#it hurts me each time god dammit

[radiotorn]

i used to be their smiley :((((((

[satorusugurugurl]

I love your writing!!!

Can i req Jjk men accidentally hurting reader during sex? If that’s ok w u, if not, it’s all good <33

JJK Men: Accidentally Hurting You In the Middle of Smexy Time

Summary: Things get a little too passionate in the middle of sexy time. And well, let's say tears are shed and not in a good way.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,337

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, biting, injury, crack, fluff, it's a fluffy crack post

A/N: This was so much fun to write! Love my some little crack posts like this!! I hope you enjoy! 😆

Gojo Satoru:

You smirk as Satoru throws his head back against the pillows. His mouth is hanging wide open as your rock back and forth on his cock. Slowly teasing him, clamping down to the point that he’s writhing under you. His hands are holding your hips, squeezing you, urging you to go faster, to do something!

“Y-Y/N, I need more, fuck!” He bites down on his bottom lip, looking at your conjoined bodies. “You’re killing me, babe, please, fuck.”

“More?” You cooed your thumb, brushing over his bottom lip. “Does my poor Toru want me to fuck his brains out~?”

“Y-Yes!!” He cried out, growling as you slowly inched off his cock before slamming back down. “Hah! Ah fuck~!!”

You bounced up and down, and the squelching sounds of your pussy were nearly silent as Satoru cried out. How cute was he? Crying out like a whore while you used his cock. So pretty, the sight had you throbbing around him as you arched your back, playing with your breasts.

Satoru was whimpering as he watched your thumbs graze over your erect nipples. That wasn't fair! He wanted to suck on them, lap his tongue over the sensitive buds. He moved, thrusting up into you as he tried to sit up. The deep thrust and sudden jerky movement had you wobbling. You fell forward. Ready to brace yourself on his chest only to meet his head.

Your foreheads collided together in a sickening crack. “Ow!” Your hand flew up to your head as Satoru rubbed at his forehead, grimacing. “Ooooh fuck that hurt!” You pulled off of him, hurrying to the bathroom. “Toru!” You snarled, touching the already swelling goose egg forming on your head.

“S’ your fault.” You glared into the mirror as he stood in the doorway. His cock was still erect, your arousal glistening on the shaft. “You fell forward!”

“Because you thrust into me!”

“I only moved because I wanted to suck on your nipples.”

“And I got a goose egg instead!” Your pout was adorable as you poked at the bump on your head again. “Dammit! What are you going to do to make it up to me?” Satoru stiffened, eyes quickly meeting yours in the mirror.

“I'm sorry?”

“I said, what are you going to do to make this up to me? You promised you'd never hurt me. And look who broke their word Sa-to-ru-” Each syllable of his name had his cock twitching eagerly. He moved, lifting you off the ground and carrying you back into the bedroom. “Oh my god!” You squealed as he threw you on the bed, slotting between your legs.

“I’ll make the pain go away,” Satoru whispered, dragging his tongue down your body. “You'll feel better in no time.” He winked before dipping his head between your thighs, his matching goose egg on full display.

Geto Suguru:

“Mmm~ nngh fuck Y/N, you taste so fucking good.” Suguru breathes out against your pussy before his tongue flicks at your clit again. “So sweet and tangy, fuck I want more of you.”

You’re a mess underneath him; your back is arching off the living room floor, your shorts thrown somewhere behind the couch as the warm spring breeze blows through the room. It carries the scent of fresh blooming flowers and the promise of sunny days. Which meant allergy season was to follow with it.

You gasped, hands gripping Suguru’s bun as he pulled you closer to his mouth. “S-Suguru~!” His lips sealed firmly around your clit as his dark eyes locked on yours. Why did he look so pretty when he was eating you out? That had to be a crime somewhere in the world. But as his teeth ever so gently grazed over your clit, all other thoughts went flying out the window. “F-fuuuck! Hah! Ah fuck!”

Suguru moaned, alternating his technique from nibbling your clit, to writing his name against you, using the tip of his tongue. His skills were being used at full force, eager to get you to cum all over his tongue before he fucked you right here in the living room. He knew it wouldn't take much for you to cum.

You tightened your grip on his hair, a familiar feeling settling over you. But it wasn’t your orgasm, no, this feeling was in your sinus’. It was a burning sensation that had your nose scrunching as your toes curled. Feeling a sneeze approaching, you covered your nose with your elbow as you sneezed hard, jerking against Suguru’s face. The sudden jerky movement from your sneeze startled your boyfriend so much that he slammed his teeth shut.

Just as he was nibbling on your clit.

You screamed in pain, your thighs clamping around your boyfriend's head as you yanked him away. Those dark eyes that had just been filled with lust were now filled with fear. You curled in on yourself, hands dipping between your legs, cupping your pussy. This new throbbing sensation was not at all enjoyable. Suguru sat back, staring at you in shock as tears stained your cheeks.

“Oh fuck, I bit your clit.” He stated the obvious.

”Yeah! No shit!” You barked back, tears still flowing down your cheeks as you grimaced.

“Oh fuck, what do I need to do? How can I help? I’m so sorry.”

”I don’t know, Suguru!” You sat up, still cupping your wet sex. “No one has ever bit my clit before!!”

The silence is almost palpable between you before Suguru turns to your couch. “Hey, Google, what do I do if I bite my girl—”

“Don’t ask out Google Home, you freak!”

In the end, Google provided you with the answer: Hot water, antibacterial soap, and ibuprofen.

Nanami Kento:

Hot water hit your back as Nanami fucked you from behind. Fuck it was so steamy, and you were talking about the water. Nanami was like an animal slamming into you over and over again. His grunts and growls bounced off the bathroom walls, making your cunt throb harder. God, he was so hot; everything about this was so hot.

All this happened because you mentioned you’d never had shower sex before. Best confession you’ve ever made!

Nanami grabbed a handful of your hair by yanking it. “Head up, love, I don't want you getting dizzy.” He was utterly perfect and patiently led you through this experience. Nanami was making it an overwhelmingly pleasurable experience! “Now, put your foot up here.” He grabbed your leg, positioning it on the edge of the tub. “And enjoy the ride.”

That was the only warning you were given before Nanami pulled all the way out before slamming back inside of you. You arched, silently screaming as he set a pace that had your skin slapping against each other in a beautiful harmony. God fuck, holy fuck he was so deep in this position. You could feel his cock hitting your g-spot and cervix perfectly with each thrust.

“N-Nana! Nanami!” you cried out as he slammed into you harder with a grunt, water going everywhere, from the walls and the side of the tub for the mere force of his thrusts. “K-Kiss, kiss me.”

“As you wish.” Kento’s lips found yours in a heated, passionate kiss. You felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Feeling you could squeeze around his thick cock, Nanami slid his hand over your stomach, pushing down on your back and making you arch.

This was a position you had done countless times in the past. On hotel balconies, against walls, and in his office. The only difference this time was that water was involved. When he suddenly pushed you forward, your foot on the tub's edge slipped. You fell forward, grabbing the shower curtain for support.

“Y/N!” Nanami tried reaching you, but it happened so fast. You slipped, falling out of the side of the shower. Your shoulder collided with the bathroom countertop. Nanami knew it was bad the second he heard a loud pop. The pain hit you like a train as you landed on your side, gasping out a strangled scream.

Nanami turned the water off and jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and draping it over you before dropping to his knees. “Oh fuck, that hurts.” You winced, your fingers and neck numb. “That hurts bad!”

“Here, let's get you up.” As Nanami helped you stand, both of you winced at the same time as you assessed the damage. That popping sensation was the sound of your shoulder dislocating; your arm dangled uselessly at your side. “Y/N, I'm so sorry. I should have been more careful.”

“No, no, it's okay! It was an accident, Ken.” You sighed, turning to look up at him. “We should go see Shoko.” Nanami huffed out a sigh, nodding his head before leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll call us a car.”

You followed after him, groaning. “Do you think Gojo will be there?” Nanami froze midstep, turning to face you as he got dressed. “He wouldn't let us live this down. He might even submit our story to one of those trashy television shows like ‘Sex Sent Me to The E.R.’ or something like that.”

“On second thought, we're going to the hospital.”

Choso Kamo:

“Choso!” Yuuji yelled from the living room of the apartment. Voice muffled from behind the closed door of the bedroom. Choso loved his brothers, but right now, he was more in love with being balls deep inside of you.

Your boyfriend's hand was clamped over your mouth as he rocked into you as hard as he could. If you both were quiet enough, maybe he'd leave. Yuuji called out for his older brother again as you whined against his palm. His cock throbbed, the bed rocking faster as Yuuji muttered something that sounded like a goodbye before the apartment door opened and shut.

The second he realizes you two are good, he pulls his hand away. “Awe, Cho~ are you shy?” Choso glances down at your smug smirk before he flushes.

“Y-You're his teacher. I-Isn't it strange?”

You purse your lips in thought before smirking. “What’s strange is the fact that you aren't fucking me right now, Choso~” With wide eyes and red cheeks, your boyfriend did as precisely as you asked.

His hips bucked forward, his large hands moving from the sides of your head to your thighs, where he spread your legs further apart. You screamed out, throwing your head back in pleasure as his trailed kisses over your collarbone. He was so deep, you didn’t want to let him go; your cunt hugged him tight, making it difficult for him to pull out.

The constricting grip your pussy had on him made Choso’s eyebrows scrunch together as his balls slapped against your ass. You were so wet and tight. If you kept squeezing him like this, he wasn’t going to last very long at all. But from how you squirmed, surely you weren’t doing any better than him.

“Choso~! Choso~! Oh fuck~! Yes, baby, baby, please~!!”

“Y/N, fuck! Haa— I’m going to cum~ I’m so close~!” He gritted out, the bed squeaking under you from the force of his thrusts.

“Choso!!” He flinched, hearing the door slam open again in the living room. “Bro, I know you’re here! I can see it on the Find My Friends app!”

“Just like that! Just like th-mmmmph!!” Choso's hands flew up, hitting you in the mouth and nose. Harder than he meant to. Your eyes stung as your nose throbbed painfully against the palm of his hand. “Mmnn.” You cried out, tears welling in your eyes.

Choso’s head was turned to the bedroom door. His chest was rising and falling as he listened to Yuuji, and oh god, was that Megumi with him? Why were they heading this way? You both had to do something! Oh, right, you would know what to do! Choso’s head whipped back to you as he felt something warm spreading over his palms.

Tears were sliding onto his fingers, your tears. Choso quickly jerked them away, and he was met with a gory sight. Blood was smeared under your nose and over your lips. The stream of tears made pink streams run down your chin as you sat up, reaching for a tissue.

“Y/N?! Oh sweetheart, fuck I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He glanced at the palms of his hands that were stained crimson. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard!”

“No! It’s okay!” Your voice was muffled as you squeezed gently on your nose to stop the blood flow. “You were distracted. Plus, it’s not like I haven’t been hit in the nose before.” You gave him a thumbs-up with your free hand. “Just the first time it’s happened when I was having sex!”

Just before Choso could take over holding the tissue for you, his door flew open. “Choso!?” Yuuji was about to walk in, but he froze, taking in the scene before him. His older brother, under the sheets naked, was in bed with his teacher, who squeaked, hiding her also very naked body against his brother.

And there was blood, lots of blood.

In a panic, Choso tried to get up to explain what was happening. But Yuuji slammed the door before silence rang out. Choso’s head dropped while you kept holding the tissue to your nose.

“I-I’m going to the movies with Megumi and Kugisaki. I’ll be home later, Choso.”

“A-Alright, be careful.”

“See you on Monday, Y/L/N-Sensei!”

Choso sat there mortified as he processed what had just happened. Not only did he unintentionally hurt his girlfriend, but his younger brother had walked in on him. The stuffy giggle that slowly had him turning his head to look at you. Your smile was wide, and your cheeks were flushed. That shy grin made his shoulders feel lighter. He knew the two of you would get through this awkward situation together.

[spaceyrosie]

I won't hurt you anymore

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Summary: you got hurt that caused you to be hospitalised while your dad was out for a case and instead of comforting you, Hotch came home angry about your decision.

Warnings: heavy angst, sadness, reader got hurt, Haley’s death, (tw: abandonment issues), Hotch was in the wrong, only slight comfort in the end

Author’s note: I only write sad things :( but here's another angst father-daughter relationship (no, not that kind of relationship 😌)

Word count: 1.2k

Hotch was tired, no he was exhausted.

But he has never felt this scared. He fumbled with his keys, the metal cold against his clammy skin, his movements jerky with adrenaline. 

Bursting through the apartment door, he was met with the flickering blue light of the television illuminating the living room with the sound muted. There, on the sofa, a small silhouette huddled beneath a blanket, their form dwarfed by the oversized furniture.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?!” The words erupted from him, booming into the silent living room. Hotch wasn’t thinking straight. All he could feel was fear choking him, making his voice course.

You flinched at the harshness in his tone. Your gaze remained fixed on the late-night talk show playing silently on the screen, your mind not registering anything.

"I had to pull myself out of an active case," he continued his voice a low growl. It was a telltale sign, a chink in his usually stoic armour that betrayed the fear gnawing at him. "Only for Garcia to call me telling me that the hospital called and you had discharged yourself," He trailed off, frustration lacing his voice. "Dammit, y/n, I told Anderson to stay with you! Gosh, what were you thinking?!"

Silence stretched, thick and heavy, suffocating the room with unspoken words. Hotch tapped his foot impatiently, a reflection to the frantic hammering of his heart. He needed a response, anything to break the suffocating quiet.

You shifted, the movement sending a fresh jolt of pain through your injured arm. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to focus, to clear the fog of confusion and pain clouding your mind. 

But the only thing that came through was a suffocating tightness in your chest, a pressure that had nothing to do with the broken bone.

“Say something, y/n Hotchner!” His voice was clipped, laced with a tightly leashed anger.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them. "No, Dad, you didn’t leave the team," you whispered, your voice raw with barely contained tears. "You had to leave me." You spoke quietly, the words echoing in the silence of the apartment.

Hotch's breath hitched. He closed his eyes for a moment, the stark accusation in your voice a physical blow.

“You left me.,” you continued, your voice monotone but laced with a tremor that betrayed your calm facade. “I was hurt, scared and alone but you left me.”

“Did you know how scared I was when Garcia called saying you left against medical advice?” His voice rose trying to defend on his outburst.

The sound of your choked sob shattered the peace, “I was scared, dad!” You all but shouted, the raw pain in your voice made Hotch stunned as he looked at your teary face. “I was scared and alone and in so much pain.” Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision.. 

“Do you know how scary it was?” You choked out, each word causing your chest to heave. “I needed someone-”

“Honey, I-” He started, his voice thick with remorse.

“I needed my dad,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “But you weren’t there.” This time you dared into his eyes, hoping to find any closure from the overwhelming emotions brewing in your chest.

The accusation hung heavy in the air, hitting him like a physical blow. 

He knelt before you, his gaze drawn to the telltale signs of your ordeal – the bandage on your arm, the stitches marring your face, a face so similar to your mother, the loss of his life. His heart ached, a dull throbbing that mirrored the dull ache of regret in his gut. He tried to hold your shoulders, but you flinched before shrugging it off.

“I want Mom,” you cried out, somehow pleading for an inconceivable wish. “Why can’t you be here for me?” It was as if a dam had broken within you, unleashing a torrent of pent-up emotions.

“I- honey, I-”  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, he managed a choked, "I'm so sorry, honey."

Sorry doesn’t even begin to the sorrow he felt.

“Why didn’t you hold me? I needed you!”

You buried your face in your hands, the events of the day crashing down on you with renewed intensity. 

“How could you send Anderson?" you continued, the anger a desperate attempt to hold back the tide of tears. "We're in the same city, Dad!”

“You can’t even make time for me, even when I’m hurt.” And the words did not stop pouring, all the pain you felt when he left you for work. Since your Mom died a year ago, you noticed he had taken more work, staying up late at the Bureau and bringing work home. It hurts you, of course it did. 

"I hate you!" The words tore from your throat. You didn't mean it, not truly, but the pain and fear were a tangled mess in your chest, spilling out in the most primal way you knew how. Hotch took you into his arms as you struggle against his hold.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Your fists pounded a weak rhythm against his back, more out of frustration than anger.

"Shh…shh… I’m sorry," he soothed as he held onto his ground. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry." His voice was thick with remorse as he held you close.

A choked sob escaped your lips, the words "I hate you" dissolving into a whimper. Tears streamed down your face, hot and stinging, soaking the fabric of his suit. "I hate you," you whispered again, the accusation laced with a tremor of fear. "Why can't I hate you?"

Hotch rocks you gently, “I got you now, honey. I got you.”

He understood the illogical outburst, the desperate need to lash out at the one person who was supposed to be a constant. The sobs eventually subsided into hiccups, your body trembling with exhaustion. Hotch didn't let go, his embrace a silent promise of safety.

Pulling back slightly, his thumb brushed away a tear that fell from your eyes. His gaze, softened with a tenderness you hadn't seen in a while. "Look at me, y/n," he murmured.

"There's no excuse for leaving you when you were afraid and hurting," he said, each word heavy with sincerity. "And the regret of neglecting you will stay with me. I can't rewind time, but I promise, honey, I'll be there for you from now on."

A flicker of doubt, a remnant of your hurt, crossed your eyes. "Even when you're working a case?" 

Hotch met your gaze, "It's past time I make you a priority," he said. "I'm so sorry I didn't make that decision sooner." A heavy silence settled between you, thick with the weight of his words and the unspoken promises they carried.

He held you close, a silent promise echoing in his embrace. Your eyelids grew heavy, the emotional rollercoaster taking its toll. He continued to rock you gently, a steady rhythm against the silence of the apartment.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. 

"I'm here now." 

[chilling-seavey]

A request for George after his win! Surprising him with lingerie underneath your outfit when he gets back to Monaco

↳ A/N Thank you for this, anon! I know you sent it after Austria but I wasn't quite feeling inspired until the events of his Belgian weekend. I know you must have been hoping for elation but we can't have the highs without the lows. This came of it (and was a great way to purge my feelings-)

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 3.8k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, oral (m receiving, kinda deep throating?), slight cum play, desecrating items that loosely symbolize the Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team after the heartbreak of Sunday, July 28th, this is also incredibly unedited so don't come for me if it sucks LOL

George felt so out of place returning home empty handed. It was as if his mind hadn’t processed what the fuck had happened. That morning, getting into the car, his goal was a podium at best. Suddenly, he had found himself on top step of all places after a risky one-stop race he managed to pull off against all odds. Then, in the midst of his elation, the news broke that he was disqualified for his car being 1.5kg underweight. 

He could still feel the weight of the trophy in his hands, the shiny gold metal under his lips, the rapid thudding of his heartbeat in his ears as he was caught in the arms of his team. The team that had betrayed him with an underweight car and being the cause of his beautiful first place trophy to be snatched from his hands. Oh, God, he swore his heart had never hurt this badly after a race before in his entire career. Anger and sadness were a toxic, cruel mix.

It was a blessing and a curse that it was now summer break. On one hand, it gave him a good amount of time to catch his breath, recharge, and come back ready to fight. On the other hand, his disqualification left a pit in his stomach that he was going to be stuck feeling for the following three weeks until he could rewrite himself a new race. The whole flight back to Monaco, he just wanted to get home and curl into a ball and rot for three weeks. He angrily ranted in his head that he didn’t want to see another statistic, another car, another person until Zandvoort, dammit. 

