ass a light smack.

“Let Daddy take care of you.”

Y/N moaned as Florian bit and sucked her thighs, slowly working his way up to her dripping wet pussy.

“I like to take my time baby, what's the point if I can't slowly devour you.”

“Please…”

Y/N was not used to this, Fynn was only her 4th sexual partner. Foreplay usually lasted a few minutes if she was lucky.

The first kiss to her wet core sent shivers up her spine. The professor slowly made out with her pussy, the sloppy kissing turned into his tongue slowly licking her from top to bottom. His pace was so slow and torturous that Y/N’s hips tried to follow his movement. He repeated the same move and his teasing was too much for her to take.

“Please Daddy, more.”

Y/N pleas feel on deaf ears, he was enjoying this too much. Y/N gasped when he sucked her clit into his mouth, the small bundle of nerves suddenly over simulated. Y/N never felt a pleasure like this, he was being a teacher in more than one way.

His lips released her clit, his wide tongue driving into her wet slit. Quickly diving in and out, Y/N rocked on his face. Y/N fist balled as her legs shook, Florian was being merciless, eating her with a passion that she never felt. Y/N was just paralyzed with pleasure, the way he changed pace from slow to fast, back to slow. The way he sucked her clit then tongue fucked her. He was a man that knew what he was doing, a skilled man.

“Oh my God!!” moaned Y/N, the way the orgasm took over her whole body, she felt it rushing through her veins.

Florian stood, his jeans grinding against her wet and sensitive pussy.

He leaned down, kissed her neck before whispering,“ Do you want to know what I'm going to do to you all night?” Right in her ear.

Y/N was still breathless from the mind shattering orgasm, that she couldn't speak, she just shook her head. Florian grabbed her hair, so that she was facing him.

“I’m going to fuck you like a man should, you will never want a boy again when I am finished with you.”

With one hand still tangled in her hair, something she would never let Fynn do, Y/N heard the sound of his jeans being undone. Her body still recovering from the tongue lashing that he gave her didn't have time to prepare for him or his thick dick.

“Fuck!” they both said. Y/N from the way he stretched her out, and Florian from the way her walls wrapped around him.

Florian released her hair, putting his hands on either side of her, slowly feeding her inch by inch, wanting to savor the feeling of her walls hugging him. Y/N didn't want that, she wanted all of him and now.

“Please go deeper Daddy, I need it.” she begged, her nails dug into his arm. Y/N pushed back, wanting all of his thick length to be inside of her.

Florian moaned, he promised himself he would take his time, but he couldn't hold back. He snapped his hips into hers, burying every last inch into her. Gone was the slow tender strokes, he pounded into her.

“Give me a kiss baby girl.”

Y/N turned her face to kiss him, but couldn't focus because of how he was fucking her. Soft kisses barely made it to his lips until he stopped moving. Florian grabbed her jaw and kissed her, tongues battling it out, he grinded his hips into her, watching her melt. Florian finally pulled away, resting his forehead on her back.

Y/N felt surrounded by him, his powerful arms on either side of her, digging into the material of the couch. His chest against her back, she couldn't move if she wanted to, she was trapped and happy about it.

Pain mixed with pleasure as his strokes sped up, both chasing their own orgasm. Y/N clung to him as her legs trembled and she let out a loud moan.

Florian kept fucking her through the orgasm, he never experienced this with any other woman, wanting to completely consume her in each way possible.

“Fuck, Im cumming baby.”

His body went riding on top of her, as he released a flood inside of her. Y/N wasn't sure she would move if she wanted to, she felt drained of energy and completely happy.

When Florian finally moved off of her, pulling up his boxers before sitting on the couch, Y/N stood on unsteady legs. Y/N looked around for her panties and bag. She fixed her dress, she could feel his seed dripping out of her. She had turned around to pick up her panties when she felt his presence behind her.

She stood, panties in hand.

He moved her hair out the way, softly kissing her neck, “You don't need them, I am nowhere near done with you.”

#Florian #florian munteanu smut #florian x reader #florian x black!reader #creed #smuttywriter

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kiame-sama · 5 years ago

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🍋Heat- Sesshomaru x Reader Part 2 Lemon

Due to a landslide of requests for this, I had decided to give the people what they want.