But then he saw you, sitting in the warm light of the dining room when he stepped across the threshold of your modest apartment. He saw you and all the tension in his body just melted and he thanked God that you were his person he could see for the next three weeks. 

Of course, you knew what had happened. If it wasn’t thanks to the plethora of Formula 1 news and updates that were filling up your phone, it was the emotional texts from George, the tearful phone call from his drivers room, that undeniable connection you had to him that made your heart absolutely ache for him. The moment he stepped inside, you were shutting your laptop and taking the few quick strides across the hardwood floor and throwing your arms around him. 

He melted into your arms like butter.

You instinctively slid your hands around his back, rubbing along his spine, feeling him exhale in your embrace like he hadn’t been able to breathe the whole trip home. His strong arms wrapped around you tightly, burying his face in your neck with a shaky inhale as if trying to pull you into all of his senses. 

“Oh, my love…” you cooed gently, tangling your hand in the back of his hair to scratch your fingers through the roots consolingly, “You’re home.”

George held onto you for a moment longer, accepting the comfort of your embrace, “Yeah.”

You pulled away just far enough to share a fleeting chasté kiss, your hands naturally finding each others between your bodies. You pressed another kiss to his cheek as his eyes drifted over your shoulder to look across the apartment. On the console table in the living room sat his trophy from Brazil and his trophy from Austria. Beside them, the empty space looked miles wide. It was supposed to be a trio. He had made it a trio. 

He shut his eyes for a moment again in frustration and exhaustion, “I just want to sleep. Forget today ever happened.”

You studied his downcast gaze for a moment, the way he stared at your joint hands, your thumbs caressing his knuckles. In a whisper, you pitched in a soft light tone, “I was hoping we could celebrate…like we usually do after a podium or a win…”

George let out a dry laugh, “There’s nothing to celebrate, love.”

“Yes, there is.” you insisted strongly, “This is still your win, no matter what the FIA says. That’s bullshit. This was the best race of your career and you won it on your own merits.”

“What do I have to show for it?” he retorted almost sharply, as if he didn’t want to talk about this anymore, “Nothing. Lewis got his 105th P1 trophy and I got nothing.”

“Don’t say that.” you insisted, “He got your P1 trophy. It was gifted to him, not earned.”

George’s shoulders slumped, and he mumbled, “It just hurts so bad.” 

“I know. I feel it too.” you breathed, “My heart breaks for you. I wish there was something I could do to take away your hurt.”

“There’s nothing you can do.” George sighed, defeated, stepping away from you to head farther into the kitchen to fetch himself a glass from the cupboard. “The rules are the rules. It’s a brutal sport and sometimes, honestly, it’s fucking unfair. There’s nothing either of us can do to make any of this feel better.”

You leaned forward on the peninsula countertop, watching as he poured himself a glass of water. His face was still stone and flat despite the flush of his cheeks from the hurricane of emotions stirring within him for the last however many hours. He didn’t deserve this. Despite everything, you knew that there was something you could do to at least take his mind off of the chaos and upset of the day. Your lips pursed in thought and then you replied to his statement in a blasé tone, “Fine. Then I guess I shouldn’t bother with your surprise.”

He perked up a little, almost like a dog, his eyes snapping back over to you as he stopped pouring, “What surprise?” 

You shrugged modestly and took a step back from the counter, letting your hands fall to your sides, “Oh, nothing. You don’t want to celebrate so…”

“Well, hold on a second,” George put the water filter back in the fridge and closed it so he could give his full attention to you. The peninsula stretched between you, the clink of his glass on the countertop the only sound for a moment. He spoke again, eyes trained on you, “You got me something?”

“Of sorts.” you took another step away, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, “I’ll show you, but you’re not up for it so…”

George’s eyes followed the movement of your hands as you started to pull up the bottom of your shirt, his eyebrows slowly raising with it in anticipation. You finally dropped your shirt to the ground, revealing the lacy teal bra you wore, the fabric standing out against your skin. Around your waist rested a matching teal garter belt that accentuated your curves, its silk straps disappearing down past the waistband of your slacks. His tongue darted out between his lips habitually at the sight of you, eyes skimming down your body as you dropped your pants and kicked them to the side to show off the matching pair of panties on your hips and the lace garters that hugged your thighs. 

“Jesus.” George exhaled. 

“An untimely choice for Petronas teal,” you said casually, your tone holding a playful smirk, “because I know we’re mad at the team right now but…maybe that just means you can tear it off me.”

He just blinked at you, “Yes.”

“Yeah?” your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, biting back your smile, fingers tracing the shape of your breasts in the cups of your bra, “Suddenly you’re up for your surprise?” 

“It is certainly a well welcomed distraction.” George replied, basically speaking to your chest. 

“Think it’ll make you feel better?” 

“Loads.”

“Where do you want it? Bedroom or…?”

George took a step back from the counter and snapped his fingers to the floor at his feet, “Right here.”

Who were you to deny George Russell a damn thing? 

You sauntered around the counter and into the kitchen where he stood, slinging an arm around his shoulders as you both leaned in for a kiss. It was quick and simple and his hands fell to your hips as your lips met again, sharing a few more soft close-mouthed kisses as if testing the waters. After a moment, he tilted his head to the side a little and parted your lips with his own before locking your bottom one between his two. 

Your small moan had him breaking away from that kiss to quickly move in for another, raising a hand up to the side of your face to hold you there. You swore you could taste the remanence of champagne on his tongue as it nudged against yours; a reminder that he was the winner through and through. In everything but the obvious, he was the winner. Your winner. 

Butterflies shot through your stomach as he deepened your kisses, resting his thumb under your chin to guide you into each one and you followed his lead with ease. The two of you fell into a familiar rhythm of lips and tongues, filling the kitchen with the lewd sound of your kisses. George’s hand was warm against the small of your back, resting there politely for a few moments, just above the fabric of your panties. 

Your hands slid down his chest over his t-shirt, blindly fisting the material with a nudge upwards to silently get him to take it off. He pulled away from your lips long enough to do just that, aimlessly letting his shirt fall onto the countertop. His eyes were already falling half-lidded and lustful, staring at you almost down his nose with this sinful expression and this bite to his swollen bottom lip that could have had you dropping your knees in an instant. Instead, you dusted a kiss to his angular jaw line, his neck, his throat; feeling his small groan under your lips. 

You kissed down his chest, between his pecs, over his abs - your hands trailing after sensually, rising goosebumps over his tanned skin. As you sank to your knees in front of him on the kitchen floor he pulled in a shaky inhale, his fingers carding through your hair. 

“My three time race winner.” you purred up to him as you slowly unbuttoned his slacks, moving slowly and sensually to drag it on a little longer, building on that anticipation that thudded warmth through his veins. “I think you deserve a reward for your performance today.”

Before he could reply with any kind of half-self-deprecating rebuttal about his unfair disqualification, your hand was slipping through his fly and giving his clothed cock a squeeze over his underwear. George withered slightly, words dying at his lips, channeling his emotions into the reassurance of your touch and how much he had missed your presence throughout the weekend. You always knew how to take his mind away from the darkest places. 

“Mm,” you hummed contently as you palmed him strongly, feeling the thick shape of him pressing against your hand through his briefs, “already getting hard for me, aren’t you?”

George breathed out a dreamy, “Yeah.”

You tugged at the waistband of his slacks a little to force him a half step closer, just so you could lean in and press a slow, open mouthed kiss to the bulge he was hiding beneath the fabric. Your eyes fluttered up to look at his face, finding him already staring down at you, and you sent him a sultry smile with your fingers linking in the waistband of his underwear

Without a word, you pulled them and his slacks down his legs, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you watched him be revealed before your eyes. You had seen him naked and uncountable number of times but in moments like that, he still managed to take your breath away. 

You left his pants and underwear forgotten around his ankles as your priority quickly shifted to something far more pressing. In a gentle hand, you cupped his balls and his dick in one go, feeling the weight of him hungrily. Your unwavering gaze stared at how he stiffened up some more right before your eyes, forcing you to habitually lick your lips. You were salivating. 

“My God, baby,” you breathed, giving him a tender squeeze just to pull a groan from his chest, “You have such a pretty cock.”

“All yours.” George replied easily, his accent thick with lust, his slender fingers still brushing through your hair. 

“All mine.” you echoed. 

Keeping his eye contact, you leaned in to purse your lips and press a slow, wet kiss right to the tip. His chest shuddered through his next inhale at your action, staring down at you wide-eyed and needy. 

You raised your other hand to join your first, using one to cradle his balls while the other held his cock steady for you to press another precise kiss to the head. Turning to press another kiss to the length, you hummed in appreciation for the warmth under your lips. Holding him tenderly in your hands, you tried not to smirk too wide at your own ridiculousness as you teased up to him, “I dunno how they declared your car underweight when you were carrying this heavy load.” 

George let out a breathy genuine laugh, shutting his eyes for a second and lolling his head back in disbelief over your corny words, “Jesus, love.”

“So delicious.” you hummed, licking your lips before teasingly lapping at the tip with your tongue, earning a tight gasp from his throat. “So, so, delicious.” 

Keeping your hands in place, you swirled your tongue around the swollen head of his cock before settling your lips around it for a soft suckle. Your eyes fluttered closed as you stayed like that for a moment, testing the waters, giving him the slightest suction and warmth of your mouth. 

“Darling-” George withered, his hand slipping to the back of your head to try and pull you deeper. 

You pulled back again, pausing just long enough to spit on it, letting your hand start to move to slick him up in it, before you answered innocently, “What is it?”

George chuckled breathily, “You are such a tease.”

You smiled sweetly up at him, keeping your hand moving in precise twisting strokes, “Does my race winner want me to suck his dick? Give him his reward for a job well done?”

You dribbled more spit onto the tip, letting your hand move a little faster. He inhaled sharply at the change in pace, fingers almost tugging at the back of your hair with need to get your mouth back on him. You held back.

“Please, love, I need it. I need your mouth.” George purred, his voice dreamy and rich.

“And you deserve it.” you reminded him.

And then you were swallowing him up in one smooth motion. 

“O-Oh, fuck-” George gasped sharply, his entire body flinching at the sudden presence of your warm, wet mouth around him. His eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched, trying to keep his composure with a stiff grunt. 

He tasted warm and slightly salty against your tongue, resting thick and heavy in your mouth. You could have stayed there on your knees with him just settled in your mouth all night but the desire to bring him pleasure outweighed your selfishness. So, you started moving in slow bobs of your head with your hand still snug around the base to keep him where you needed him. 

Up and down, in and out, slowly and surely. You kept your tongue running along the underside of his thick cock with every stroke, making sure to hollow your cheeks every time you pulled back. You knew what he liked. 

George never pushed you but he always encouraged you; his hand resting on the back of your head and following your motions to help you keep your tame pace, only pulling you along the slightest bit. He was staring down at you with a lascivious gaze, long lashes hiding dilated blue eyes, swollen pink lips parted to let out breathy gasps and soft moans. You pushed yourself a little deeper. 

“Crikey-”

His ridiculous exclamation had you letting out a small wet laugh that, given that your mouth was full of dick, sounded more like a gag than anything. His fingers tightened in your hair with a handsome moan from his chest, wanting to make you do that again. 

You slowly nuzzled your mouth farther, choking slightly on him until your eyes were watering and spit was trickling down your chin. When he reached as far as you could easily take him, your body lurched with a wet gag and you pulled away. 

“Fuck, love, you’re insatiable.” George praised. 

You took a second to catch your breath, smiling proudly up at him as your hand took over for your mouth for a moment. The slick sound of your spit under every quick pump of your palm filled the otherwise silent kitchen, luring more melodic moans from your beloved’s throat. Everything about him was perfect to you; a perfect man who deserved the entire world. When someone tried to take the world from him, you would do everything in your power to try and make it better for him. 

With a lick and a bite to your spitty lips, you dropped your gaze from his face to your hand, watching how he looked with your fingers wrapped around his thick girth. Your other hand still cradled his balls, giving them a little squeeze and caress at the same time. 

George’s free hand dropped to the counter beside him, suddenly in need of support to keep himself upright.

You giggled sweetly and leaned in to kiss his leaking tip, once, twice, and then you were wrapping your lips around it again. This time, your hand kept going, moving in firm twisting strokes in time with your mouth. George panted from above you, fingers tangled in your hair, his hips trying not to nudge into your touch at the same time, not wanting to hurt you in the process. 

But you gladly took the initiative, gagging yourself on his cock until tears were stinging your eyes and your senses were taken up entirely by him. The scent of sex lingered in your nostrils, filling the kitchen, swirling around the two of you in a salacious cloud. It was a reminder of the balance of your lust and love, the connection you shared, how you would never stray from giving him the best treatment - no matter how filthy.

George let out a string of expletives under his breath as you worked him graciously, his eyes screwing shut. You could feel how he throbbed in your hand, already so close, so you slowed a little before pulling away again. 

He groaned in displeasure at being edged but you didn’t let him linger in that for too long. Instead, you asked him, “Where do you want to cum?”

Not having anticipated that question, George’s eyes fluttered open, his eyebrow furrowed in slight confusion as he processed your words through his lust. He licked his lips, bit them, let out a little hum in thought. Then, his gaze dropped to that pretty little set you were wearing. His eyebrows raised with a slight nod towards you, “On those perfect fucking tits.”

You smiled slyly up at him and kept your hand going, “Whatever you want, race winner.”

“Jesus, you’re so good to me.” he exhaled, taking his hand from your hair to take over for you. 

You let go of his cock, spitting on it once more to make sure he was plenty wet, and for a second you just watched as he stroked himself up to that same speed you had going prior. Right in your face, his large hand jacked himself off in frustrated tugs behind heavy breaths, staring down at you with an intense purpose behind his eyes. 

Lifting up onto your knees a little more, you used your hands to push your breasts together in your lacy teal bra so it was right up close to him. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip for a moment as you just took in the sights and sounds of it, watching him use you to get off. 

“That’s it…come on.” you encouraged warmly, glancing up at his face with a lick to your lips. 

The pleasure that was rippled across his face was gorgeous, right down to the hints of pink across his cheeks that stretched down the sides of his neck and the slight scrunch of his nose. So concentrated, on a one track mind. 

“That’s it,” you repeated, looking at his hand on his cock again, in a dizzy haze at how hot the sight was. You pressed your breasts together a little more, the teal fabric standing out in the warm light of the kitchen, and you let your stream of consciousness out to get him there faster, “That’s it. Show me how you feel about your team right now…how you hate the sight of this colour right now. Come on. Ruin it. Desecrate it. That’s it, baby, come on.”

“Fuck-” George choked out. 

“Uh huh. Come on, baby. Ruin it. That’s it.” you nodded him on, speaking a little louder as his moans and gasps rose in volume and pitch. 

And then, pretty spurts of white were shot across your chest as he moaned handsomely through the kitchen. You shifted slightly to make sure he got most of it on the bra itself, thrilled on the symbolism of what he just did entailed. 

“That’s it.” you purred as he faded out of his orgasm, “Beautiful.” 

You reached up to set your hand around his on his throbbing dick, leaning in to clean up the tip with an eager tongue and a few little suckles, making him hiss in sensitivity. Your smiling eyes locked on his face as you sat back on your haunches again, wiping your mouth and chin with your thumb before your fingers were trailing through his cum splattered across your chest and you smeared it over your bra some more. He watched you breathlessly, only letting out a soft groan as you licked your fingers off. 

Without tearing your eyes away from his, you stated teasingly, “Next time we’ll break into Brackley and have you cum all over the trophy that should have stayed yours.”

George couldn’t even word a response for a second between your outlandish ‘idea’ and the fact that you took his wrist and guided his fingers into your mouth just after. His lips trying to form a reply to no avail, wide eyes staring down at how you sucked his fingers clean, before all he could do was let out a breathy huff of laughter and turn his head away from your insistent gaze. His pleasured, suddenly shy silence spoke volumes. You grinned proudly up at him. 

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[wheeboo]

emergency contact {pt. 1} | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which an accident forces you to call your emergency contact. PAIRING. ex bf!choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. cousin!joshua but he’s only mentioned for the sake of plot) GENRE. angst, light fluff, exes to ??, hurt/comfort, second chances WARNINGS. mentions of an accident and speeding (drive safely, please!), mentions of a vague break-up, depiction of injuries, implied that reader struggles w/ mental health and goes to therapy WORD COUNT. 1.9k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 →

The moment Seungcheol got the call from the hospital, he knew that something was wrong. 

Without a second thought, he abandons everything in a fleet of urgency, almost as if he lost control of his entire body. He feels the intense pounding of his heart and the anxiety flowing through his veins as the thoughts of you lingering in the dark corners of his mind come back to him.

He remembers you telling him about setting your emergency contact under his name and expected for you to remove it after your break-up, but it seems like you didn’t make the effort to, or... just simply forgotten to. Even if you didn’t want to see him, even if the call was out of spite, Seungcheol knew that he had to be by your side. He has to. It was a promise that he made to himself.

“Come on, come on, hurry up,” Seungcheol urges frustratingly through gritted teeth, his grip tight on the steering wheel. “Drive faster, god dammit.”

As Seungcheol speeds through the streets, his knuckles turn white from the intensity of his grip. Every red light lasts an eternity, every slow-moving car in front of him tests his patience. Time seems to taunt him, stretching the seconds into feeling like hours.

Turning a corner, the hospital finally comes into view. He parks his car hastily, barely taking a moment to collect himself before rushing through the sliding doors. The pungent smell of septic hits his nostrils as he enters inside the building. Seungcheol realises it’s been a while ever since the last time he came to the hospital.

As he follows the signs and continues to walk, he feels a mixture of nervousness and anticipation thinking about seeing you, the bittersweet and painful conversations leading up to the break-up clouding his mind. Was this really the best choice?

But if you choose to push him away, he wouldn’t stop you.

Seungcheol’s steps echo loudly in the hallway as he approaches the entrance to the emergency ward. Each step brings a wave of uncertainty, making him torn between wanting to be by your side and his respect for the boundaries you may have set.

With a long, deep breath, he pushes open the door to the emergency ward, and he’s already met with an overwhelming sight𑁋doctors and nurses rushing past to attend to patients in need, the repetitive beeping of machines, and an atmosphere thick with tension.

Seungcheol steps up to the receptionist with his hands clasped nervously together. “Excuse me.”

The receptionist looks up at him with a welcoming smile. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, I received a call from... Their name is Y/N. I’m their emergency contact.” He mentally curses to himself for stumbling over his words. 

The receptionist types frantically on her keyboard. “I see, and are you the guardian of this patient?”

“Yeah, I’m...” Seungcheol takes in a breath, feeling the uncertainty building up. “I’m their boyfriend.”

The receptionist nods understandingly and gives Seungcheol a sympathetic look. "I'll check the records and find out where they are. Please wait a moment,” After what feels like an endless amount of clicking and typing, she looks back up with a glint of hope. “Yes, there is a patient under that name who has been transferred to our patient care unit in room... 214. You can proceed past those doors, continue straight ahead, and you’ll reach it.”

He thanks the receptionist and hurriedly makes his way towards the designated area. His eyes scan each of the room numbers, and after feeling like walking through a maze, he finally reaches the hallway and finds himself paused in front of your room.

Seungcheol feels his heart pounding once more, and it felt almost painful to withstand. But with a deep inhale, he gives the door a quick knock and waits a few moments before stepping inside. 

He’s met with utter silence broken only by rhythmic beating of the heart monitor. As he pushes past a drawn curtain, he finally sees your fragile form on the bed. A heavy weight settles in his chest as he takes in the sight of your injuries: one of your arms had been plastered up, a few noticeable stitches to the skin above your eyebrows, and bruises painted over the skin of your forearm and another one on your cheekbone.

Your eyes were closed and your breathing appeared steady, but he can’t bare to think the amount of pain you might be in and that he can’t do much to ease it. He wishes he can just hold you in his arms, to tell you that he was here, but he can’t do that.

Seungcheol slowly makes his way to a seat sitting against the wall, pursuing his lips together to keep himself quiet. But when he makes it to the seat, a low mumble makes him pause in place. 

“Who...” You struggle to open your eyes, vision hazy. You attempt to turn your head to the side, squinting your eyes to a blurry figure you can barely make out. “Joshua?”

Seungcheol smiles faintly. The sound of your voice makes his stomach leap.

“It’s Cheol... Uh, Seungcheol,” he corrects you. Joshua is one of his close friends and also your cousin.

“Cheol?” You find yourself instinctively sitting up at the mention of his name, but Seungcheol races to your side and places a hand at the small of your back, guiding you back down on the bed. 

“I𑁋Be careful. You were just in an accident.” When you glance down to where his hand was on your back, he swiftly takes it away.

Situating your back down on the bed, you let out a light chuckle, cringing from the slight discomfort in your chest. “I-I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said they were calling whoever was in my emergency contact, and I... remembered it was you.”

Seungcheol feels his heart clench around your words. “Do you... want me to leave?”

You pause for a moment, before shaking your head slowly. “No, it’s... You can stay,” You finally look up at him, meeting his soft gaze and his slightly disheveled appearance. “It feels comforting that you’re here, and I... don’t really want to be alone right now.”

Relief washes over Seungcheol’s face. He takes the seat from behind and brings it closer to your bed, finally able to get a close look at your face. And when you turn to look at him, you could’ve sworn something was tugging at the strings of your heart. You remember that look𑁋the same look he would give you whenever you weren’t looking at him, yet you knew he was looking at you. It was a look of fondness, a look of affection that you hadn’t seen in a long time. 

“Is it bad?” You ask him, interrupting the tension-filled silence. “My face?”

You see his expression change to worry, and he leans slightly closer to take a better look at you. His eyes trace over the bruises and clean cuts on your face, even to a small cut at the corner of your lips that he just notices, but he doesn’t mention anything about them. Instead, he gives you a gentle smile that causes his dimples to deepen slightly and a shake of his head.

“You’re still...” As beautiful as ever, he wanted to say, but he lets those words fade. “Don’t worry, they’ll all heal eventually.”

You only give a nod to his words. The air between you both hangs heavy with unspoken words as you exchange stolen glances. The room feels confined, almost suffocating, as if it's begging for the walls to break down and release the pent-up emotions the two of you were hanging on to. Perhaps you both knew what your hearts are yearning for, but why is it so hard to simply say I miss you?

Seungcheol is the first to clear his throat. “I heard you’re going to therapy again.”

His words make your head cower down in shame, eyes locked at the ends of the hospital bed as you feel the pit of guilt bury itself in your stomach. You know he’s not judging you𑁋he never has and never will𑁋but you can’t shake the feeling away. 

“Did Joshua tell you that?” 

“Does it bother you that I ask about you sometimes?”

Both of your voices tangle together, but you hear his question clearly. You don’t feel irritated or annoyed because after all, you were the one who decided to end the relationship as you let your insecurities and fears project onto your burdening feelings. At the time you thought Seungcheol deserved better, and you let those thoughts ultimately make your decision without even considering his own feelings. And ever since then, you’ve wanted nothing more than to express the depth of your regret. 

“Because I still care about you, you know?” You hear him continue. “and I want to know how you’re doing. But if you want me to stop, I can𑁋”

“Cheol,” You call his name sternly, surprising both him and yourself as he closes his mouth right away from his rambling. Overturning the hesitation, you finally confess, “I-I ask about you sometimes too.”

Seungcheol's feels his mouth go dry, caught off-guard by your words. A mixture of surprise, relief, and a flicker of hope dances across his features. But he keeps himself from getting his hopes up.

“And therapy... has been well,” He swears he sees that glimpse of hope in your eyes as well. “It’s been hard, but I think I’ve been making a lot of progress.”

“That’s good,” Seungcheol comments, scooting himself closer to the bed. “I’m proud of you, you know that, right?”

You know he’s proud of you. Whenever you made those kinds of efforts, even the smallest kinds such as getting out of bed, taking a shower, or eating a single bite of a home-cooked meal, you remember Seungcheol giving you those words of praise, the kisses he would shower you with, the way being his arms felt safer than your own head, and the genuine reminder that he was there for you and ready to drop everything just to make sure you were okay. 

But your thoughts always considered otherwise. 

Seungcheol reaches out tentatively upon noticing your stillness, his hand inching closer to your free one. His fingers brush against your skin, lightly over one of your bruises, and a shiver runs down your spine. You look at his hand, then meet his eyes, and he silently asks for permission.

Nodding ever so slightly, his hand laces with yours, and it feels as if a missing puzzle piece has finally found its place. The warmth spreads from his touch, easing the ache in your heart and the shakiness of your breathing. You both sit there in pure silence, hand-in-hand, the weight of the past slowly dissipating and leaving only the present moment.

“Seungcheol.”

Your voice sends him back to reality, his mind not processing the presence of your hand in his just yet. “Yes? Are you okay? Do you need something?”

You give him a shake of your head, chuckling quietly at his expression.

“No, I’m okay, but I was wondering...” You bite your lip reluctantly, eyes switching back between your clasped hands and his focused look. “Do you... want to stay the night?”

Seungcheol's eyes widen at your unexpected question. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The desire to be with you is overwhelming, but he doesn't want to overstep any boundaries. Anything but that.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable𑁋”

“It’s okay,” You reassure him with a gentle squeeze to his hand. “I want you here with me. I’ve... I’ve really missed you.” And I want to tell you how sorry I am for letting you go.

A smile crosses his face, eyes lighting as he brings your hand carefully up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to a bruised spot as if to convey his appreciation. You can’t help but smile in return, feeling a surge of warmth spreading through your chest. The simple gesture holds so much meaning, like a tender reassurance of your unbroken connection that you both seek to repair together. 

“Okay,” is all he replies with. Because you have no idea how much I’ve missed you too.

[acaciusbride]

Oblivion { Joel Miller x Reader }

Summary: Joel bends you over and fucks you until you pass out. You’re into it. There’s no plot, it’s just smut.

CWs: established consent / choking / praise / dirty talk / use of “good girl” / no daddy kink this time / unsafe sex / rough sex / dom!Joel / aftercare

MDNI / 18+ ONLY

Tagging @dreamingofdaddydin & @joelsgirl 💜

Joel has you on all fours. It’s one of his favourite positions, because it really gives him a good sense of how much bigger than you he is.

You’re not sure what the fuck he was eating in the QZ, but he’s far more broad and strong than most men in Jackson. Hell of a lot better looking, too. And not that you know really, but you get the sense that he knows his way around a woman far better than most men, too.

Not that you can really think of anything right now beyond what he’s doing to you.

He’s so much bigger than you, easily caging your body with his whenever he pleases, which is often. He goes between draping himself over you and sitting up straight, depending on how he wants to look at you.

Presently it’s the latter; he has both hands on your waist, pulling your much smaller body back against his hips, slamming his cock into you without much care as to how rough he’s being.

He knows you can take it. Knows that if you couldn’t, you’d tell him. He’d stop if you asked, wouldn’t be remotely pissy about it or guilt trip you for it, no questions asked. But you’ve never once asked him to stop.

Begged for more? Absolutely. Demanded he be rougher? Also a yes. You’re open to pretty much everything and anything, as long as it’s with him.

Your hands - so fucking tiny, they look so small and delicate whenever they’re wrapped around him - are fisted into the rumpled bed sheets, like holding on will keep you from losing your mind entirely. It won’t. Not with the sounds he’s already dragging out of you, high pitched moans and mewls that sound sweeter than anything he ever heard in a porno or real life.

You’ve got your ass in the air, back arched down in just the right position for him to hit that sensitive spot inside you with each thrust, heavy balls slapping against your clit as he fucks you.

And still, somehow, it registers that he’s holding back on you. That’s not what you want. You want him to fuck you senseless, literally. Fuck you so dumb that you can’t speak, can’t think, left a drooling mess in his bed with his cum dripping out of you down your thighs.

“God dammit, Joel…” you wriggle yourself back onto him, earning yourself a slap on the ass for your trouble.

“What, sweetheart? Not hard enough for you?” He grunts as he slams into you, hard, forcing your body forward into the mattress with the momentum.

You squeal loudly at the force of it, letting him know that’s exactly what you wanted.

You don’t know where the fuck he got his stamina, but you love it. Know he’ll complain about his back hurting later, but that’s fine. You probably won’t be able to walk later, so it seems even enough.

He doesn’t slow down, one hand leaving your waist to snake up to curl around your throat, hard enough to cut your airflow. Not too tight, not dangerous, but tight enough that with the force of how hard he’s fucking you, the room starts to spin.

Joel knows you, though. Knows the telltale signs of your body about to hit its peak, grinding his enormous length into you hard enough to tip you over the edge. He releases your throat just as you start to cum, holding you up with one hand as you shake beneath him.

“Fuck, baby, you get so tight when you cum for me…”

You know; it feels so fucking good it hurts, feeling your comparatively tiny cunt fluttering around him as he fucks you through … fuck. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum for him tonight. Four? Five?

You’re getting to your breaking point, but you still won’t ask him to stop, won’t tap out. You don’t care what happens to you, how overstimulated you get. All that matters is him, the heat of his body against yours, the feeling of being so full of him, the rough praise of his deep voice as he fucks you.

“Such a good girl for me. Getting tired, darlin’? Want me to stop?” Joel knows the answer, taunts you anyway. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

You almost hiss it over your shoulder at him, feel his cock throb inside you at the words.

It’s like you’ve awakened a whole new side to him; his hands are vicelike on your waist as he pounds into you, no longer trying to be remotely gentle after you’ve just climaxed.

Harder and faster, one hand twisting into your hair and pulling hard as he fucks into you. The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together, your mewls and whimpers, his increasingly louder groans and curses.

“Fuck, baby, could just stay buried in this tiny perfect pussy forever, just made for me, weren’t you?”

You can’t answer him, just scream for him instead, the only intelligible word that comes out is his name. You’re exhausted, your climax building again, closer and more uncontrollable this time.

He knows it, holds you as steady as he can as he feels you start to shake, your tiny body finally reaching breaking point as you come undone around him.

Your eyes roll back in your head, vision fading with the intensity of your climax, every nerve in your body on fire as you shake in his arms.

It’s not the first time he’s literally fucked you unconscious. The first time, he stopped, and when you woke up? You demanded to know why.

It’s a spoken rule now that he doesn’t stop. There’s something unbelievably fucking hot about waking up to him inside you.

Still, he slows, caresses your back, strokes your hair, being almost gentle with you now as you slowly start to come back to yourself.

“There you are… there’s my good girl… you doing okay, sweetheart?”

You blink a few times, open your eyes. He’s still inside you, thick and full and practically splitting you open. Perfect.

“Mm… Joel?”

“Yeah, baby?” He rocks his hips lazily.

“Don’t fucking stop.”

You can’t see the grin on his face as he keeps moving, chasing his own release now. He won’t admit it, because it feels a bit fucked up, but he likes that you trust him so much, likes how helpless you are when he fucks you into oblivion.

“Not gonna stop, darlin’. Gonna make myself cum now, pretty little pussy gonna make me cum…”

He’s been holding his own release back for god knows how long, edging himself just to get you to this point, but fuck if it isn’t worth it.

He’s comparatively gentle now as he chases his own release, still rough but less controlled, deep sloppy strokes that have him groaning as he bottoms out each time.

“Fuck, baby, so good for me…”

He punctuates the sentence with a long moan, the sort of sound you want to commit to memory because it’s so fucking sexy, but then he’s throbbing and pulsing inside you, filling your aching overstimulated cunt with hot, thick ropes of his seed, grinding deep before he pulls out, watches it drip out of you onto the sheets.

Finally, finally, you collapse onto the bed, eyes half closed, panting and whimpering. The bed creaks as he gets up; vaguely you’re aware of him coming back, a warm cloth between your thighs, cleaning you up.

Once or twice, you’ve both been too exhausted to move, but Joel likes to take care of you after. The mattress dips again and then he’s there behind you, pulling your exhausted body against the solid wall of muscle that is his chest, the slight softness of his stomach.

“Did so well for me, sweet girl. So proud of you.” He presses a kiss to your temple, strokes your hair.

“Sleep now. My perfect girl…”

You’re more than happy to let him rock you into oblivion, a small part of you hoping you’ll wake up to him inside you again.

[metranart]

He sighed, and kissed the crown of your hair. “You really need to stop overreacting each time I touch you, baby bird.” You tried to pry his hands away, but he was just so much stronger than you. “Then stop fucking touching me without my permission, Keigo!”

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader.

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 7)

- Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut. -

You could hear the water running, splash! splash! repeatedly, your body felt much better than when you had fallen asleep, you felt rested, relaxed, all your muscles had loosened... and that clear drumming against your back, very calm and rhythmic, it felt delicious, hypnotic. You didn't want to wake up, and suddenly you relax even more, God! Your whole body trembled violently with pleasure that invaded every pore, it was delirious, and you loved it. A soft moan came out of your half-open lips, like music to the ears of your companion.

“That´s it, baby bird, this is how things should be always.” A different kind of chills flooded your arms at the sound of Keigo’s voice so close to the shell of your ear. “My little girl fits so nicely inside her mate´s arms.” His contented sigh brushed the skin on your bare shoulder, and it was only when his warm, wet lips landed on the exposed skin that you forced your eyes to open.

“—W-what?!....” you breathed awake, the steam from the hot tub flooding your nostrils and filling your lungs with aromas of vanilla and lavender. “Where-where...... why am I wet?” water raised barely covering your naked breasts, your heart almost beat out of your goddamn chest when a strong set of arms squeezed you tight against another equally solid chest.

“Don´t stress yourself, baby bird, I barely managed to make you cu-” Keigo cut himself midsentence, purposely halting his speech at once, knowing that the truth will only anger you. He was trying to be a good boy, even now, with you trashing and forcing him to grip you hard to ground you firmly against him, he was still trying. 

“Stop-” he said calmly, pinning your flapping arms down with one thick forearm, “cut it out, I'm not going to hurt you,” his tone sounded considerably calmer as if trying to convey that feeling to you, even so, you shook your head and peeked up from around his thick neck. “What’s going on? Why are we soaking together?!” You stressed out.

“Not soaking, I'm helping you bathe,” Keigo said as serious as he could. “You desperately needed to relax or it´ll hurt—” suddenly halted his speech again and this time you could glimpse worry shine on his orbs, “you are a stubborn one, but I finally managed to-…... play the right notes.” He intoned, lowly. “Next one will go smoother—”

“—Next what?!”

You stayed there, in stunned silence waiting for him to fill the gaps. If you were understanding correctly, he had undressed you one more time without your permission, and then got into the bathtub with you to help you wash while you were unconscious and somehow hoped you wouldn't go into hysterics.

“KEIGO! Answer me.” You blasted, but the only thing the winged man could concentrate on was the way his name rolled off your tongue, SO fucking devastating, so addictive. Maybe he´ll stay quiet more often to force you to call for him again. 

“Hawks! Dammit!”

Well, his silence didn’t sew fruits. He sighed, and kissing the crown of your hair, said, burdensomely. “You really need to stop overreacting each time I touch you, baby bird.” You tried to pry his hands away, but he was just so much stronger than you. 

“Then stop fucking touching me without my permission, asshole!”

Keigo silently embraced you, stubbornly holding stoic and steady for you, tilting his head so you could calm your breathing into the crook of his neck.  It was warm and soft and damp with soapy water. You breathe him in, out of your control and clutch him tight with your palm and feeling your heartbeat gradually start to slow down, you manage to ask again more calmly.

“What will go smoother next time, Haw-...Keigo?” You force yourself to say his name, just to feel his heartbeat race against your back.

“Cum—” he said shyly through half-lidded eyes, “cumming has calming properties, especially for you-” he said quietly after a moment. “It’ll help more than the bath itself. I promise.”

He waited like a statue for your reply, frozen in anticipation and fright, but it never came. Slowly peeking down, found you staring intently at him, unmoving.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he eventually gasped when you still didn’t say anything. “You were not supposed to notice, you were only supposed to wake up happier and more relaxed...” he continued, “actually…. well, you can tell-...feel that your body is healed,” Hawks released your arms from his grasp to demurely run his hands along your sides, “I was able to deduce your Quirk, baby bird, and I think I found a way to use it that you didn’t know about—" 

The emotion in his voice was palpable, and it was only when you felt his large hand slide between your folds that you came out of shock.

“W-Wait! What do you think you are doing-…?” 

Your hand held his trying to stop him but despite your efforts his fingers continued to caress you, expertly massaging your clit.  His thumb seemed to have a mind of its own, circling over your bundle of nerves at just the right speed, precise pressure, exact movements.  

“No—…Please-eee!”  you wailed, and in no time that broken wail turned into sultry moans.  

The bastard was playing the right notes by heart, you were so close, your body began to contort, hands scratching at his neck while searching for support. His lips glued to your ear, praising you, devotedly.  

“Go on, let it happen, baby bird, let me make you cum on my fingers —… GOD! You look so sexy like this…. writhing around in the water on top of my body while you let me masturbate you…. I ask for nothing more in this life, just that you allow me to be this close forever~” kisses bathed your ear and the side of your head, until the intense orgasm he was slowly building exploded and with it your sanity.

A loud moan erupted from your throat like explosive lava from a volcano, and Hawks kept going, helping you ride the waves of pleasure, his breath ragged as he watched your hip lazily follow the movement of his fingers.  Your body already recognized it as its owner, why not you?  He hated that, but he loved how easy he could play you.  

Finally, your body stopped moving, and sprawled on top of his front. Your breathing slowly became harmonious again, sleepy eyes, hot water, Hawks hugging you against him enviously, his arms circling your waist and your head resting on his shoulder.  

“I told you, I already know how to turn on your quirk…” you did an effort to glance up at him, question shinning in your orbs and he hurried to explain, “—the orgasm is an emergency button for you, it tells your body to release the energy and heal you-even if you are knocked out or weak, you’re as good as new, my sweet girl,” his words caressed your brain, “you are more than ready to return the favor to your lovely and devoted mate, who took so much trouble to find out the right cords—don’t you agree?”

“Return-return the… favor?” you mumbled, still disoriented. 

“Yep.” He clicked his tongue, and you felt his length split your thighs apart, smearing against your swollen folds. “If you are going to have my chicks, we need to keep this womb properly fed.” Keigo explained happily, his index finger tracing your bellybutton under the water, the tip of his cock bumping your entrance insistently. “Just relax for me, I’ll do the rest—”

You knew you couldn’t stop him, so you thought fast, and even though you didn’t want to… If this would help you avoid being raped again, it was worth a try.  