Now, as per usual, this is a lemon which means there is mature content within the story. If you are unable to handle such content, do not read. For those who are able to, please, enjoy the lemony goodness.

Warnings; Rough lemon. I think that's it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was finally peace in the large home you now lived in. Sesshomaru had you live in the large home of the Dog demons of the West, as you were his mate. You had been well acquainted with his mother who happily welcomed the idea of pups running around and your position in the clan is quite clear. You are the only mate that Sesshomaru has kept which means you will be the female head of the clan and you are to bear Sesshomaru's pups and care for them throughout the duration of your life.

It wasn't exactly a bad deal, and hearing what happened to all of Sesshomaru's other mates, you felt lucky that the silver haired dog demon sparred you from the same fate. From what you heard, he had a habit of finding a mate and keeping her during his rut period only to slaughter her once he was satisfied. You were the only mate he kept, and you couldn't begin to fathom why he had chosen you, a Vixen from a small Skulk of little power, to be the mate to keep and have pups with.

Of course, you weren't exactly complaining. Being the mate of such a powerful demon who was next in line to be head of his clan had quite a few perks and it also ensured your safety, as many demons feared his wrath should they draw too close to you for his liking. Though he did not show many emotions outside of mating, he was quite clearly possessive and protective of you. He would become enraged should another male or potentially harmful female draw too close to you and he would quickly slaughter them before keeping you by his side for the rest of the day in order to ensure your safety.

Speaking of pups, it didn't take long for you to bear your first litter, he made sure of that. The litter consisted of two males, one clearly inheriting dog demon genes and the other inheriting fox demon genes. Though the birthing process was difficult, you would argue that the pregnancy was even worse. Sesshomaru was a wandering type and would often leave for periods of time before returning to you, but when you were with pups, he refused to leave your side for even a moment, snarling at anyone who came near, even his mother.

He didn't let you do anything yourself and though he never asked about your well-being, you knew to tell him if you were well or uncomfortable. Though, goodness forbid that you tell him about being uncomfortable. His response to such things would be to keep you on your shared bed and refuse to let you up for long periods of time. Quite clearly he was taking the idea of protecting his pups very seriously and wasn't about to let anything harm you or his unborn litter.

When the pups finally arrived Sesshomaru calmed down a bit, but was still murderously protective. Though, when he had gotten used to the idea of the pups being around, his attention turned to other things. Namely, you. It was clear throughout the time you carried his pups that he was rather discontent with the fact that he was unable to mate with you whenever his wished as he had grown quite fond of the idea of having a permanent mate that he could have even if he was not in one of his ruts.

You currently sat upon a large pile of soft furs and watched your pups interact, listening to them playfully growl and squeak to each other. Though they were only a few months, they were already very active and would grab hold of your tail any time it was near them, prompting you to keep your tail far from their little grasp. You were thankful that Sesshomaru's mother, Inukimi, would help you care for the pups and keep an eye on them for you if you needed a break from the duties of motherhood.

Though they were not all too mobile yet, they still managed to cause trouble any time they were left to their own devices. They especially loved pulling on your mate's tail and hair should he venture close to them or interact with them in any way. Speaking of Sesshomaru, he was sitting behind you with his arm draped lazily around your waist, golden eyes closed as he rested with you upon the pile of furs, tail laying over your form. You were close to the edge of sleep when a light voice broke through the haze in your mind, snapping you to attention.

"I will take the pups and let the two of you rest. Clearly you both need it."

You looked over seeing Inukimi stand up, her eyes gazing at you knowingly as her silver hair gently waved with her movements. Sesshomaru let out a low growl, but otherwise did not protest against the idea of being given a break and time to rest as she gathered up the two pups, not at all bothered by them gripping and tugging her hair in the process. She left the room, closing the ornate door behind her and giving you and your mate some needed privacy and rest.

You let out a soft hum, settling into a more comfortable position in the arms of your mate, relishing the quiet. Though you adored your pups, you were still glad for the reprieve from them for the moment. You felt the one-armed grasp around you tighten, causing you to look up at Sesshomaru in curiosity at his sudden increased attention. You felt a jolt run through your body as you locked eyes with the distant dog-demon, seeing that his gold irises had turned a light blue and the white of his eyes had become red.