Closing your thighs, you caught his erection in between the hot, wet skin, and started a clumsy swing with your hips, massaging his hard cock between the supple flesh, your fingers caressing the tip each time it peeked out. You knew your moves were awkward to say the least, but your effort seemed to be greatly appreciated by the Pro hero who moaned hoarsely.

“My, my, you’re so naughty~…I ADORE you so much! Yes! You are my beginning and my end, the moon to my stars.... I am so happy to have found you, my baby bird- I will protect you from everything, from everyone... for as long as I am breathing........” his embrace was so possessive that your body seemed buried in his, you could feel every tense and swollen muscle, the thickness of his strong thighs, the power of his powerful arms... he seemed to be made of polished steel and coated in cotton candy and neediness.

“I want to cum inside—…. yeah? My mate doesn’t mind, does she?” He asked, bluntly breaching your pussy just a tad while waiting for an encouragement that will never come. You needed to distract him more, and before he could adjust the position of his hips, you kissed him. 

The very act captivated him. You had not kissed him like this before, even your first kiss was merely a tangle of tongues -nothing too passionate- but this… this was what internally craved. He always stole your lips, but you had never done it so intentionally and that mesmerized him, making him a slave to your desires. 

His lips danced to a soft and tender rhythm, Keigo letting you guide, your thighs masturbating him while your lips did the rest. His heart was pounding so hard it was easy to mistake it for the sound emanating from the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

This time you did hear it, and your heart almost missed a beat when next you heard your mother's sweet voice on the other side.

“Sweetie is that you?” she asked, carefully. 

Your mouth left Keigo’s who chased your lips stubbornly, and hearing your mother calling again halted his attack to snort under his breath, followed by a chuckle, as he playfully repeated.  “Sweetie, how cute~” 

Your palm slapped over his mouth to shut him up, and your gazes collided, his playful, yours irritated, this day couldn’t get any worse.  “Yes-Yes, mom, it’s me-e”

“Oh! Good, I’m so glad you are here—but why are you showering?” you could easily distinguish the wariness in your mother’s voice. 

“Eh-h.... UA’s dorm bathroom is out of order-…” you felt Keigo moving under you, the interruption had stopped all your ministrations, and his urgency was growing, “-so I came here-e... so I could take a bath and…” big hands cupped your breast, forcing you to swallow a loud moan, “and… besides-s, I already wanted to visit you~” you managed to stop one of his hands while your other was stuck on top of his mouth, you could feel his lips curling under it. “I took this chance. I hope it’s not a bother.”  You barely managed to finish the sentence, your hips going back to work in pump Keigo’s fat erection to keep him steady, and in control. That deaf grumble coming out of his chest told you it was working. 

"Of course not, Sweetie, we love that you're here," God!  Your mom sounded so happy and innocent that you really felt bad about the wicked acts you were participating in. 

"I'm going to start making dinner, tell me what would you like me to make? Yakisoba? Curry rice? Or maybe, Miso Chicken?” 

Keigo bite at your fingers lightly and surprise made you withdraw your hand, and without hesitation, his lips pressed against your ear.  “I want Miso chicken, it’s my favorite~” Keigo whispered, encouraged and your eyebrows knitted together in concern, and for some unknown reason for you, felt the need to air a sudden doubt, “—do you eat chicken?” 

The winged hero smiled brightly-even his eyes did, and you felt your heart miss a beat, your daze quickly cut by his answer. 

“It’s my favoriteeeeee~” he sing-sang, and your hand struggled to shut him up. Keigo was faster and was no doubt, enjoying every second of it.  “Come on, tell my mother-in-law to prepare that, or if you want, I’ll tell her—” your hand finally managed to muffle him, even so, he kept chuckling under it.

“Miso Chicken! I love when you make it.” You hurried to say, and your mom cutely giggle from the other side, “Then Miso it is-….do you fancy some special dessert?” Oh god!  You really loved how doting your mom was but right now, it was the last thing you needed. “Maybe you want Daifuki, cake, dango, yokan, cookies—" 

“A-Anything is fine, t-thank you.”  

The words came out tight thanks to Keigo licking the fingers covering his mouth, and in a swift motion hauled your hand up, letting your hand tangle among his wet mane to have sinful access to lasciviously devour your neck, taking his time to do things at his pace. Managing that his erection throbbed against your folds producing a deliriously pleasant rubbing, while his hands massaged the parts of your body he could reach, from your perked nipples to the side of your legs, taking him as far as to pull your calves and squeeze them between his fingers. His mouth focused on your neck, and his hips making a rhythmical swing that was taking both, hand in hand, towards a devastating orgasm. You felt already so sensitive, it was taking a toll on you to stay coherent.

“—Sweetie I was wondering…” 

“Mom!” you squeak louder than intended, “I’ll be out in a—”

But you couldn’t finish the sentence since you felt Keigo´s teeth dig into the muscle that connects your neck with your shoulder, followed by a low and menacing growl.

“Don’t talk back to your mother, baby bird…” He scolded lowly, all playfulness forgotten, “…If you insist on misbehaving, I will have to punish you.” The firmness with which he glared at you spoke of how serious he was being, and gulping hard, you sweetened your next reply. 

“Mommy, I’m almost done, as soon as I get out, I’ll go help you with dinner.”  

Keigo nodded, approvingly. A big enough smile twisting his lips and making him look immensely proud. He kissed the place where his teeth mark was shaping in your delicate skin and rewarded you further by holding gentler. “That’s my sweet and obedient mate.” He praised only for your ears, very pleased, pumping his thickness harder, this time it was you who had to bite down a groan. 

“Ok, sweetie, there’s no need, you take as long as you need, enjoy your bathe.” 

You no longer responded to this as your lip was trapped between your teeth, and you reduced yourself to listening to your mother walking downstairs. Once you heard that there was no one around, you let out the thick and glorious moan. Keigo chuckled, you were responding him very well, he was already close, just like you. 

“Cross your legs, baby bird- you´ll see how good it feels... go on, love- do it.” Keigo requested and you obeyed, the friction became undeniably more precise, his cock caressing your clit with each thrust, your eyes rolled back, and you felt a sharper brush of pleasure flood your body. Trembling on top of Keigo’s thighs he continued to ride you.

You felt something warm fall on your chest, and the rest splash into the water. Keigo moaned hoarsely against your hair, his breathing ragged and his heart racing as he came undone. Once both finished, your bodies relaxed, engrossed in each other, as you enjoyed the hot water and muscle relaxation.  

“Fuck, baby bird, your mom’s interruption turned me on more than it should have, I came a lot.”  Keigo said this while his fingers smeared the semen that had fallen on your chest, like a cream over your wet tits.  “I really like the way you look right now, give me a moment and I think I can go balls deep inside you, you know.... finish you off, properly.”

Keigo laughed a little, too pleased with how everything was developing. You on the other hand were on high alert, yet again.

He had just come, perhaps that wasn’t enough to calm him down, you didn’t want to have him inside you, not again, not ever.  Dammit!  If only there was a way to turn off his rut ​​instinct.  

BRING. ME. BACK.  

Your eyes widened at the blurry memory, Hawks had been with you before all this, Hawks had kissed you in a certain way and said these exact words.

Ignoring Keigo’s intrepid hands manipulating your body, the strong hero flipped you over until you were straddling his erect member, geez!  How could he be erect again?!  

“Calm down, I’ll take it from here-...”  His thick cock bumped against your swollen folds, bullying the entrance, your eyes squinted doing your best to remember the way Hawks teach you to bring him back.

“Here we go, smooth and easy, baby bird, don’t hold back—your mommy won’t hear us, I promise.”  The tip was already inside, but your effort paid off and you soon pulled Keigo’s face towards you. 

The Pro Hero let you, hanging his head stifling his short, outburst of arousal. And soon found that was being pulled down, hauled into the crook of your neck until his face was in front of yours and without saying a single word. 

You kissed him. Peppered the tip of his nose, next his left cheek, to follow with the right and finally the forehead. Sweet and chaste kisses that plunged him into a buried memory of his past, digging up Hawks from his hormonal brain.

You pulled away from his crotch, and not knowing if had worked, used your hand to try and finish him off before he could react sexually aggressive once more.

You pumped his shaft shyly through half-lidded eyes and growing bolder, worked him harder. You don’t know why, but it felt different this time… this time you had control over HIM, and it felt delicious, erotic, forbidden…to hold all power, all control of the Pro Hero number two inside your delicate grip.

You watched his mouth fall open, golden brows furrowing, heart hammering at a worrying pace, saw all the muscles on his body tense against you before the Hero number two spilled himself among your fevered fingers with a sharp gasp, chest heavily heaving. He shuddered with aftershocks, eyes closed, forehead glistening with beads of sweat and soapy water. 

Keigo must have been near the edge, super sensitive already, because it didn’t take you long to make him come. The semen floated through the water among the bubbles and suddenly you heard the voice you were looking forward to.

“Fuck, I´m SO sorry, kid.”

“Hawks...?” you murmured, not knowing who would answer… the Hero or the horny animal.

“It´s ME... and I'm not going away again, you are safe.” Hawks said, running his knuckles soothingly down the line of your jaw. “—I did all this?” 

His gaze followed the semen that floated in the water, golden orbs falling on your fingers smeared with his pearly essence, and without waiting for an answer, he submerged your hand in the water, cleaning each digit profusely among his strong fingers. 

“The commission is going to be pissed.” He said to himself, attention fixed on cleaning the remains of his semen from you. 

Feeling his back against the porcelain of the tub, Hawks realized something. "Where are my feathers?" he asked, a hint of alarm in his tone and you just shook your head, unable to answer.

"Fuck..." he muttered, a crooked embarrassed grin twisting his lips before finish. "I think we might have a problem."

COMING SOON PART 8....

⭕️ In this PATREON LINK you will find NSFW art of this story and more spicy MHA NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction (also JJK, Demon slayer, and Tokyo Revengers) .... Plus more fascinating rewards, check it out and if you got some extra bucks around, join our community. My eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e

[gamergirl-niffler]

Taking Care of Haganezuka's Injuries - headcanons

Requested by: @zero-sugar-null

Being a swordsmith's wife is a little difficult, but being Haganezuka's s/o is a whole different story.

He not only gets angry easily but also gets hurt just as easily and of course you are the one to take care of him.

‌Any kind of bruises or cuts annoy him even more than anything else. 

Not because they hurt.... Because they interrupt his work!

"God dammit!" Loud, angry voice fill the forge as a not yet finished sword is thrown across the room. "It's not perfect. I will have to start from the beginning," Haganezuka mutters and suddenly stops at the uncomfortable feeling in his palms. After taking one look at his hands, he can tell what was wrong. He didn't even notice the cuts at first, but they indeed were there. 

So it was time to see you.

‌He is snappy when someone else is offering help.

True. Most smiths hate his guts but still he is one of them, so offering help is something normal, but Hotaru truly hates it!

"Hanganezuka? Maybe you need help?" Someone asks.

"NO! Leave me alone!” He growls in return.

Who the hell they think they are to suddenly offer him help?! Are they looking down on him? That's some kind of joke.

He doesn't need it... Not from them at least. After all he has you.

Any other attempt of helping him ends with an argument. In the end, other smiths stop even trying. 

You are the first and only person he comes to.

At this point, you are pretty used to your husband returning home with his hands hurt in one way or another. Yet it still somehow gets you off guard when in the middle of the day the door suddenly bursts open, and you see a big man in a weird mask while you simply try to enjoy your tea and a day off!

Him showing up isn’t unusual, but after years with him, you know what it means. You put away your nice, hot tea and get up to get the stuff.

‌He doesn't wince or whine. 

Hotaru is just watching you, maybe frowning once in a while, but you don’t really know because of the mask. He doesn't like how it feels when you take care of his injuries, the burning sensation isn’t his favorite, but your touch is great compensation for the moments of pain. 

It soothes the discomfort and immediately makes him feel much better.

Hotaru ALWAYS thanks you.

Each and every time you do this for him, no matter how many times and for how many years. It's a really simple, polite gesture, but it's important for him. 

He is fully aware he isn't the best pick for a husband, yet you picked him for some reason, so it would be only fair to show you how grateful he is.

"Thank you," he says after raising his mask to place a kiss on your forehead and then cheek. 

Hotaru often thanks God for the mask, because your sweet reaction makes even this angry man blush. 

‌Sometimes you scold him.

You understand his craft is important to him, but some days he takes it too far. Getting his hands all cut and bloody, you can't pat him on the head for that!

"How can you do this to yourself? Love, I admire your work and dedication, but you can't keep it up."

He scoffs at your words. "Someone has to make sure you slayers won't fight with bare hands."

"I know that and thank you for this but working so hard is stupid."

“HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT?!” Hotaru quickly gets defensive.

Scolding sometimes turns into heated arguments between the two of you... Ups...

LET'S REVERSE STUFF A LITTLE

You are a demon slayer, so you make sure the village as well as smiths in it are safe. What means: going against demons, what means: sometimes you get hurt.

‌ Information of you getting hurt is one of few things that pull him away from work.

Yes, he is always deep in his work, but the simple mention of you getting hurt makes him drop everything. He needs to know how bad it is? Are you alive? 

So he drops whatever he is doing (even if it means starting from the beginning again) and goes to see you.

‌If it's possible, he helps you himself. 

Haganezuka isn't a master of taking care of others. It's hard for him, but he watched you work so many times, so he follows exactly those patterns. 

He cleans your wounds and wraps them carefully, just like you do with him. 

Also get ready for a kiss on every wound you have, after all kisses make it all better, right?

‌If it's not possible, he entrusts you to a person who knows what to do.

But this process is full of yelling and threats. 

"You better take good care of her! Or I will deal with you myself! She is my wife, remember that!” 

Sometimes even other smiths must hold him in place for the safety of others.

‌He scolds you as well.

That's another thing you should get ready for. Hotaru is your worried husband, so he has a right to do so when his wife isn’t careful enough.

Right after sweet kisses, he will scold you for getting hurt.

"How could you be so stupid!,” He mutters, annoyed. "You should be more careful. You're a demon slayer, not some child with too sharp toy! Being careful should be your priority!"

"B-But..." You try to argue, but you are quickly cut off by him.

"NO BUTS, Y/N,” He snaps at you. "You need to remember about your own safety. Keep other slayers and villagers safe but remember about your own safety too!"

You just sit there and listen, nodding from time to time. It's obvious your husband is worried, and you won’t argue with that. It was understandable, you do the same when it comes to him.

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

In the end, you care about him deeply, and he cares about you even deeper. Each of you try to keep the other safe and provide help and/or comfort whenever it's needed. 

It's just a simple proof of how much you love each other, and neither of you is going to complain. 

Both of you love it so much, actually.

[seraphinitegames]

I'm in love with the immersion, world-building, and characters of your writing. I can't help but gush about how talented you are with your you are as it's obvious how much love you put in your work.

The routes that I've been going through with my mc and his love interest between Adam and Mason was intriguing, funny and sometimes left me flustered and secretly yearing for more as although the difference between the two is like night and day, there is also a sense of familiarity the two of them share as well such as when it comes to the people they cherish and how they can react when they're threatened especially when it comes to the mc when picked as a love interest.

My favourite moments in the series would be from your most recent book, book three. I was pensive and aching to reach out towards Adam, as I wanted him to realize that it's okay to feel vulnerable every now and then, and that it doesn't make him weak as I desperately tried to reach out to him, and how when I was about to confess that I had fallen for Mason until Felix came out of nowhere, cockblocking me, which led me to furiously mutter under my breath and mind "GOD F@#*ING DAMMIT, FELIX!!"

My heart also ached for how much Sin was in pain who didn't want to hurt anyone but felt like he had to, resigned and trapped with no way out. I didn't hesitate to find any way to help him in anyway I could to free him. That's why near the end of the book I let him leave to live his life the way he wanted to. I couldn't stop imaging about giving him something to not just remind him of our budding friendship, but to also remind him to stay true to himself, and remind him that although he did do some terrible things, they don't define who he is, and that he has the right to been and feel happy as well when the guilt of his actions starts to consume him, whilst I'll also run and shout towards him when he flies of and leaves as I wave with a smile, "Goodbye! Stay safe!" I wonder how he'll react towards the mc doing this.

I can't wait for book four, as this time the stakes are dire, and the mc can even fall for the villian! I can't wait!!

Sorry for my ramblings, but I truly love the series that you've created and I cannot wait for what you have in store for us all. I hope you have a wonderful day. 😊😊

Aah, what an incredible message! I honestly cannot even begin to tell you how much it means to me to read this! <3

It's interesting you saying about the similarities of A and M—It's kind of why it's always fun writing them when they end up paired off for a mission or something.

M is very honest with A (as can be seen with that rather cutting statement by a BFF M to a romanced A at the end of Book Three! But A kind of…gets M in some ways more than the others un Unit Bravo, and it's the same for M. They both know how in pain they are—emotionally or physically—and there's a very deep understanding and bond between them because of that.

I could go on about the unique bonds between each member of UB forever, so I'll stop not before it turns into an essay, hehe! :D

But yeah, I think Sin would love to hear that from the MC. No one has ever looked out for him or cared to before, so having someone they barely know do that for him would make a very big impact—and it does depending on your ending with him!

Thank you so so much for your wonderfully motivating message! <3

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

look Hal, as much as I fucking DESPISE soap’s death.. i am in need of a fic where price delivers his wife his tags. pls, i need to be hurt again by you 🥲🥲🥲 (ik reqs are closed honestly im just hoping to put an idea in your head fjfhsjfh sorry)

A short drabble to make your pain worse, dear anon:

You stare blankly at the finely dressed man on the doorstep, a black leather box in his hands.

It isn’t a stare that can be defined on any level of emotion—nothing shown on a face in a time such as this can be. Some instances transcend any known sense and logic; all perceived ability to understand leaks out of a brain like water in a blown dam. 

There wasn’t an explanation for this. 

John looked on, and he started to speak as if you’d never known each other. As if your Johnny hadn't had him and the rest over for your engagement party—as if he hadn’t watched you pour him tea and smile softly in thanks as Johnny’s arm snaked around your shoulders. 

“On behalf of the 23rd Regiment of the Special Air Service,” you don’t even blink. “I, Captain John Price of the 22nd, offer my—”

“Stop.” Your voice is shaky, and your hands are clammy on the door knob. The man can’t look at you. He clears his throat, blue eyes blinking at you; so similar to Johnny’s and yet never the same at all. 

“...My deepest condolences—”

“John!” Your voice moves in a sharp yell, taking a single step forward. “Stop it!”

A heavy silence falls like a hammer. 

Your lips open and close, stuttering. Where were the words? What could you say? The tightness of your chest crashes down on you; a cinder block of ruthless realization. 

Your husband was never coming home. 

Hand snapping up to your mouth, you stifle a loud sob that rips through your lungs, shoulders hunching in. 

“Where is he?” You gasp, tears flying down your face. “John, dammit, where is he?!”

For once in your life, of all the times you’d spoken to him, the Captain had no answer. Blue eyes stay stuck on you, box outstretched on hands that you see quiver for a moment—a clench of his bearded jaw and a movement of his head to the side. 

Like some cruel joke, you laugh through the bouts of sobs, unbelieving.

“John,” you plead, barely able to see or get the words out. “Please tell me where he is. He has to come back home to me. John,” you move forward, grasping his shoulder, digging your nails in as if to wrench soil out of a burial plot. It’s frantic how you speak—all gasps and desperate whines to a God who isn’t listening to you. “I need him. H-he promised me he would come back. I-I…” You struggle to breathe.

“Love,” John grits out, forcing his tongue to move. His eyes are pained, but never, never as much as yours are. It’s said on a low and defeated breath. “I couldn’t save him.”

You collapse as his arm, which snaps to circle you and tries to keep you up as you wail in agony. Tears stain John’s uniform and the neighbors come outside at the ruckus of a woman who just had her heart ripped out with a rusted knife. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, throat tight. “It’s all my fault, I’m sorry.”

But you can’t answer, because the only thing you have left of Johnny are pieces of blood-splattered metal and memories. 

And one day, you’d forget the sound of his voice—the way he touched you; how it felt to be kissed and held and loved so fiercely as if on fire. A blaze of devotion, yourself covered in gasoline; eager to be burned by a man you’d skin yourself for only three more minutes with, if that was all that could be spared. 

You plead for it in John’s arms—scream for it. Three more minutes. Three more seconds. 

If not that, then just three last kisses.

Johnny was dead, and everyone, especially the man trying to keep you from hitting the ground; taking the hits you lay on his arm numbly, knew that you had died with him.

The tags of a man long past glint in the setting sun.

[mrm0rgansw0man]

hi !! can i have a more angsty arthur fic of the reader admiring him from afar and wanting to give him all the love he’s deserving of but feels she doesn’t have the chance to ? :)))) happy ending would be nice maybe arthur reads a note of hers !

god i love writing angst. LETS DO THISSS

hope you enjoy!! Xx @risingtripletaurus

I can let you down, I can make you Hurt.

Bitter, freezing cold. That was all you felt. Just the cold and the ache in your heart. Your whole chest ached, from the cold or from the emotions you were feeling you didn't know.

This whole Blackwater fucked up mess was just what you needed. You had already been struggling, being new to the gang and trying to help out and earn your keep. And, not only that, but Arthur Morgan hated you. You were sure of it, you had no clue what you did to offend him but just until right before this mess he started pulling away from you.

He was always friendlier with all the women of the camp, but you and him had taken a liking to each other. But one day, it just stopped. The hellos. The cups of coffee he'd bring you every morning. The shared cigarettes. The random talks, it was so nice. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't fallen for him. You though he could be falling for you too, but looks like you were wrong. You knew it was too good to be true.

"You're so down." Charles said simply. You looked up at him, not even having noticed he came into the cabin you had been sitting in.

"I can practically feel it in the air around you." He continued. Your eyes flit away from him and back to the floor. You watched a few snowflakes melt into your boots.

"Why do you care?" You asked quietly. "I'm sure you've got much better things to worry about than my problems."

Charles shrugged. "Just wanted you to know I'm here if you want to talk. I'm not doing much lately, cause of this hand. So I've noticed more."

Tears welled in your eyes. You blinked them away before you thought Charles could notice. But he still did.

"I've never seen you like this before. I'm worried about you, (Name)." Charles said. His voice more stern now. "Ask anyone, it feels like and looks like, no offense, that the life has been drained out of you."

"It's jus' the cold..." You mumbled. "I'm fine Charles.."

"You know, I was sitting in this cabin with you for hours. You didn't move once. You didn't even know I was here, did you? And Abigail came in to try and talk to you, but it was like you were in a whole different world."

Uh oh. Fuck. He's got you there. You didn't even know Charles had come in, let alone Abigail.

"Have you ever had to love someone from a distance Charles?" You asked weakly. You finally lifted your head enough to meet his eyes.

"No." Charles said with a sigh. "But I can't imagine it's a great feeling."

"It's not." You said with a sniffle. "Not at all."

"Can I ask who it is?" Charles asked you cautiously.

You let out a choked cry. You took a few deep shaky breaths, trying to keep yourself together. It was getting harder and harder by the second. God dammit Charles why do you have to care?

"Arthur." You whispered, wiping away the few tears that managed to escape your eyes. "It's Arthur."

Charles didn't say anything, he only nodded. So you kept talking.

"He was so kind to me when I first started riding with you. We got on real well too." You said, finally starting to weep. Who cares anyways? "I started falling for him. Quick and hard, and could you blame me?"

"No, I was convinced he was sweet on you." Charles admitted. Though all it did was send more tears floding out of your eyes.

"He'd bring me coffee in the mornings. We'd talk. He always said Hi to me at the very least when we crossed paths." You said softly. "And he made sure I was eatin'- I mean you know how I was when I first got here."

"Always sick and thin as paper." Charles said grimly, having been on of the few people that helped take care of you during that hard time.

"Neither of us sleep very well, he'd come find me or I'd go find him. We had such nice talks on those nights, he opened up to me. Like really, really opened up to me. And I opened up to him too." You continued, your cries becoming harder and your voice rising.

"I don't know what I did!" You cried. "But one day it all just stopped! He wouldn't talk to me, he hasn't even looked me in the eyes Charles! I don't know what's wrong with me! I just want to love him!"

"Oh (Name)..." Charles started, but you cut him off.

"He deserves so much Charles!" You sobbed. "He is such a good man, no matter what he says when he looks in the mirror! I just want to love him, he doesn't even need to love me back! Do you know how pathetic that is? How disgustingly pathetic I am to love him like this!?"

You inhaled and exhaled at a frantic pace, running your hands over your tear soaked face. It was too much. You couldn't breathe. You wrapped your arms around yout face and buried yourself in your knees. Charles rushed to your side, kneeling down next to you. He placed both his hands on your shoulders and just stayed there, giving you something to hang onto. Keeping you grounded.

You finally lifted your head and met Charles's eyes, only to find them already locked on you.

"I just want to love him. T-that is all I w-want." You managed to get out between sobs. "And now I've lost m-my chance! I can't keep going like this Charles! He's- he's been through so much. That poor man has suffered and s-suffered and I just want t-to make him feel like he deserves something!"

"Arthur-"

"Needs me! And I need him to need me because look how badly I need him! If he doesn't love me the-then what am I supposed to do?!"

You broke apart, sobbing harder than you were before. Probably harder than you have ever cried in your life. Charles caught you, and he wrapped his arms around you. He let you sob and scream into his chest until you couldn't breathe.

"I just want a chance I just want a chance! I want to know what I did wrong!" Was all you could say, over and over again. Charles rocked you back and fourth, letting you cry yourself out. It took at least an hour, but eventually your cries had lulled to a stop.

Once your breath had returned to normal, Charles spoke.

"I'm going to go get Miss Roberts and Miss Gaskill. They'll take care of you. I'm going to talk to Arthur, don't you worry about this for another second." Charles said soothingly. It was all you could do to nod a yes at him. He pulled away from you, but right as he was about to reach the door you called out for him.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" You asked horsely. Charles looked back at you and gave you a small smile.

"First of all, I like you. Quite a bit, your a good person (Name)." He said simply. "And secondly, you haven't moved from that spot for over a day and you haven't even noticed. Someone needed to do something."

And with that, he left. You sat in silence until Abigail and Mary-Beth showed up. They tried to talk with you but you didn't have the strength to even reply to them. They accepted this, and helped you to your room and laid you down in your cot.

You laid there for what felt like hours, completely lost in thought.

"Glad to see your feelin' better, Miss." Arthur said, handing you a tin cup filled with scalding hot coffee. You took it gratefully.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan." You said with a smile. "I've got to say I'm liking your company more and more each morning you visit me."

"Oh don't be too flattered, your jus' the only one up as early as me." Arthur said with a smirk, playfully elbowing you in the side. You chucked and hoped Arthur didn't see the blush spreading across your face.

"Well a girl can dream!" You said, that same flirty smirk crossing your face.

"Arthur! I need to talk to you!" Dutch called.

Arthur groaned in annoyance. He turned to leave, but at the last moment he turned back. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

"Meet me at the campfire tonight. We never get t' talk without gettin' bothered." Arthur said. You nodded your head happily as he turned to leave, running of to do whatever the hell Dutch wanted him for.

You felt yourself smiling at the memory, even if it was just a weak one.

That night at the campfire was the first of many, you two met every night you could. And that was when you truly began to fall for Arthur, those nights by the burnt out campfire. The last night it happened, you told him about your life before joining the gang, and why you were so sick when you first arrived.

"No one in my family was right." You said with a deep sigh. "My daddy hung himself in our living room right before my mama had me. And since then she just never had any happy in her head."

"Jesus.." Arthur mumbled. "Was your Mama good t'you, at least?"

"Pfft, no!" You said with a laugh. You took another swig of whiskey from the bottle Arthur stole from Pearson for you. "Beat me halfway to hell every other day. I think she had some disease. Think I might have it too, honest to god."

"D'ya really think that?" Arthur asked, taking a swig of his own whiskey bottle.

"I jus' get so low sometimes.. Not enough happy in my own head." You said sadly. "Not something I can really help, but it happens. Part of the reason I was so sick when I first got here, that and being out in the elements."

"What a woman you are, Miss. (Name)!" Arthur said with a laugh. "Survivin' yer' Mama, survivin' runnin' away into the wild, and survivn' yourself!"

Arthur and you spent a lot of time talking about your past life that night, so much time you had finished that whole bottle of whiskey. Bittersweet tears filled your eyes as you remembered what happened next.

You stood up from the ground, and wobbled your way over Arthur and poked him in the chest.

"Tell me, Mr. Morgan!" You slurred. "What have you survivedddd?"

"Oh sweetheart, we ain't got time for that tonight." He said, shaking his head at your drunken boldness.

"Pleaseeee Arthurr??" You whined, a wrong step sending you tumbling down into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively, and you smiled happily. It was a giddy childlike smile that Arthur would never forget.

Arthur had no idea what possessed him to do so, but he gulped down the last of his whiskey and started talking.

"My mama died when I was real young..." Arthur said, his voice going quiet. "My daddy was a thief, a petty one at that.. Wasn't even a real father. He wasn't good t'me at all. The lawmen got him when I was jus' eleven."

" 'M so sorry Arthur..." You said, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tight. He rested his chin on your head and returned the hug, god it was so nice to be held like this. To be able to feel freely.

Arthur had no clue why he was so drawn to you from the very start, but ever since he first laid his eyes on you he couldn't get enough. He knew he was a goner, but he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't terrify him. Hell, sitting here like this with you terrified him! But even with the fear in the back of his mind, he could feel the whiskey clouding his thoughts and what little remained of the walls he so constantly put up crumbling.

Arthur went on about his family for a bit, and then told you all about getting taken on by Dutch and Hosea. He told you about what a deliquent he was, told you about when they brought John in. And Miss. Tilly. Then he told you all about a girl named Mary Linton, and about the love they used to share. You listened intently to every word, even in your drunken state. You prayed to whatever god above that you remembered this all tomorrow.

"I had a boy once." Arthur said, after a long stretch of silence. "His name was Issac. He passed on, though."

"Oh Arthur." You whispered, finding his hand and holding it tight. "I'm so sorry!"

"Some bastards killed him 'nd his Mama. Eliza." Arthur said, his voice breaking. "Shot 'em. All for a measly ten dollars."

"What is wrong with this world.." You murmred. Arthur just shook his head.

"I wasn't there f'him much. I shoulda been a better father to my little boy..." Arthur mumbled, his words starting to slur. "I was good to them when I was 'round, but that doesn't make up for nothin'. I'm a horrible person, (Name)."

You sat up, moving your legs around Arthur so you were straddling him. You grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

"Did you love his Mama? Did you treat her well?" You asked fiercely.

Arthur nodded his head frantically. The change in you startled him.

"Did you play with your boy? Did you hold him? Did you tell him stories, or sing him to sleep?" You pressed on, even with the tears forming in Arthur's eyes.

"Y-Yes!" Arthur said, stumbling over his words. "He was small, but he still liked to run. He liked being held-"

Arthur stopped, a strangled cry escaping his throat. You took your hands off of Arthur's face and wrapped both of your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms back around you, burying his face in your hair and neck. Arthur thought that he should want to leave, but he realized he'd rather be buried alive then leave your arms right now.

"His favorite was 'Hush Little Baby'" Arthur said softly, you could feel the tears falling from his eyes now. "I was so happy to sing it to him the last time I...."

You sat up- which scared the wits out of Abigail and Mary-Beth-and covered your eyes. Trying to block out the image of what came soon after that.

The comfort you brought Arthur. The way he held your face in his hands. The kiss, so passionate. You both tasted of lust, whiskey, and pain. It was a fiery mix of emotions that sent you both stumbling into his cot and ripping off each other's clothes.

And then he wanted nothing to do with you.

"Honey? What's wrong?!" Abigail said, she wrapped her arm around you and Mary-Beth took your hands off of your face and held them.

Charles had given them a brief explanation of what had happened, but they were anxious for him to get back. They wanted to know what Arthur had to do with you being in an absolute state. They sent each other worried glances.

"When will Charles be back?" You asked with a sniffle. You leaned into Abigail and held Mary-Beth's hands tighter.

"Shouldn't be much longer, I promise honey." Abigail said.

"Want to tell us what's wrong?" Mary-Beth asked softly, she was testing the waters.

You looked between your two friends, and smiled weakly. God, you loved them so much.

"Okay."

»»———-　　———-««

"Arthur? Are you here?" Charles called out before going right into Arthur's room.

Charles found Arthur sitting on the edge of his cot. He was reading a letter.

"What is it, Charles?" Arthur said, still not looking up from the paper in his hands. Arthur didn't even seem like he was listening to Charles.

"Put that down. I need to talk to you." Charles said, his voice becoming more serious.

Arthur re-read the words written on the paper one last time before looking up at Charles.

'Arthur, please tell me whatever I did. I just want to talk to you again. Please, just talk to me whenever you read this. Your true friend, (Name)'

"You know, (Name) isn't doing good. She's been sitting in the corner of her room, curled up. Not moving, not talking. Nothing." Charles said simply.

Arthur's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. Charles continued.

"I sat there with her for hours, and she didn't move a muscle. I watched Abigail come in and try and talk to her, but it was like she was talking to a wall." Charles said. "And that was after Molly had tried to talk to her for hours the night before. She's the one who came and got me."

"Is..is she alright?" Arthur asked, his nerves evident in his voice. He knew this was his fault. He could feel it in his bones. Oh god, he was a fucking idiot,

"No! She's not alright!" Charles snapped. "She barely even looks human! When I finally got through to her all she could do was cry! And she was crying about you!"

"No.." Arthur said softly. "Where is she now? I need to go see her-"

"You can go see her when we're done here." Charles said sternly. "Arthur, did you know she was in love with you?"

Arthur ran a hand over his face. Oh great, now he'd really done it.

'I'm such a piece of shit..' Arthur thought to himself. 'God.. Oh my god..'

"No." Arthur said. "I jus' thought... I don't know what I thought! I jus' didn't think she loved me."

"I just want to love him. He doesn't even need to love me back." Charles said with a sigh. "That's what she said to me, while she was sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe. And then 'I just want a chance! I want to know what I did wrong!'"

"I get yer' point!" Arthur shouted. "Jesus christ..."

"She's broken. Between having to be here, the whole mess in Blackwater and you completely disregarding her, she is broken." Charles said.

"I KNOW GOD DAMMIT I GET IT!" Arthur shouted, standing up from his cot. Charles stood firm, crossing his arms over his chest. He had said his part, now it was Arthur's turn to speak.

"Does.. Does she really love me?" Arthur asked weakly, taking off his hat and running his hands through his hair. Charles nodded. " I thought she was just' sweet on me a little bit, I thought I was jus' sweet on her.."

"Do you feel different now?" Charles asked. When he joined this gang, he never expected this would be the role he took on. Oh well.

Arthur stilled for a moment. He knew how he felt about you. But how could he even say it out loud, knowing how love had turned out for him in the past?

Mary had to leave him. Her father hated him because of his life as an outlaw.

His love for Eliza and his child only got them shot.

How could he condemn you, someone who has suffered and suffered, to a life with him? He wanted nothing more than to make you feel loved, protected, and cared for. He wanted to hold you like he did that night, to keep you close. To kiss away all your pain and never let you feel like you don't deserve it. Because you deserved the world, Arthur just didn't think he could give it to you.

And he was scared. He was so scared, so instead of being a decent fucking human he ran. And now look at what he did to you. Sent you right back to that dark part of your mind where you never wanted to be stuck in again.

"Yes." Arthur said finally. "But, how could I even try anythin' with her? I don't want nothin' happening to her cause of me! She deserves so much more than I can give her!"

"Arthur, I don't think you understand." Charles said with a deep sigh. "She doesn't want more! She isn't expecting anything of you! All she wants is. you."

"Why does this matter to you anyways! Who are you, t'come in here and talk t'me about this!" Arthur spat. "You have no right-"

"Yes I do!" Charles said, his voice rising. "I took care of (Name) when she first joined us, so I'll continue to take care of her now! She can't function! She needs you, Arthur! And I have a feeling you need her too."

Arthur stood there, glaring at Charles. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to scream foul things at him, for getting into his head like that. But he also wanted to thank him. For being there for you while he failed miserably.

"Figure it out. And then you go see her." Charles said coolly. "Don't go see her like this, she's not strong enough."

Charles left, Arthur's cold stare practically ushering them out the door. Arthur stood there for a few more moments, not really knowing what to do with himself. Charles had sent his mind reeling.

He knows what he wants to do. He wants to go to you, hold you, kiss you, tell you how sorry he is. Tell you that he loved you so much but he got scared, and instead of facing it like a man he ran like a boy. He never wanted to hurt you, but look how bad you were hurting now!

You loved him. And he loved you, but Arthur ran away and now would you ever be able to forgive him? He hadn't even told you he loved you! Arthur was sure he had already ruined everything. Not to mention the two of you slept together, which Arthur didn't even know if you knew it happned or not you were both so god damn drunk!

Arthur sat down and sighed. He took out the letter you left for him to find. He read it again, only this time he stopped over a certain line.

"Just talk to me."

It echoed in his mind. Arthur could practically hear your voice, begging him to talk to you. And he knew what he had to do. Arthur folded the letter up and placed it neatly in his pocket, before placing his hat back on his head. He made a beeline for the hut you were staying in with Molly.

»»———-　　———-««

You had just finished telling your sob story to Abigail and Mary-Beth when Charles returned, not even giving them a moment to react.

You didn't even look up at him when he came back, feeling so weak having to relive what happened with Arthur yet again.

"He's coming. I don't know when, he needed to collect himself. But he'll be here to see you, (Name)." Charles said softly. You nodded, reminding yourself to go and thank him properly when you were better.

"Miss Roberts, Miss Gaskill, please stay with her until Arthur gets here." Charles asked them. Of course they agreed. And then Charles left, god he needed a drink.

Abigail and Mary-Beth stay there with you, wrapped up in blankets in your cot. It was a comforting couple of minutes of silence before Arthur practically broke the door down and rushed into your room. Abigial and Mary-Beth said some hurried goodbyes to you before rushing out of the room.

You knew Arthur was there, but you couldn't look at him. You continued to lay down on your cot, wrapped up in blankets and facing the wall.

Arthur looked at you for a few moments, before taking a deep breath and starting to speak.