You knew that any time he looked at you like this, there was a good chance that he was riled up and in the mood to mate.

"Mine... my mate..." He growled out, quickly pinning you on your back and causing a soft yelp to escape your lips at the sudden movement.

"S-Sesshomaru... I need rest, not to mate..."

You whimpered out softly as he quickly pulled open your kimono, insatiable lips attacking your soft skin.

"Then lay there and rest."

He snarled out, effectively ending the conversation as his mouth roamed your fevered flesh.

You couldn't help the shiver that traveled through you any time his fangs grazed you or the soft whimpers and yelps that escaped your lips with every lick and bite he gave. He ensured to leave a light dusting of his scent on your skin if only for his own benefit than to actually mark you to keep other males away. You felt a slight tug at your tail, making a barking-yelp escape your lips due to the base of your tail being a very sensitive erogenous zone. An answering growl escaped his lips as he tightly gripped one of your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth and descending to hungrily lick at your heat.

You let out soft whimpers and moans, feeling his heated tongue slide over your needy heat like a man starved. He growled against you and held tightly to your thigh, giving you no reprieve from his pleasureful onslaught. You felt a familiar building heat as you yelped out in pleasure, reaching down to grip lightly at his hair and at the furs beneath you, trying to ground yourself. He growled in response to your tight grip on his hair, only sliding his tongue into you and licking more vigorously.

The more you moaned, the faster he licked, growling against you and digging his claws into your thigh as he feasted upon your sweet heat. You let out a sharp cry as the building heat flooded your veins, forcing your back to arch upwards and legs to twitch from the pleasure. You were given no time to recover from your high as he continued to lick aggressively at you, forcing you to ride out your orgasm.

"More."

He snapped out, continuing his pleasureful torture upon your yielding body, causing you to repeatedly release due to his actions and extended attention.

When he finally pulled away, you were panting heavily, chest rising and falling sharply as your overwhelmed senses began to slowly return to you. He watched you closely, licking his soaked lips in a predatorial manner as his intense eyes focused on your panting form. With no hesitation, he quickly ripped off his clothes, not caring about shredding the cloth as he threw it somewhere else in the room, eyes never leaving your form. You looked up at him, about to ask him to wait for a moment so you could catch your breath before you were cut off by a sharp thrust into you, forcing a loud moan from your lips.

He growled and dug his nails into the furs beneath you and began thrusting his hips, growling and hissing in pleasure. He was already too lost to his lust and his pleasure to be reasoned with or stopped as he pounded into you, taking pleasure in your whimpering form. You knew that Sesshomaru has been riled up for a while, seeing as any time he tried to mate with you the two of you were interrupted due to the pups needing attention or something he needed to deal with. It was clear that he wasn't going to be stopping anytime soon, and you pitied anyone who may come in and interrupt as he wasn't going to stop for a while.

#sesshomaru x reader #sesshomaru #seshomaru x reader #seshomaru #reader insert #Female reader #x reader

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lydiamoved · 4 years ago

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“the mycologist” is a short story influenced by a 2021 news story of a man who accidentally sends himself to the hospital after injecting himself with shrooms. in this story we follow anne, a mycologist who becomes obsessed with the idea of injecting herself with the insides of fungi - an obsession that costs her her job, as well as some of her humanity. you can read it below - i hope you enjoy!

She knew the risks, as did everyone else. Hell, she could still hear them warning her against what she was planning to do, the way their faces contorted in some strange disgust that was foreign to her – and her line of study.

Mycology – that’s what the glass paneling of her building said, proudly and in large bold letters. Mycology, and here she was, the head of the department, the dictionary of fungi for all the others who worked underneath her and couldn’t be bothered to remember certain names or attributes. Really, it moved her, the number of doctors and specialists she oversaw day-in and day-out, who paled instantly in comparison to her; everyone who watched her and clapped for her and worshipped her, all turned to cardboard cutouts whenever she opened her mouth, their own words made into a slurry of syllables until she left and allowed them to go back to their meaninglessness. But also, it annoyed her, how these soup-mouthed, so-called specialists, stared at her when she announced her plans. How they all, every last one of them!, managed to wipe the smile off her face with the way they gawked and waited for her punchline.

“I’m going to inject myself with a fungus,” and? Must it always be followed by an and? It frustrated her, the need for clear-cut results and outcomes, and for once, for once, she would kill to experience a project with a bit of danger! When their reactions greeted her, she became even more determined, the days slowly bleeding into each other as she worked every hour she could, until every hour felt and looked the same. A month had passed, and she had not yet discovered that her eyesight had begun to dim, or that the cramp in her hand was permanent. Her working days, which was every day, were now accompanied by the grumbles of her coworkers, the way they said her name – Anne, in that sighed out way that meant pity. Their sympathy, she knew, was false and forced, a little lie they hoped she wouldn’t detect out of her own desperation.

She saw through all of them, and they knew.

Naturally, after the condolences had gone around, she was asked into the Dean’s office for a short, friendly conversation. The request made her feel cold, and the walk to the office chilled her to the bone. She stared at pale yellow walls that fell into a mossy, moldy green. The chair she sat in scratched at her legs when she shifted, the fur feeling more like torture than comfort. The air felt stiff, the discomfort building in her arms and chest until she needed to scream. She felt her jaw unclench, forcefully, and her mouth pry itself open bit by bit, until her tongue went cold with a flood of fresh air, and –

“Anne?”

Reality flooded back to her, and she looked up. “That’s me,” and the woman in front of her nodded and gave her the go ahead, a shaky smile. Anne got up from her seat and went into the office, where another scratchy seat waited for her. This time, she didn’t sit; her nails slid into the wooden frame of the chair as if they belonged there, and she stood tense.

The Dean was an older woman, kind in her voice and kinder with her actions. She sat behind the desk that shielded her from acts of passion, but she welcomed any warm response, often initiating the hug or bundle of tissues. Today, she hoped, there would be reason to celebrate, and so she began with a smile.

“You’re one of our top professors. I hope you know that.”

She knew. She nodded.

“We don’t want to have to let you go,” and the Dean paused, taking a breath and looking down at her notes as if she forgot something. But, “But, you’re scaring some of the other professors.”

Anne’s chest tightened.

“I can’t begin to tell you how many reports we have, detailing the same behavior.”

Anne’s hands began to shake, her own words slow from her mouth.

The Dean continued, “if you resign, I’ll write you a recommendation letter to anywhere. I will make sure you get an outstanding position, I promise you –” and the rest of her words sounded like background noise. Anne’s ears flooded with static, her nails digging into the chair until they splintered instead of the wood. She heard very little afterwards: something about being transferred, the promise of being remembered, a very short you just can’t work here anymore, and all she could do was nod. The Dean waited a moment, and then stood from her seat behind her desk. “I hope you understand,” and when Anne nodded again, “we’ll be in touch, okay? All you need to do is secure another position and leave the rest to me.” A hand touched Anne’s shoulder, a little slow to deliver the comfort it was supposed to give, and then it was gone. Anne was shuffled out of the building, the door closing behind her, as quick as she had arrived.

–––

The position she was promised came within a month or two of being asked to leave, and within this month Anne had found herself once again. This job wasn’t based around fungi – her old Dean had recommended something less science-based, for fear of Anne becoming knee-deep in her obsession once more, and so she had traded in her laboratory space for a cubicle, the goggles and lab coat for a nice suit and ballpoint pen, and she settled down once more for an occupation that made her fingers cramp and her mind shrink with disinterest. But the obsession never left her mind; it left a stain between her brain and her mouth, forcing itself between every other interest and her work. She found herself sketching down her plans, her desktop now full of searches of the easiest growing mushrooms, of the fastest growing, the slowest, and so forth. Orders were made, buttons clicked, and boxes shipped to where she lived, and her obsession slowly came into fruition. Her home was now a laboratory in its own right, a little makeshift in design, but it worked all the same: in one corner, a long table held six different bottles of various lengths, each filled with some strangely colored liquids; near her door, the lab coat she threw on whenever she got home, waited patiently for her arms to run through its sleeves; on the kitchen stove and counters, where food should have been, were boxes of that were labeled “FRAGILE” on their sides.