"(Name)" Arthur said softly. "Can I uh.. May I sit with you?"

You rolled over slowly, and forced yourself to meet Arthur's eyes. They looked just as broken as yours did when you looked in the mirror. You nodded yes weakly, and Arthur sat down on your cot next to you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you closed your eyes. Arthur saw the tears flowing from them.

"I'm so sorry honey." Arthur said with a shaky sigh. "I should never have pushed you away like that."

"You fucked me." You spat, opening your eyes to look at him. "You fucked me! And then you wouldn't even look me in the eyes!"

"You know!?" Arthur gasped, completely shocked. He didn't think you were sober enough to remember what happened that night.

"I OPENED UP TO YOU ARTHUR!" You yelled, finding the strength in your anger to sit up in your bed. "I GOT CLOSE TO YOU- I LET YOU IN! YOU KNOW THINGS ABOUT ME KNOW ONE ELSE DOES!"

Before you even knew what you were doing, you got up and started pounding your fists against Arthur's back. He was caught off guard, so you got a couple solid punches in before he turned around and grabbed you by the wrists.

"You FUCKED ME! AND THEN YOU THREW ME TO THE SIDE LIKE SOME WHORE! YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU! AND ALL FOR WHAT!? ALL FOR WHAT ARTHUR MORGAN!? IS THAT ALL YOU WANTED FROM ME FROM THE START!?" You cried, not knowing when the shouting stopped and your tears began.

You fought to get your wrists out of Arthur's grasp. But he wouldn't let you go. In fact he held on to you tighter, pulling you firm against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tight and without even knowing what he was doing started peppering your head with kisses.

You punched, you sobbed, you screamed, you fought like a bat outta hell trying to get out of his grasp. But Arthur wouldn't let you go. He took every hit, every foul name and every insult.

Eventually, your thrashing stopped. Your sobs turned into small shaky breathes, and instead of punching him your arms were wrapped around his neck and you crawled into his lap. Arthur started rocking you back and fourth, and was whispering comforting things in your ear.

"I didn't know you remembered.." Arthur said softly. "Honey.. I thought I took advantage of you. I didn't think you'd wanna sleep with me if you were sober."

Arthur felt you softly shaking your head, but you didn't speak. So Arthur kept talking.

"I never woulda' acted how I did if I had known you remembered that night." Arthur whispered. "And, I can't lie to ya' honey. I was afraid. I didn't feel worthy of somthin' like what we had going on. I wasn't thinkin' right- actually I don't think I was thinkin' at all."

"Do you love me?" You asked, your voice a broken whisper. "Arthur I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. You know just as well as I do that there is some type of connection between us that we didn't even spark ourselves. Everyone saw it happen before their very eyes."

Arthur looked down at you, and you were looking up at him already. You looked like a scared little girl, and it broke Arthur's heart. How could he have done this to you?

Arthur swallowed thickly. It was now or never. He was afraid, but his fear meant nothing. Nothing mattered when it came to you. Arthur couldn't bare to lose you, especially not like this.

"Yes." Arthur breathed out, a small chuckle leaving him. "God, I love you so much. Please forgive me f'being such a goddamn moron-"

Before Arthur could continue, you grabbed Arthur by his coat collar and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Arthur moved his hands to cup your face, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that fell from your closed eyes.

You kissed until the both of you needed to pull away for air, and then Arthur kissed you again. He never thought he'd be able to feel your soft and loving lips against his own ever again, so he made sure to savor every moment.

Once you had both caught your breath, Arthur sat there. He held your face in his hands. The love in his eyes sent a blush to your cold and tear stained face.

"I love you (Name) (Last-name)." Arthur said, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "S'much. More than you'll ever know. More than I'll ever be able to show ya' sweetheart."

You let out an airy laugh, and for the first time in a long time you felt like you could breathe. Your chest wasn't heavy anymore and it felt like your heart was actually beating.

"But I sure as hell will try. Like you said, there is somethin' between us that's not even we could control." Arthur said softly. The smile on his face sent butterflies to your stomach. " 'M so sorry I made you feel so horrible. I'll do everythin' I can to make this right. To make us right, honey."

"It's okay.." You whispered. "It's not entirely your fault, y'know I'm sick anyway-"

"Which is another reason why I shoulda' been smarter!" Arthur said, his voice soft still but also firm. He pulled you into another hug. "I need to keep the happy inside your head."

"You remember that?" You gasped. You were deeply touched that he had remembered something so small.

"I'd have to be dead to forget any of the talks I've had with you sweetheart." Arthur said, his tone nothing but truthful. You smiled into his chest, his words made you feel like you were floating on a cloud.

You both sat there in a comfortable silence, Arthur gently rubbing your back and rocking you back and fourth. You had your eyes closed, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Arthur noticed a shift in your breathing, and he knew you had fallen asleep.

As quietly and comfortably as he could, Arthur shifted so that you were both laying down again. Arthur wrapped you up in a blanket and let out a content sigh. This felt so right. So perfect. He was still scared, but he couldn't let it keep him from you. It was better to be afraid with you, so you could learn and grow together, instead of pushing himself away and hurting the both of you.

"I'm gonna give you the world, my sweet girl. Jus' you wait and see.." Arthur whispered. He planted a kiss on the top of your head, before drifting off himself.

»»———-　　———-««

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! ive literally spent all my free time on it the past few days lol i got wayyy to invested into this, but are we suprised at this point??? Xx

[heartmii]

TOA 00

✮⋆˙apollo x male!reader

!warnings!: male reader but can be seen as gn, angst, mentions of blood.

✮⋆˙ this was honestly a fic idea i had for a while but since toa isn't really that popular, i figured it wouldn't do too well so instead here's a one-shot! Has been continued !

✮⋆˙ next

✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙

"nonono.. beloved..." the god whispered as he dropped onto his knees beside your bloodied body. his hands trembling when he reached out to touch you.

your eyes were shut when he arrived at your spot. an opening deep in the forest behind his temple. after he'd set the sun and, his sister took her shift, he would then meet you here. here, where he learned of your body, and you learned his. here, where the whispers of intimacy stayed between two souls. here, where, apollo, the all-powerful god, submitted to a mortal and allowed his body to be used for love.

now, in the shadow of his love, was only grief. for as long as you love, grief will one day be in its place. a game of chance. it is said love is a fool's emotion as only a fool would jump into a game knowing the outcome would be a loss.

and perhaps, the god was the biggest fool of them all. loving a mortal promised nothing but loss, yet, when your eyes flickered open and connected with his, a fool was what he became once again.

his heart thumped against his chest. grief soon turned into hope. although your eyes were weak, and your skin was paling. you were alive. breathing. death had not claimed you, there was a chance you could live — a chance he could save you.

"apollo." even on your deathbed, his name would roll off your tongue like honey. he was worshipped, and his name was said many times a day by mortals wishing for his blessings or his wisdom.

but, your call for him was different. when you called for him it wasn't for him as a god, there was no expectation behind your words, no secret goal. if you did expect anything, if there was a goal, it was nothing more than simply just the presence of apollo. you would say his name gently as if you didn't want to scare him off, a reminder he could let his guard down around you.

there's a difference in being valued for what you could give versus being valued for who you were. something apollo could not comprehend until he met you. "what is it, beloved?" he murmured, his attempt to be gentle with you in your fragile state as his cheek leaned into the hand you had outstretched towards him.

your thumb rubbed circles against his skin. "I've been waiting for you." apollo swallowed down a sob. he could hear it in your voice, how hard it was for you to speak full sentences. broken breaths in between each of your words.

quickly, he answered before you could speak again. "i know, love, i know. it was my father's doing. he dispatched hermes to distract me... he knew i was coming to see you..." he let out a shaky breath, "my father punished you to punish me."

zeus's cruelty was nothing new to apollo. his father had been cruel to him his whole life. it was the whole reason he began the revolt against him alongside hera and poseidon in the first place. to be liberated from his father's tyranny.

they'd been found out, of course. hera had already received her punishment. she was to be suspended into the sky wrapped in chains. all of olympus winced as she cried through the night but no one dared to help her out of fear of their "mighty" king.

he wasn't supposed to hurt you. never in a thousand years would apollo have done any of this with the knowledge that you could be caught in the crossfire between him and his father. this wasn't how their game went. zeus had never gone after his lovers before. but dammit, he should've known better. he should've known his father would make sure to break him down. come for his every weakness. now, because of his carelessness, you are a pinch close to death. practically drowning in your own blood and only being able to use the tree stump behind you for support to stay upright.

the longer apollo's eyes stayed on your struggling figure, the foggier they became. "oh, im so, so, sorry." he choked out, the sob he swallowed down earlier forcing its way back up his throat. "this is all my fault."

he felt your thumb swipe at tears he wasn't aware he'd been shedding. how could you still be so gentle with him after he had put you in this situation? so attentive even though you were the one who needed the most attention?

And your eyes, they bore into his with the same amount of warmth as always. "hey.. its okay...we'll be okay." you mustered up a smile and, for a second, apollo believed your words, that everything would be okay. because your superpower was making him - everyone - feel like everything would be okay.

reality hit him with a strangled cough coming from you. he jumped, immediately, blinking away the rest of his tears as his hands helped to support you, your blood coating him. his breath quickened. every second you were falling further into the embrace of death. he was wasting time moping instead of helping.

apollo trembled as he went to press a hand over your wound. "let me heal you."

"no," you denied. it was all you could say with the little bit of strength you had left.

a helpless cry left apollo's lips, his tears flowing once again. your answer did not surprise him. in fact, he expected it. in all of your meetings with apollo, you never failed to mention that you cherished the value of a mortal life. to value which is rare, and what is more rare than a mortal life with the only promise that it would one day end.

apollo was a god. he was never born to die but born to continue living and changing as time allowed. life meant little to him, he'd taken many lives without much thought just as much as he created lives.

that was normal in the life of a god but, you were not a god. only a man. a fact that was being painfully made apparent more so now than ever.

power coursed through apollo's body and, yet, he could not get himself to use it. you were just a man. a man who got a god to submit to your will. you taught him the value in life, the value in you. in turn, he could not disregard your wishes as he could anyone else. he hated it. apollo hated how he loved you so much, he couldn't be selfish. how even when you were slipping through his fingers, he stopped himself from healing you because he knew you would be unhappy if he did, and he would be dammed if he was the reason for your unhappiness.

it was childish to believe that at the doors of death would you change your mind, abandon your humanity, and beg him to save you. "is this really what you want..." he asked. a plead, his last attempt to bargain with you.

you didn't answer his question. he preferred that. it left room to wonder, pretend there was a chance at something else. instead, you reached behind his head, pushing it forward until it gently bumped against your own. you didn't speak at first, opting to admire the face of your lover one last time.

“you're so beautiful..." you breathed out through your staggered breath.

apollo scowled at your words. Not finding the humor in your inappropriate timing for a compliment. “really? that's what you have to say right now." he frowned, his lips jutting into a familiar pout.

“it's true," you hummed, bumping noses with him.

he allowed you to indulge in your affections, scrunching his nose in response. a pointless attempt at gaining some type of normalcy within the situation. yet, the reality loomed over him. he could not shake it off as easily as you. “you’re dying and your last words to me are going to be something I hear from everyone.”

your laugh was music to his ears. soft, like your voice, but full of joy. the type of laugh that could light up a room and have even the gloomiest laugh along with you. he needed to savor it. to imprint the sound in his mind for the days he needs the encouragement to keep going. you found laughter even in a moment like this.

"it's only a matter of truth," you said, eyes flickering to his lips followed by a tilt of your head. when your lips brush, you murmur against his lips. "besides, wouldn't you miss hearing it from me the most?"

his stomach flutters at your words. of course he'd miss hearing your praise. not just for his beauty, but for anything. he held you in the highest regard, like you were a god yourself. but, it was easier to pretend he didn't care, and instead leave those words unspoken.

he settled for angling his lips to meet yours and disregarding your previous question. "you're being ridiculous." apollo mumbles, ignoring his aching heart.

then there is only silence as the two of you lean in to close the gap between you. like a magnet pulling you forward. when your lips touch, there's an immediate desire. your teeth smacking against each other, your hand pulling apollo's head in closer, deepening the heated kiss as much as you could. he didn't expect to feel droplets on his cheeks. you had cried. the realization made him want to weep.

you had nothing to lose, so you gave it your all. one last time.

the pull away was hesitant, and even then, your lips still ghosted one another's. forehead's touching, your eyes met. "i love you," you declared as if it was the first time you had confessed.

"i love you too." a silent goodbye hidden behind the desperation of his words.

you sighed contently as your expression softened and your eyes shut with a smile. apollo wanted to speak, to yell at you to keep your eyes open. keeping them on him until you couldnt anymore instead, he chose not to speak. the look on your face didn't let him.

you were happy. happy to accept your fate. you showed no signs of regret, no anger, no guilt, nothing that would keep you on this earth any moment longer. dying happily. who was apollo to take that from you?

his cries and begs would only put stress on you. you didn't deserve that. your death had to be just as beautiful as your birth.

so, apollo continued to sit there, watching your breath. how after a few seconds, it would begin to slow down, and the little tufts of warm air he felt against his cheek gently came to a stop. the cool air of nature taking its place.

your body was heavy against his. cold too. he didn't care, he would hold you until you were warm again. soon, as the hours went by, he would have to bring upon another day. a day that you would not get to be apart of.

until then, he would hold you under the moonlight one last time

they were caught. after making it onto the ship and successfully snagging caligua’s stupid sandals, they were taken by surprise by a horse. It was ridiculous. as piper laid out cold on the steed’s back, apollo made conversation about his demise. It was a nerve racking walk to the emperor’s throne room. caligua wasn’t merciful and apollo wasn’t sure of the whereabouts of meg and jason.

as a god, he thought he saw everything. but as lester, the surprises were never ending.

they made it to caligua’s throne, apollo’s eyes immediately scanning how many enemies were in the room. he wasn’t shocked to see the loyal attendants of caligua, nor was he shocked to see meg and jason trapped beside him.

but when his eyes settled onto the person beside caligua’s throne, apollo wanted to throw up. his heart thumping against his chest making him lose his breath. It was you. how was this possible? you died in his arms. In Ancient Greece.

reading the shock on his face, you dared to give him the smile he loved most as you stood behind the enemy. with a tilt of your head and a wave, you greeted him, “hello apollo, long time no see.”

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥'𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Being the Angel on Bucky’s shoulder meant you were the voice of calm, of reason — it did not mean the most sinful chants would fall from your lips and render both of you speechless. Until the day that it did.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 1.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Fluff ჻჻჻ SMUT: Uprotected piv, hair pulling ჻჻჻ KINKS: Daddy, praise, extreme degradation, breeding

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✰ I hope I did my first breeding kink fic... justice. 👀

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ✰ Closer by Nine Inch Nails ✰ Keep It Down by Migrant Motel

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 7 — “Who's this?” — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The first time was an accident. 

You hadn't meant to let it slip while Bucky fucked you so deep you could barely see straight, let alone think – so when it happened, both of you froze. 

Bucky was mid thrust – his hips came to a complete stop, seated to the hilt in your cunt, and you whined quietly; both in embarrassment and need. 

"What was that, sweetheart?" he asked, voice on the cusp of disbelief.

You paled and looked over your shoulder, gasping as Bucky settled his weight over your back, his hips tilting down only slightly so his cockhead would brush against that spot. "Nothing, I-I... please just fuck me, Bucky, please–"

"Oh, no, baby," Bucky purred, an arrogant smirk plastered on his bitten-red lips. "You need to repeat yourself for me, go on."

“I- Fuck,” you moaned, the shallow thrust of his hips distracting you. “Please, just keep going.”

“No,” Bucky growled, stopping his hips and breathing heavily in your ear. “You tell me what you just let slip, sweetheart–say it loud and clear for me.”

Stalling for a second, you braced – Bucky would hold back and drive you to the edge over and over if you didn’t do as you were told, you knew that for a fact. Was keeping it hidden worth it? You considered it, biting your lip and wiggling your hips for all your worth, which surprisingly, Bucky allowed. 

“‘M waitin’, baby girl, c’mon. Tell me,” he urged. 

“Fuck me, daddy,” you whispered, the fluttering butterflies cresting into a frenzy now the words were out in the open. “Please, please fuck me, daddy, need it,” you begged, a little louder.

Bucky hummed, nodding once. “Good girl, but that wasn’t what daddy heard, sweetheart. Try again.”

Fuck. 

“But-”

Bucky rumbled, a low laugh in his throat that sounded dangerous. “No buts, baby–c’mon. Say it aloud for me, say it for daddy, hmm?”

“Oh, god–okay, okay,” you rushed, mewling at the lack of movement. “Please fuck me, daddy!” A sharp thrust was your reward, and you smiled, biting your lip. “Feels s’good, daddy.”

“I know it does, baby, but you’re not doin’ as you’re told,” Bucky scolded, stopping his hips again. 

You whined loudly and felt your restraint slip – you needed him to move, and dammit all, why not repeat it?

“Fuck me, daddy,” you moaned, wriggling your hips as his heavy breath fanned over your shoulder. “Want daddy to fuck and breed me, please!”

The air left Bucky’s lung in a heavy exhale, like he had been punched in the guts. “God fuckin’ damn, doll,” he moaned, “hearing those words from those pretty lips? You better fuckin’ hold on.”

It was the only warning you received, and you braced. 

The room became filled with the sounds of slapping skin and Bucky’s grunts and moans while he fucked you into the mattress, all gentleness and hesitance vanishing, along with his self restraint. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, each thrust forward was filling you to the point it hurt – the pain was exquisite, and you wanted more. 

“Daddy! Please, more–need more!” you cried, gripping the sheets desperately. Bucky groaned and wound his fingers into your hair, fisting it and pulling your head back sharply. “Ah!”

“You want more, you fuckin’ slut?” Bucky growled, still thrusting in and out at a fevered pace. “You wanna please your daddy so he fucks you and breeds you, huh?” 

“Yesyesyes! Oh, god,” you moaned, mouth falling slack. “More! Need your cum, daddy, please!”

“Oh, you’ll fuckin’ get it, you fuckin’ bitch,” Bucky snapped, changing his grip so your head was forced down onto the mattress. “You will fuckin’ take it while daddy breeds you like the good bitch you are, won’t you?”

“Yes, daddy!” you wailed, thrashing under his weight while he fucked you. “Please, feels-”

“It’ll feel much fuckin’ better after I cum, angel,” Bucky said lowly, “‘m gonna cum in this perfect fuckin’ pussy and make a mess, only to fuck it back into you–understood?”

Under the weight of his hand, you nodded as best you could, unable to form words through the assault of pleasure burning through every last nerve – that coil set to spring at any second.

“Know you’re close, baby girl,” Bucky grunted, slamming his hips forward and grinding into your heat. “You’re gonna cum for me, and then daddy will fill you up–just what a good bitch is for, ain’t that right?”

The words tore through you, and you moaned loudly. “Yeah, please, wanna cum.”

“You can, angel, let it out,” Bucky soothed, still grinding his hips down into your ass. “Gimme it all, soak daddy’s dick–show me how good it feels to be fucked, baby.”

A low whine built to a shout as your climax gripped you like a vice, your entire body pulling taut and rigid as it flooded you. “Daddy! Daddy, please!”

“Tha’s a girl, good girl–let it go, lemme feel it,” Bucky praised, continuing to thrust shallowly. “Doin’ so good for daddy, cumming like that, c’mon, every last drop for me.”

The waves ebbed and flowed until you lay limp on the sheets, Bucky’s soothing rumbled words covering you like a blanket as you came down from the high. “Daddy,” you breathed, groping for his hand, and he offered it with a wide smile. 

“Such a good slut, takin’ it like that–now it’s daddy’s turn,” he said, and you giggled. 

Bucky wasn’t gentle. Each thrust drove you up the sheets and punched a moan from your lungs with the force. “S’good, daddy! Wan’ you to cum in me, please,” you begged, shuddering as he nailed your g-spot with reverence and a sniper’s precision. 

“I fuckin’ will, baby girl, angel–fuck you feel so good around me,” Bucky groaned, his forehead resting on your shoulder and his hair tickled your neck. “Sweetheart, please, I need t’a cum, please,” he begged, driving his hips desperately in and out. 

“Daddydaddy, yes, give it to me,” you called, nodding and canting your ass up into the air to better meet his thrusts. “Breed me, daddy, need it!”

“Fuck, fuck, thank you, baby girl,” Bucky moaned, his hips faltering. “‘M gonna fuckin’ fill you up, make you pregnant and oh fuckin’ hell-” A loud moan cut him off and a warmth bloomed in your cunt. “Take it–take it, be a good slut,” Bucky growled, and you whined as a second climax pulled you under. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, thrusting slowly. “Fuckin’ milkin’ daddy’s cock, such a good slut.”

You laid there, still pinned under his weight, with the biggest grin splitting your cheeks. “That was so fucking good, babe,” you breathed.

Bucky laughed, his hips still moving slowly. “Tell me ‘bout it, where the fuck was that hidin’, huh? Almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I… Um, well-” you hesitated, and decided to plunge on anyway. “I read books, and- And there’s, well-”

“You read porn, tha’s what you’re sayin’?” Bucky supplied, grinning down at you. You nodded. “Well, alright then,” he sighed, “I need to borrow those books, sweetheart.”

“What–why?” you floundered, turning around as far as you could to stare at his face. “Bucky, I don’t-”

“Because ‘m gonna read ‘em,” Bucky huffed, resting his weight on his arms, caging you on the mattress. “And then I will make sure you get to experience every one of ‘em.”

yes, this is coming back.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[needlereads]

Makes You Unsteady

Bucky Barnes x agent!Reader

Warnings: fem!reader; anxious Bucky; soft Bucky; not canon compliant at all

A/N: oh boy, first time posting a Bucky Barnes ff. I've been scribbling these little interactions of Bucky loving a SHIELD agent, and finally decided dammit I'm going to post them.

He paused at the end of the hall. This was stupid. You were asleep by this time. What had he planned on doing, knocking on your door and disturbing you? You probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

Before James could turn back towards the elevator, he heard a click and the motion sensing hall light around the corner came on. Peering past the corner, he was surprised to see the very woman who had been occupying his mind, very much not asleep as he had presumed. You leaned against your doorframe, loitering for a bit.

What were you doing up?

You finally turned, your steps would take you further from him. He knew Darren’s room was a couple of doors down from you.

Your name escaped his lips before he could think properly about the consequences. You turned, squinted at him with tired eyes.

“James?”

“Where you headed?” He strode towards you, as if it was normal to be making rounds in these private quarters.

You rubbed your eyes. As he drew closer he could tell you were growing more alert, though still adorably dazed from a lack of sleep.

“Oh, just over to Darren’s.” Your best friend was always the default destination when you didn’t want to be alone.

“Is something the matter?” He didn’t usually try to pry. But he couldn’t just stand still and let you walk away, couldn’t bear to watch you seek comfort in someone else when he was physically in your reach and ready to give comfort himself. Maybe he was tired out of his mind too, to disregard his usual inhibitions, let alone the chance of you asking him why he was wandering the building barely an hour after getting back from a mission.

“You just got back. You’re early.” Your eyes climbed down his body and up again. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m not.” Was it selfish that his heart glowed warmly to see you so concerned over his well-being? “Is something the matter? How come you’re up?” he asked gently again. Locks of bed-swept hair framed you face. His fingers twitched with the instinct to sweep them back and trace down you braid.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I could sit with you.” God what was he saying? “If you want, that is.”

“Yeah.”

James held his breath as you replied.

“I’d like that,” you said.

In your room, you both settled on your two seater sofa.

“Has it been like this for a while? Not being able to fall asleep?”

You shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I had a nightmare,” said, almost amused. “I don’t usually dream vividly, but tonight…”

He waited, hoping he wasn’t invading your privacy.

“It was the plane crash. The one my parents were in.” You had not been there for it, but your mind conjured images for you anyway. “As if I had been there too, like I had made my mom give up the window seat and then snuggled up to her side. I…was such a baby with her.” A breathy laugh left you. “Can’t even have the decency to be traumatized by something I actually went through. Like the burning building, or the explosion at the compound.” You didn’t catch his frown.

James swung his legs up, sitting criss-cross to face you. “Can I share something?”

You nodded.

“Sometimes in my sleep I feel like I’m falling and I can’t stop. It creeps me out and I can’t wait to wake up and stop falling.”

“The train,” you whispered.

He nodded. “But worse than that, worse than the nightmares about shooting on command, or the war battles that I don’t remember…I dream about my mom and sisters being killed. My mind convincing me that Hydra found them and shot each of them in the street, or that they drowned, or that they just…stopped breathing in their sleep.” He shook his head. “None of those things happened but I wake up and I want to throw up. I want to go back in time and hunt every Hydra piece of shit and kill them a hundred times over. I want…”

You stopped him with a hand over his metal one. “Don’t. Please.”

He was about to say he wanted to not wake up from his sleep either, and he could tell you had somehow heard those thoughts. He was pathetic, to break in front of you. He had no right to manifest such darkness in front of you. But your pleading eyes left him more breathless than the shame.

“Please?”

Anything, he would do anything you asked.

-*-*-*-*

He woke alone in your bed. Lifting his head towards the door separating your bedroom from the living room, covered with a navy blue patterned cloth. He made out your voice and footsteps on the other side. He really couldn’t be blamed for being able to hear you talking on your cellphone, especially when his name was brought up.

“- totally forgot to text you and then James and I both fell asleep. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad?”

A tinny laugh reached his ears. If he strained a bit he could hear the person on the other end of the phone. Probably Darren.

“I’m not. Just glad you didn’t try to ride it out alone. I was wondering when Barnes would finally make his move.”

You sighed, glancing at the door to your bedroom and stepping away, lowering your voice just short of a whisper. “He wasn’t – there was no move.”

Your friend uttered your name, exasperated. This wasn’t the first time he teased you about being in denial of love knocking on your doorstep.

“Hon, you deserve to love and be loved.”

“It’s not that.” You hesitated.

“Then what?”

You tugged at your hair. “Just…for someone who’s had so much taken from him, and who’s given up so much. I can’t…can’t ask that of him. I can’t be another burden for him.”

Darren was not happy with you. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. First of all, that’s not what you are. Second of all, it’s his choice to want you. Just like it’s yours to want him. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I’m not denying it,” you said firmly. “But that’s all. Just a want. I…I can’t.”

You heard your name and whipped around to find James standing in the middle of the living room. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your breaths measured.

“Darren, I’ll see you later.” You ended the call.

James felt each pulse of his blood in his veins as he tried processing what he’d heard. He knew his hearing couldn’t be mistaken. The way you looked at him, with a quiet honesty, urged hope to bloom inside his chest.

“James.” You paused, and he swore the world slowed on its axis. “I…”

“You want me?”

You felt helpless under his full attention. His eyes searched you, so vulnerable and earnest. You refused to lie to him.

“Yes.”

Despite what you said to Darren, now, oh, your single word of confirmation sounded so clear and sweet to him.

“You think you’re a burden to me?”

He had quietly closed the distance between you.

You lowered you gaze. “I’m trying not to become that to you.”

He dared to touch his finger to you chin, encouraging you to look at him.

“Let’s agree right now, that you won’t refer to yourself like that again.” His palm curved around your cheek. He wanted to touch every inch of you.

He held you through the night. Not sleeping, and not tired; just relishing in the contact of your skin on his, your warmth bleeding into his.

-*-*-*

[winchesterwild78]

Taking Care of Each Other

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader 

Warnings: Dean and his silly walls (yes that’s a warning), Smut!, unprotected sex (cover it up people), aftercare 

A/N: Last anon request for what aftercare would look like between Dean and the reader. I’m using the character, Dean, but this does not follow the Supernatural story at all. No disrespect to anyone, this is a work of fiction. All work is my own. I do not give permission for it to be taken. This was written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Dean Winchester, the green eyed man that rolls through town every few months for his job that he can’t tell you about. All he says is it’s “the family business” and his brother, Sam and him took it over when their father died. 

You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him the first time you met him, but one thing led to another and let’s be honest, how could anyone say no to him. He was built like he was carved by the gods and he was a very skilled lover. He took you places in the bed you’d never been and he always made you feel like you were the only woman in his life.

You were sure that wasn’t the case, but it was nice to think you were. Even if it was only for a few days. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” You heard the familiar voice behind you. You turned around and came face to face with Dean Winchester. “Hey, Dean. Good to see you”, you turned to fill the coffee of another customer. 

You felt his eyes on you the whole time you helped customers. You came back to his table to take his order. “Do you want your usual, Dean? Cheeseburger, fries, drink and a slice of cherry pie?” He touched your arm “You know me so well, sweetheart.” You pulled away. “I’ll put your order in, Dean. Sammy not joining you to eat?” 

“No, Sam didn’t come with me on this trip. Is everything okay, you don’t normally pull away from me.” “Yes, I’m just busy, Dean. We all can’t be our own boss.” You didn’t mean to sound snippy, but you were tired of the yoyo relationship with him. 

He sat back and watched you working. He loved watching you work and interact with people. That’s what drew him to you, your sweet personality and your kindness. He often thought about you on his hunts. Dean wanted to tell you about his life and what he did, but he needed to keep you safe.

Dean’s order was ready so you grabbed it from the window and walked it over to him. “Here’s your order, Dean. Let me know if you need anything else.” Dean looked at you “Thank you, Y/N. Um, what time do you get off?” “I get off in about an hour, why?” “Well, I was hoping we could talk.” “Talk?!? Ha! I didn’t know the great Dean Winchester knew how to talk with his clothes on.” 

“Wow, okay. Sorry I asked. I’ll eat and be out of your hair.” Dean looked defeated. You walked away and your heart broke. Why did you talk to him like that? He didn’t deserve it. You walked around the diner helping other customers, but your eyes kept looking over at Dean. He’d barely touched his food. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest.

Once your tables were cleared you walked over to Dean and sat across from him. “Dean, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you. It’s unfair and just mean. If I’m being honest I’m just hurt. I feel like our relationship is just a convenience for you when you’re in town. I don’t know anything about your job, and you keep all these walls up. I care about you. If I’m being completely honest, I’m in love with you.”

Dean’s green eyes looked up at you and he took your hand. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. My life is hard and I just wanted to protect you from it. I care about you too. You’re not just a convenience for me.” 

“Dean, then please trust me enough to tell me about your life. I want to know all about you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I’d give up everything to be with you. I know you have walls up, but dammit, Dean I’m going to break them down if it’s the last thing I do.” Dean smirked. “I know you will, darlin’. How about after you get off we go back to your place and talk. If you want to.” “Dean, I’d love to.”

About 2 hours later you were pulling into your driveway with Dean behind you in the Impala. Dean climbed out of the car looking sexy as ever. You bit your lip. You shook your head, No! Stop it. You can’t end up in bed with him. You’re here to talk.  

Dean walked up and looked around. “The house looks great, sweetheart.” “Thanks, Dean. I’ve tried to keep it up. I just finished remodeling the inside. Shall we go in?” Dean shook his head yes. 

Once inside your dog, Tilly came bounding up to Dean. She always loved him and was excited to see him. Dean sat on the couch and Tilly jumped up and licked him while wagging her tail. He laughed as she covered him with licks. You loved his laugh. 

“Dean, I’m going to go change. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  “Okay, Tilly and I will be here waiting.” “You can grab a beer if you want.” Dean nodded and you turned to head towards your room.

Dean stood up and walked around looking around at how things had changed since he was last there. “Looks good, Tilly. She’s been busy.” Tilly wagged her tail at Dean. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. As he sat down on the couch, you came back into the living room with an oversized shirt and shorts on. Dean smirked, he realized the shirt you were wearing was one of his. 

“What’s so funny, Winchester?” “Oh nothing, just that shirt was mine.” You looked down and blushed. “Well, I like it. It’s comfortable.” You and Dean stared at each other for a few minutes. You felt yourself leaning in. Tilly jumped up and you cleared your throat. 

“So, Dean, what did you want to talk about?” You asked softly. Dean shifted on the couch and turned towards you. “Sweetheart, I wanted to talk about us. You know my job takes me all over the country. It’s dangerous and has cost me people I love. I’ve tried to keep you out of it to protect you. I wouldn’t survive if something happened to you too. He took a deep breath and let it out. Sammy and I hunt things, monsters and other bad things. All of it is real, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, you name it. We cross the country protecting people and helping families that are in danger.” Dean placed his hand on your face, running his thumb over your cheek. “You mean too much to me. I meant it when I told you that you were the only one I’ve been with since we met. I think about you when I’m gone and can’t wait to see you again.”

“Sammy didn’t come with me this time because I asked him to stay at the bunker. I wanted to come and talk to you. I’m not here on a job.” You sat on the couch staring at Dean trying to take in everything he told you. “So, monsters are real, and you go around the country killing them? You’ve been doing this since you were little? Oh my god Dean. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry you had to grow up like that.” 

“Hey, Y/N, I’m fine. It just made me tougher.” You took your hand and placed it gently on Dean’s face. “It’s still not right. I’m sure your dad did the best he could, but you deserve so much more.” You leaned close, stopping halfway hoping he would move the rest of the way. Dean looked in your eyes and moved towards you. 

He placed a soft kiss on your lips and you kissed him back. Dean’s tongue swiped your lips asking for entrance. You opened your mouth slightly and Dean deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth and more when you felt his hands trailing up your body.

Dean loved to touch you and be close to you. After what he told you about his childhood and life, you realized he craved touch because he was so touch starved. It made your heart hurt for him.  

His hands played with the hem of your shirt and you pulled out of the kiss long enough to remove your shirt. Dean bit his lip when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. “Damn baby, just as beautiful as ever.” 

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands trailed up your body from your hips to your breasts. His calloused hands slowly cupped your breasts and you moaned. Dean took his left thumb and index finger and squeezed your left nipple, while he took your right one in his mouth. He started sucking. Pulling a loud moan from your lips as your head leaned back.

He smirked around your nipple. Dean knew all the spots that drove you wild. You knew how to drive him wild too. 

Feeling the slick pool between your thighs you knew you wanted Dean. Through the thin material of the shorts you had on, you could feel Dean’s hardness through his jeans. You moved your body down into his erection. Causing a growl to come from his lips. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.” You looked in his eyes, now dark green with lust. You bit your lip and pulled him in for a deep kiss.Your walls clenched. Between pants you pulled back “Dean, take me to the bedroom, please.” “Are you sure, sweetheart?” “Yes, Dean. I want you.”

Dean picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. He laid you on the bed gently before closing the door with his foot. Dean removed his shoes and shirt, and slid his jeans down looking directly in your eyes. 

He drove you wild when he did that. He knew it too. You groaned and leaned your head back, Dean chuckled. He made his way to the bed and hovered over you, kissing your lips. His lips trailed down your neck, biting your pulse point making you moan. Dean continued kissing down your body until he got to the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you through his eyelashes.

He was asking for permission to remove them. You nodded yes and he hooked his fingers and pulled them down with your panties. You lifted your hips to help him. Dean threw your clothes to the side and kissed his way up your thigh. He used his hands to gently part your legs. Exposing your dripping wet core to him. 

You could see his hardness through his boxers. You both looked at each other with lust and love in your eyes. Dean slid off his boxers and his hardness sprang free. You huffed out a shaky breath. Dean was the biggest you’d ever had. He filled you and made you feel things you hadn’t before. 

As he climbed between your legs his hand slid up your thigh. He used his right hand to part your folds, feeling your wetness and need. You bucked your hips into his hand and moaned. “Please, Dean.” “Patience sweetheart.” He purred in your ear. 

You felt his fingers dip into your wet pussy and his thumb rub circles on your swollen clit. Dean moved his fingers and thumb faster, helping you chase your much needed release. You moved your hips into his hand. You were close. Faster than you thought you’d get there. “Dean…I’m….close.” Your breath hitched

“I know baby, cum for me. Come on, let it all go.” Dean whispered. With a deep moan you came hard, squeezing his fingers and releasing your juices. Dean pulled out his fingers and leaned up, capturing your lips. “You ready, baby?” Dean asked as he lined himself up to you. You nodded yes. 

Dean pumped himself a few times and placed the tip at your entrance. As he pushed in you both gasped and moaned. It had been far too long since you two had been together. He pushed the rest of the way in bottoming out. Dean stilled himself for a minute, trying to compose himself. 

He didn’t want to cum too fast, but you felt amazing wrapped around him. Dean’s movements were slow and meticulous. He was savoring every second he had you in his arms. His lips found yours as he slowly moved in and out of you. Your hands slid up his back and into his hair. The sound of moans and pants of pleasure filled the room. 

You’d slept with Dean many times before, but this time felt different. Something had shifted between you two once he told you about his life. 

With every touch and kiss you felt Dean’s walls coming down. His eyes filled with so much love and relief. Dean’s head rested in the crook of your neck as he slowly moved in you. His hot breath on your body sent chills down your spine. Your hands traced up and down his back, feeling how his muscles moved. 

Your resolve was wearing down. You didn’t want to fall deeper in love with him, because you didn’t want to be hurt, but you couldn’t help it. In a breathy voice you whispered “I love you, Dean. So much.” Dean stilled and looked in your eyes. He softly kissed your lips and said “I love you too, sweetheart.”

This was the first time he’d ever said it to you. Usually he said he cared about you or you meant a lot to him, but he never said ‘love’. As Dean got closer to his release, he sped up a little. With one final thrust he spilled his hot seed deep inside you. Coating your walls with white ropes of cum. 

He slowly pulled out as he felt himself softening and got up to go to the bathroom. When he returned he brought a warm washcloth to clean you up. Dean cleaned you gently, leaned up and kissed your lips before leaving the room. 

When he returned he had brought you water. Handing you the water, he grabbed the sheet and covered you both up as he crawled in next to you. When you placed the cup down, he held out his arm for you to lay on. 

Dean pulled you close to him and you laid your head on his chest, delicately tracing his tattoo with your finger tips. He kissed the top of your head “I do love you Y/N, so much. I’ve been a fool. I should have told you a long time ago.” You looked up at him “Shh, it’s okay baby, you told me and that’s all that matters.” 

Dean smiled and kissed your lips. “Hey, move in with me. Move in with me and Sammy.” You sat up “What?! You want me to move in with you?” “Yes! That way I don’t have to be away from you. You can have your own room if you want or we can share my room. What do you say?” You looked at Dean’s face so full of love and eagerness, “Yes. Yes, Dean I’ll move in with you.” 