Anne got home from work a little later than she had wanted and got to work immediately. First, she was to pick which fungi she would use. Lion’s mane was too loose and willow-like, it would be irritating to touch, she thought. Mealy tooth, Hydnellum ferrugineum, was too ugly for her to even consider. Slowly, she went through a list, Amanita franchetii, Calocera cornea, until she finally found the one she wished to take and inject. A beautiful thing, more beautiful than the others she had liked, Hydnellum peckii, Devil’s Tooth, with droplets that exuded from its pink and fertile undersurface. Not poisonous, but not exactly edible, it was perfect – something safe, something that won’t kill her, something that would change her body, but leave her virtually unharmed and unscathed. The other fungi were unpacked and planted in their own respective pots, and the Devil’s Tooth was left in its packaging, where it would wait until its time had come to be poked and prodded.

Second came the experiment itself. Her hypothesis was written out, I predict that when injected with fungi, Hydnellum peckii, I will gain some attributes of this fungi, and now all Anne needed to do was prove herself right. She grabbed a tourniquet from her table, wrapping it around her arm until a vein was visible. Then came the sterilization of her skin, a little gauze drenched in rubbing alcohol, then her skin was made shiny with the new cold dampness. A syringe, fresh and sterile, was brandished against one of the fungi's droplets, and she pulled the handle towards her. Red, strawberry-blood liquid filled the syringe almost immediately, and she smiled to herself, a mutter of finally on her tongue. Finally, finally, finally, the needle was steadily pushed against her skin, into the vein – Anne winced, a little bit of ache worked through – and the contents were emptied into her bloodstream.

Immediately, there was calm. And immediately, Anne bent forwards over her table, the empty syringe dropping to the floor and her hands slamming on the wood. Pain coursed through her body, uncomfortable, and yet it felt as if it belonged there, and then settled. Her mouth was open, as if waiting for a yell or scream to leave, but it never came. Slowly, she straightened out, and began to clean up.

–––

Three days had passed since her experiment, and disappointment was beginning to set in. There had been no results, or anything visible, so to say, from the fungi, except for a bit of nausea that came and went. Anne had gone to work, the same as any other day, and returned home to check her face, her arms and legs, for any sign of change, and then - same as always: nothing new to log. Quickly, she became frustrated. She considered giving up her profession altogether and committing herself to her new mundanity. She thought heavily about throwing away her syringes and beakers, her notebooks and experiment notes, and for once in her career, she felt uneasy. This failure, if she were quick to call it that, felt wrong. Anne checked her notes. She checked her measurements and rechecked after that. Everything was correct, everything was done in the right order, with nothing left behind or overdone, so why was there no change?

A week had passed since her experiment, a week of mundane living. Nothing but a few aches here and there plagued Anne, and nothing was written down as interesting or special. However, on the beginning of the new week, the normalcy broke. It started faint and almost as nothing, with a bit of red pus oozing from her neck in the shape of a burst pimple. Immediately she was excited for this - something new, something fresh! It was underneath her jaw, the red river that flowed from her skin and stained almost everything she touch, and proved itself to be more of a nuisance than anything. Then the aches and pains started again, this time a bit stronger than before. Soon, she was unable to stand for longer than a few moments without being attacked in her side by a sharp jolt. Within the week, the red oozing spot grew larger, and the pains more frequent, often knocking Anne off her feet and sending her to lay in her bed, where she felt most comfortable and relaxed. Beneath her sheets was warm and soft, the perfect place to house her body just in case any other effects decided to come when she least expected them. Her occupation was forgotten, her mind taken up with how her body finally reacted to the fungi, how her hands shook when she attempted to write in her journal, how her eyes watered when she managed to stand for a mere few moments. Despite these changes, and despite the pain she felt, Anne enjoyed every moment of it. She reveled in the fact that she, herself, had done something deemed impossible and – more importantly – proven her old coworkers wrong. Now, Anne was correct in her experiment. She was correct, and she knew herself to be better than those who shamed her.

After another week, these effects had stopped. The oozing went away overnight, as if it had never happened, and the pains had subsided. She was expected to be at work once more, a duty neglected over the last few days in favor of her own experiments and thoughts. Returning was a dreadful deed, unwanted and frankly unneeded, but she did it anyways. She could barely focus to the words of anyone, to her customers who called or the coworkers who spoke to her or in her general direction. Curiosity had overtaken her, and slight disappointment had replaced the excitement she had felt once again. Why had the fungi’s effects only lasted for a week? She thought, both to herself and to any coworker who would allow her to tell them of the events. Why did they not continue? Why did they stop so suddenly? These questions puzzled her and even troubled her, making Anne scratch her head with a fierceness. Then, a curiosity overtook her: what if she injected herself with too little of the substance? What if she needed more, in order to experience full, more robust effects? Then another thought overtook her: what if she mixed the fungi with another, different specimen? What would happen then? Would she remain as human as she was now, or would she transform entirely into some pain-filled, oozing mess?

Once work had ended, once Anne had reached home, the curiosity took hold of her once more. It seeped into her bones and sat in her skull like some old friend, banging against her brain - the interest, the intrigue, made her dizzy until she returned to the boxes of fungi, returned to the putrid and smelly things, and grabbed the first one that caught her eye: Hygrophorus eburneus, Cowboy’s Handkerchief. Because of the other fungi packed along with it, this one smelled putrid, the scent filling Anne’s nose and making her cheeks bulge. She wretched and gagged as she removed it from the box, the waxy head brushing against her hands and adding more to the discomfort she already felt. But here she was, consumed with curiosity, with want, and so she pushed through it. Again, she remade her laboratory in her home. Again, she sterilized a syringe and needle, and again she wrapped her arm with tourniquet and carefully, slowly, watched as the syringe inhaled the waxy substance inside the fungi. Then, she watched as the needle-syringe expelled the substance into her ready vein. This time, the effects hit quicker than the first. In an instant, a burning sensation filled her arm, and the wound where the needle penetrated spewed some red-white goo. Anne bent over once more, a pain filling her abdomen and then slowly crawling through her entire body; she opened her mouth and spittle dripped from the side of her lips. She screamed, silently, then lowered her body to the floor, and then, something strange happened - she laughed.

Anne laughed, gentle at first, then a bit louder as she gripped her stomach. Her nails dug into her skin, adding to the pain she already felt, and to stop laughing felt worse than anything she’d ever felt. Anne laughed, and from the needle-syringe wound, still spouting red-yellow ooze, grew a new plant. This intrigued Anne, just as the original oozing had intrigued her. Once again everything else was neglected, and this new plant became her only priority; she watched over it, cared for it the same as she would care for any plant. Once again, she found herself sinking back into bed due to pains that afflicted her, and once again the oozing returned, her own humanity thrown away for the fungi she injected herself with. She found herself calling out of work too often, and her supervisor calling her home even more so.

“Anne,” she would always begin with a sigh, “you cannot just abandon your desk.” And she would rant on how good workmanship was required for this position, and she would question if Anne actually wanted this second chance at a normal, mundane job. Anne would laugh at her, sometimes under her breath, sometimes aloud.

“I’m doing great things,” she would tell her supervisor. “I am doing things you can only dream of doing, and I won’t be persuaded into coming back there.”

Her supervisor sighed again, then would hang up the phone without another word or thought. Within the week, Anne received another call that she had been fired, and would be required to pick up her things sooner rather than later.

Finally, Anne thought, she was free to focus on her mission. Finally, she was free to document her fleeting humanity, the plant that grew from her side growing stronger and healthier and more beautiful each day, the oozing becoming almost unbearably putrid as it gushed from her neck. Soon more syringes found their way inside her veins, filled with puss and ooze and gushing stuff from other fungi. She digested the leaves of raw plants, even split them open and drank the water from inside them. Anything she could do to consume them, to speed up the effects, Anne would try, until finally she realized she could no longer. When the pain had become too great, when the way she doubled over caused a permanent stitch in her side, she stopped. When the plant that grew from her broke off and attached itself to her foot, where it grew multiple different children, she stopped. When her humanity had found its final leg, and she was bedridden due to the pain, to the way bile rose and down in her throat whenever she stood up and tried to walk, Anne’s experiment was complete.

Still, she laughed. When she vomited red and white ooze, she laughed. Underneath her warm sheets, covered in a thin layer of sweat and puss, she laughed to herself, until new plant matter and fungi grew inside her throat, and she could laugh no longer.

#my writing.#short stories #black writing on tumblr #this is only the first draft if i hate it i'll edit it but i wanted to share it !!!#black writers on tumblr

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