He smiled and captured your lips with his. You laid your head back down on his chest and he pulled you tighter. Being with Dean was always amazing, but afterwards was your favorite part. It’s when Dean’s softer side really showed. He always made sure you were taken care of and felt safe. He loved holding you and would trace patterns on your back. At first you thought it was random movements, then you realized he was actually writing his name with his finger tips. It was the sweetest thing you’d ever experienced. 

Moving in together was a huge step for you too, but you knew you would always take care of each other. 

Tags: @nescaveckdaily  @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

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@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @1-read-the-hobbit-in-1937

[sailoryooons]

okay, Yoongi rec time. I am prepared for you to ruin my life, lessgo~~~

Gimme feelings and vibes, babe!!!! These two understand each other, they are the safe space for one another, their quiet compatibility is god tier.

Premise: Yoongi is 'the one that got away' to you. When you're unexpectedly thrown into each other's worlds again, every old feeling you had takes over like he never left - and it's clear that it's mutual. Problem... Yoongi has a girlfriend.

(Prefer no infidelity, just Yoongi having to make a hard choice, realizing the depth of what he had/and could have again now with reader is more substantial. And reader not being completely sure (maybe from miscommunication or lack of it) what his choice will be.)

honestly idc how smutty you make it, if you want to throw me a bone (huhuhu) and have some spice you know i'm not complaining :)

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Unresolved feelings lead to nothing but heartache when you run into Yoongi at a wedding five years after breaking up. Especially when you realize that despite Yoongi have feelings for you, there is still another woman on his arm. 

❀ Word Count: 3,641

❀ Genre: Angst, exes to lovers, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: STUPID PINNING!!!! LIKE JUST TWO IDIOTS WHO NEED TO GET OVER THEIR PRIDE AND GET BACK TOGETHER!!!!!! Angst, a lot of internal pondering on relationships and life, Yoongi is honestly a terrible boyfriend to his current girlfriend (he is in love with reader and it’s very obvious) bickering about relationships, Hyori seems like a bitch but tbh she is in the worst situation lmao, depiction of a breakup, a lot of aching and being wistfully sad, explicit language, sexua content including vaginal fingering, light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, some cum and fluids idk they’re sweaty, this is more of an emotional/prosey smut scene than filth, FeElInGs

❀ Published: August 1, 2023

❀ A/N: JO IT TOOK ME A YEAR TO FILL THIS REQUEST FOR YOU BUT GOD DAMMIT I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE THIS REQUEST. I HOPE THAT THIS FITS THE VIBE OF WHAT YOU WERE THINKING AFTER WAITING FOR ME TO FUCKING WRITE IT FOR LITERALLY 365 DAYS. I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH AND THIS IS UNEDITED OKAY. HERE'S TO HALI'S HAPPY AGUST'S FIRST REQUEST DROP!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Song Inspiration | Hali's Happy Agust

“Is that her?” Yoongi doesn’t have to turn to look at who Hyori is talking about. Her tone, tightening grip on his arm, and the way she stiffens says all that he needs to know. “Well? Is it?”

Yoongi doesn’t want to turn around and look. His back and shoulders hurt from sleeping on the hotel couch, his eyes burn from being unable to sleep after staying up most of the night fighting with Hyori, and he knows that Hyori knows what you look like. As if she has not spent hours scrutinizing every part of your life on social media. 

Perhaps it’s Yoongi’s fault. He thinks of all the things he’s done for the last two years. Or better - he thinks of all the things that he hasn’t done that have landed him here at this wedding with Hyori seething at your very presence in the same room. 

It’s only partially Hyori’s fault. Yoongi could have done better to make her feel secure, to ensure that she felt like he was in this relationship without thoughts of you, to make her feel like he would always be about her and not you. 

Yoongi loves quietly, though. Too quietly for a bright, burning star like Hyori, who has turned into a flaring nova over the last year, burning Yoongi when he dares to get too close but freezing him out when he gets too far. 

He doesn’t know what to do, so Yoongi does what Hyori wants him to do. He turns and looks over his shoulder, eyes scanning the entrance to the garden that Seokjin and his fiance have selected for their reception. 

When he sees you, Yoongi swears he could die. His heart squeezes, his stomach flips. He keeps his features schooled as much as he can, knowing that his girlfriend is watching his every movement, waiting for another reason to dig her nails in deeper, waiting to say I told you so. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles and turns back around without looking back again. “That’s her.” 

Hyori hums, seemingly satisfied with Yoongi’s lack of interest in you. Her grip softens and she melts into him a little. He fights the urge to lean away, the sudden sight of you making him want to put distance between himself and Hyori.

She did tell me so, he thinks when he realizes that his first instinct of being in the same room with you again is to be away from anyone else. Fuck. 

“I don’t like her dress.”

Yoongi hums in agreement, but he couldn’t disagree more. He thinks you look stunning in your silk, sky blue gown. It glows against your skin and Yoongi already knows you’ll smell like vanilla with a hint of cherries, a scent that used to drive him wild. He knows you taste as sweet as you smell, skin warm and soft and-

“Are you listening?” Hyori asks, voice ringing with annoyance. 

He wasn’t. “Sorry, I was wondering how many people they invited.”

“Looks like a hundred or so. Did you see who Taehyung brought?”

Hyori launches into assessing the dates brought to the wedding as people are seated for the ceremony. Yoongi hums and nods when appropriate, but his thoughts are miles away from petty conversations with his girlfriend.

Instead, he’s focused on you. Three rows up and on the other side of the aisle, sitting next to Hoseok. You laugh and Yoongi begins to bleed at the seams, all of his wounds that he’s spent the last five years trying to heal opening up for him to drip with pain. 

It’s stupid, this endless longing for you. You’d broke it off with him because it was getting too complicated and because Yoongi had missed every opportunity to give you reasons to stay. He knows that you’re happy and he loves seeing you happy, knows that you have no ill will toward him. You wish each other happy birthday, and he texted you when a mutual friend passed away. 

So why is it so painful? Yoongi was happy with Hyori at first. She is everything he is not: bright, outspoken, full of energy, adventurous and social. He liked the way that she compliments him, where she makes up for where he lacks. But now, all of those differences have become obstacles, and what they had once admired one another for has become irritations. 

When the ceremony starts, Yoongi knows he’s supposed to look back at the bride and watch her enter. Knows that she will be beautiful and it is her day and she is owed all of the attention in the world. But it’s you he watches, waiting with his breath held as you turn, eyes sweeping to watch the bride enter.

And then you’re looking at him and Yoongi breaks. A single look in five years and he knows with sudden, lightning-strike clarity that he cannot do this anymore. The stab of longing is far greater than looking at you from a distance, the weight of your gaze crushing.

Yoongi realizes that there is nothing worse than watching two people proclaim their love in front of their family and friends while the love of his life is sitting three rows, and an aisle away. 

-

Letting out a shaky breath, you bring the flute of champagne to your lips, knocking back the entire thing. It burns on the way down and the carbonation fluxes, making you cough as a sudden burning sensation singes your nose, making you choke.

You set the glass down quickly, coughing your way through swallowing the alcohol the wrong way. Hoseok appears, patting your back and asking, “Shit, you okay?”

“Wrong pipe.”

“Maybe don’t chug your champagne like you’re using a beer bong in college.”

“Well maybe I need stronger champagne,” you shoot back. You immediately wince at your tone, Hoseok raising his brows. “Sorry. Very on edge. I knew seeing him would suck but I didn’t expect to feel like my rib cage would crack open.”

“By the looks of it, you’re not the only one.” 

Gritting your teeth, you follow Hoseok’s gaze, glancing over your shoulder toward the far end of the reception room. Yoongi is leaning back in his seat, slouched slightly in his chair and staring off into the distance unseeing. Next to him, his girlfriend Hyori giggles with the woman next to her at their table, either unaware of her boyfriend disassociating or over it. 

The worst part about Hoseok’s comment is that it’s true. Seeing Yoongi’s face during the ceremony was all you needed to see to know that it isn’t just you being burned by the fire. You aren’t alone in your pain, but you're not the one in a committed relationship. You’re not the one who has sat passively and let the world and love pass you by. 

It’s knowing that hurts so much, you think. Knowing that you love Yoongi more than anyone else in the room. Knowing that maybe walking away because you were too young to understand his love language or how he could do better for you was a mistake. 

Five years has given you a lot to think about. You don’t move through the world the same way, and you have a better understanding of the way that people pour love into relationships. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like now that distance has made you understand Yoongi more. You cannot help but ache over imagining that he has fixed all the things about himself you struggled with for another. 

“He loves her,” Hoseok murmurs, speaking your thoughts. “But not… like he loves you.”

“Well, that’s his problem.” You pick at a stray hair on your dress. “I admit I was immature and impatient and didn’t give him the chances to be what I needed, but… if he wants me and won’t take me, isn’t that why I left in the first place?”

Hoseok hums his agreement with an undercurrent of sadness. “Come on, let’s dance. Weddings are for celebrating love, not watching it die.” 

Hand in Hoseok’s, you let him lead you out onto the floor, spinning you wildly until you’re crashing into Jungkook and Taehyung’s arms, laughing and letting the music sweep you up and away from the hurt. The pain of knowing Yoongi is right there dulls a little. 

Being with your friends helps. It takes your thoughts away from thinking of all the things that you did wrong, like ignoring the ways Yoongi was silently telling you that he loved you, like getting mad for not seeing what he was saying in his own, quiet way. 

Yoongi isn’t faultless but neither are you blameless, which is perhaps why it hurts so much when you catch glances of him on the other side of the room. His hair is longer than it’s ever been and you wonder if it’s just as soft as it used to be. His face is just as round and soft, and yet he looks older somehow, more mature. 

It’s hard not to wonder what it would be like if you’d just given him the chance to be better for you. What it would be like if you had been more patient and understanding of him.

Yoongi does not love loud. He does not exist brightly splashed across paper the way that you do. He loves gently, with your cup of coffee waiting and ready for you every morning, and the oil in your car changed, and the broken shelf in your library mended. He is a soft shadow, the gentle hand on your back at an art gallery you wanted to visit and a held hand at a show he didn’t like but you did. 

Sweat lines your forehead and sticks to your arms from dancing. You excuse yourself to take a break and freshen up in the bathroom, the cool air of the venu making you shiver as you wend through candle-lit tables filled with sleeping elders and children stealing wedding cake. 

In the hall, you teeter toward the bathroom. After being plied with champagne and some tequila from Taehyung to loosen you up, you feel a little too loose, like you might melt on the floor if you don’t get some water and a seat somewhere underneath an air vent. 

“Fuck you,” someone hisses, their voice loud enough to stop you from turning the corner of where the bathrooms are. This section of the hotel is empty, reserved only for events and Seokjin’s wedding is the only event for the evening. “Why did you fucking bring me, then? I told you it would be just like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You will be. I have tried, Yoongi. I have tried for a year now, and nothing I do matters. No matter how hard I love you, you still love her. It isn’t fair and it’s cruel.”

Your heart speeds up when you realize it’s Hyori’s hissing voice you hear and Yoongi’s soft baritone. You chew your bottom lip, turning to look at the empty hall behind you. There’s no one around, the wedding working into the late hours of the evening. There doesn’t seem to be another set of bathrooms, and you can’t imagine trying to walk past Hyori and Yoongi in the middle of this. 

“You’re right,” Yoongi sighs. You know that sound. Defeated. Sad. 

“That’s all you have to say? That I’m right?” 

“I don’t know what else to say. You are right. You don’t deserve the effort that I’ve given you, I have been incredibly unfair, and though I love you, it doesn’t erase what I feel for her. It is the worst kind of cruelty I can think of, and I thought I’d get over it. I didn’t.” 

“You are the worst kind of person.”

Before you can get yourself together at the sound of Hyori’s clicking heels, she’s turning the corner and nearly slamming into you. She takes a few steps back, eyes wide and blinking in surprise. When she realizes it's you, her face twists into something cruel and venomous. 

Instead of saying anything, Hyori rushes by you, shoulder smacking yours. You teeter but don’t stumble, staring at the empty space where she was moments ago. You’re not sure you deserve her wrath, but you understand it. You don’t blame her for it. There is no happiness at her pain, no twist of pride at winning. Knowing that her pain is because it’s still about you. Always has been. 

Licking your lips, you take a shaky breath and peek around the corner. Yoongi is standing in the empty hall with his head tilted back toward the ceiling, eyes closed. His long hair falls to his shoulders around him. He looks so beautiful in a suit and bowtie, a picture perfect groom if you thought about it long enough.

Tears sparkle in the corner of his eyes before tracking down his face. His pain is tangible, and before you know what it is you’re doing, you’re walking toward him. He either doesn’t hear you coming or doesn’t care that there is someone to see him cry, because he doesn’t look down at you until your hand is in his and you’re squeezing. 

Warmth blooms between your palms. His are rough and calloused like you remember, all from playing guitar and taking the woodshop classes he loves so much. He still smells like cedar and sage, hypnotizing and dark in a way that makes you want to fall into him each time you inhale. 

Yoongi’s eyes open, lined in silver-tears. He looks so in pain and so beautiful, this soft boy who is now a man. Different but familiar. A burn and a balm. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, quick to speak first. Your hand squeezes his more as Yoongi opens up in front of you on command. As if he only has a moment to correct all of his mistakes in a single breath. “I get it now,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I do, and I’m sorry. And you look beautiful, and happy and I am so happy for you.” 

“I know.” You feel a burn in your eyes and realize there are tears threatening to break free. “I- me too. Can we just?” 

You don’t have to say what you mean. Yoongi gets it - has always gotten it. From the beginning, to the end. Even when he’s confused, he figures it out. Knows how to put the pieces of your puzzle together for the full image. 

Just a tiny exchange leads you to a twist of muttered words, spilled tears and Yoongi’s mouth on yours. You don’t know when he kisses you first or if it was you, but you know that his mouth is on yours and he is warm warm warm and his mouth tastes like whiskey. You breathe him in, fingers pulling at the lapels of his jacket. You want more more more - you always do with him.

Yoongi is a giver. He never takes. He lets you take from him. He crushes you with the weight of his love on the bed, hands feverish and hungry as he pulls your legs up to wrap around his waist. You moan as his rough palms skate up your exposed thigh, lighting a fight as he strokes your skin. 

It feels like you might suffocate. The air between you is static as Yoongi sucks your tongue into his mouth, making you shiver. Kissing him has always been your greatest weakness and you forget the way he breaks you apart with gentle swipes of his tongue, the soft nibbling of your bottom lip between his teeth. 

You feel like an exposed wire, sparking under Yoongi’s touch. He pulls the dress from your overwhelmed skin, your nipples pebbling in the cold air as his mouth moves from your tips, to your jaw, to your throat. Your pulse beats wildly under the careful touch of his teeth against your skin, the sting of his bites soothed by a swipe of his tongue.

Trembling and panting, you pull at his pants. Yoongi’s skin is hot to the touch, firm in places you don’t remember and soft in places that you do. Your fingers trace his lines and curves, remembering, discovering. You want to learn all of the new things about him and recall the things you already knew. 

“Fuck,” you gasp as Yoongi’s wet mouth wraps around a pert nipple. He hums and gives a vicious suck, making your back arch off of the bed. His tongue flicks across your hardened bud a few times, making you twitch under him. “Yoongi.”

He lets go with a pop, a string of spit connecting his mouth and your skin. “Say it again,” he whispers, voice ragged. “Missed hearing you say it.”

“Yoongi,” you say again.

You don’t stop saying his name - can’t stop saying his name. Not when he slides his hands between your legs, fingers trailing through your soaking cunt. Not when he circles those nimble fingers around your clit, sparking pleasure deep inside of you.

It feels like you’re on the edge of madness. Years of want and hurt and desire come bursting to the surface all at once. Your hands slide through Yoongi’s hair, just as soft as you remember it being. You tug hard on the locks, making him moan deeply into your shoulder. His breath is hot against your skin as he teases you, fingers tracing your entrance but doing nothing.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Just wanted to see if you still get all worked up.” His laugh turns into a groan when you pull his hair harder. You feel his cock straining against your thigh, sticky tip tacky against your skin. “You still do.”

“You have some nerve saying that like your cocks not drooling on my thigh, Yoongi.”

“Fuck, I know.” He slowly slides a finger into your dripping heat. You curse, arching up into him. It isn’t enough. “Could bust just fingering this tight fucking pussy.”

“More.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi inserts another finger and you feel fuller, better. You nod, eyes fluttering shut as he sets a gentle pace, fucking his fingers into you at an angle to press up against that soft spot inside of you that makes you whine. “I still got it.” 

“Shut up.”

Yoongi has a right to be smug. It feels like you’re going to shatter, your hips coming off the bed to meet his thrusting hand. Your mouths smash together, teeth and tongues colliding. It’s messy and wet but Yoongi is yours again - maybe not forever, but he is in this moment and it's all you want. All that matters. 

Dizzy and drunk on him, you let him work you toward your high, the wet-smack of his fingers between your thighs bracketing the high-pitched sounds escaping you. He attaches his mouth to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, licking and sucking until you’re trembling under him, hands shooting to his arms and legs squeezing his hips as you come apart around his fingers, walls squeezing him tight.

Curses drip from his mouth as he shifts forward, pressing you further into the mattress, thrusting his fingers harder. Your orgasm reaches a peak and your mind is near breaking, ears ringing as he drags it out. You try to move away from him but pull him with you, reaching over stimulation but wanting more. 

Yoongi drives you mad. Has always driven you mad. You crave him even more as he pulls his fingers from your fluttering cunt, smearing your slick down your thigh as he gets up on his knees. Your legs fall open for him, butterflied as he strokes his heavy cock in his hand, watching you catch your breath.

Sweat sticks to your skin, the sheets clinging to you. Your thighs protest as Yoongi presses you open and slides his cock along your sticky folds. You twitch when his tip catches your clit, little shockwaves pulsing through you from the stimulation. 

Biting his bottom lip, Yoongi angles his hips to push in on his next teasing upstroke and you gasp. The stretch is painful and good, the pressure mounting as he pries you open. You feel yourself drift a little, lost in the feeling as he presses into the hilt, stopping to let your walls flutter around him. 

“So fucking tight,” he mutters, falling forward to cage you in with his arms. “Fuck.”

“So fucking big,” you shoot back. “Not my fucking fauuult.”

Your words turn into a mewl as he pulls out and slams back in, hips smacking with bruising force against yours. Yoongi’s laughter is dark against your mouth as he presses his lips to yours. You breathe hard against one another, sharing breath as he fucks you hard and deep.

Sliding your hands along his back, you grab him and pull him closer. Press your fingers into his shoulder blades, grip sliding with the sweat on his back. He works you so easily that within a few moments you’re delirious, babbling under him and near tears that finally - finally - you have him again. Something you’d never thought you’d get. 

Apologies spill from his mouth. Yoongi tells you everything he always meant to say. Everything you always wanted from him. You mutter it back, pull sweet words from his tongue, claw him open and make him shudder at your touch. 

Forehead pressed to yours, dark eyes burning, Yoongi brings you back to the precipice again. This time when you come, it’s together, your body squeezing tight, muscles spasming. Yoongi kisses you then, shaking above you as you ride it out together, unable to think of anything else but Yoongi. 

Later, when he’s asleep next to you and you’re wreathed in the warm cage of his arms, you think never again. Never again will you risk this heartache and let him go.