#like i know some of it is the shirt billowing a lil | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

binniesthighs · 3 years ago

Text

cherry knot | reader x ryujin

a/n: you may be thinking to yourself, ro! a gg fic?? how unlike you!! well, boy do i have news for you 😂 truthfully, i’ve always been toying with the idea of writing a lil somethin’ (esp for ryujin god i love her) so i thought why not! if this isn’t your cup of tea, that’s totally okay <3 those who do read, thank you so much for reading and i hope that ya like it hehe and let me know what you think of it! :D (thank you @dom--minnie for enabling me too ;)

cherry knot | reader x ryujin

🍒 Pairing: self insert, female reader x shin ryujin

🍒 Genre: fluff n’ a lil bit suggestive

🍒 Tags: friends to lovers, high school au (everyone depicted is 18+), all girls school au, high school crush!ryujin, shy!reader, confession of feelings, that good, good makin’ out, ryujin being flirty and smug as hell bc i love her, yeah this is just me gushing about shin ryujin, ro trying new things on the blog :)

🍒 Word count: 2.9k

🍒 CWs: mentions of food and eating reader included

The grass felt sticky and uncomfortable under your crossed legs, and when you swiped your hand against the skin, you could feel the indentation from the blades. Your knee-high socks felt itchy too; everything felt itchy. Even the cotton of your shirt felt like it was suffocating, and the bow tied around your neck which hung loosely should have hung even looser.

To distract yourself, you plucked up the blades of green and tied them into knots absentmindedly. It was easier to pay attention to your idle hands compared to paying attention to her.

Could she even tell that you were looking? Could she see out of the corner of her eye when she threw her cotton-candy pink hair behind her ear? Could she tell that you watched as she gulped down the lemonade and caught a glance at the peachy fuzz of her neck exposed by her collar?

Stop looking. Stop looking.

Your other friends tied up their hair in clips and with lazy hair ties to free their sweating necks from the sun. No matter the sweltering heat, it was always tradition for your picnic just before the summer vacation. One of them had brought a cake and each of the girls attacked it viciously with small forks and smeared bits of frosting on each other’s noses.

“Come here!! You’re next!!” They beamed while launching themselves in your direction to dot your nose with the white cream.

A flurry of high pitched giggles peeled out from each of you once another frosting victim had been dubbed. Your cheeks felt furiously hot knowing that she was looking; and that she was laughing along with the rest of them.

“Awwww cute.” She adored with a smile that turned her dimples into whiskers on her cheeks.

You quickly wiped it off with a handkerchief that settled into your damp hand.

She’s looking, she’s looking…

The other girls pranced around the checkered picnic blanket in their white socks--undoubtedly painting them with green that their mothers would scold them for later. Their careless steps made a mess of the food wrappers and canvas backpacks that held down the corners of the thin fabric. The joyous cheers of the girls seemed to harmonize with the song of the cicadas in the trees; both sounds reminded you of the coming of the summer and the humid weather that makes the air dense.

One of the girls brought out her phone and played loudly from it one of her favorite songs which she knew every word too, regardless of the fact that her tone was far from the singer’s.

You and your friends never cared much for how others would view you. Even at school when you would march through the hallways arm-and-arm, others would stare at the way that none of you batted an eye at those who would glare.

They were just jealous was all.

“Be careful!!” You found yourself scolding, “What if you fall running around like that?”

In response, your friends promptly stuck out their tongues in your general direction.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryujin coolly popped another cherry into her mouth from the bowl by her crossed legs. “If they fall, let them! It's funnier that way.”

She threw a wink right at you, which you almost didn’t catch because you had quickly averted your eyes to become much more interested in the tiny tea-cakes.

“You’re always worrying Y/n! Its summer!”

“I-I do not.”

Ryujin chuckled in that way that always made you feel like your heart was just about ready to leap out of your chest.

“Lighten up! Come on!”

Before you could process it all, your friend patted down the wrinkles in her skirt and threw off her shoes. She rose, and neared your corner of the blanket with hands outstretched.

“Stop worrying about things or if people are watching!” She scolded you with a cute and tiny pout, “Get up!” Ryujin wriggled her hands with emphasis to show you that you could take hold of them.

“W-what…?”

The other girls giggled on, hardly even noticing the two of you over their singing.

You grabbed onto her hands, already loathing how damp your own felt against hers out of your own nervousness. She still held onto you tightly, saying nothing of them and helped you to your feet. Immediately she brightened once you played along and started to swing your arms in tune with the song. Your friend lip synced to the rap part and you felt just about ready to swoon from how cool she looked saying the words with ease.

“Dance with me!! Don’t pay attention to people walking by or anything like that!”

Ryunjin led you by the hand to the patch of grass with little white and pink flowers laced into it. You really did try to pay attention to dancing, but everything else seemed to be distracting even when you tried hard enough. She brought your hand up higher to spin her, and when she twisted, everything seemed to happen in slow motion: the billow of her plaid shirt, her rosy-pink hair which swiped just at her shoulders, even the way that the sunset melted behind her into swirls of sunburst yellow and vibrant orange. It was like she was all a part of it.

“Your turn!” She said, twisting you too.

You didn’t realize that you would have been as dizzied by it as you were, but when you lost your footing, she was just as quick to help you with her hands carefully grasped onto your shoulders.

“You okay?” Ryujin asked, out of breath, but still genuine.

“I’m fine!”

Your knees wobbled with barely any strength to them, but you mustered every bit of confidence that you had to keep being this close to her. You surprised yourself when you reached back for her hands to continue swinging them between you.

The other girls collapsed back onto the blanket in a pile of shallow exhales and airy laughs that they exchanged between them.

“No more dancing, I-I can’t do any more…” One of them announced while leaning against the shoulder of another one of your friends.

“I forgot! I brought this!!” One of your friends with pigtail braids dove deeply into her backpack and pulled out nearly all of the contents before finding the small cube-case which was decorated with an obscene amount of keychains. “My camera! We have to take some pictures so that we can remember this!”

The other girls squealed in agreement and ganged up on her to fit into the frame of the white Polaroid camera that she had also splattered with stickers.

“Here, I wanna show you something.” Ryujin drew your attention back to the blanket where she settled back down with her own bag draped over her legs.

“What is it?”

“Ryujinnie! I wanna take your picture too! Your pink hair is so pretty…” One of your friends cooed with a sad downturn to her lips, “I hope that you never change it.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. We’ll see. My cousin has been saying that she wants to see what I would look like blonde these days.”

The small talk didn’t concern you too much, you were more concerned with what it was that your friend had to show you.

“I’m going on a trip with my cousins soon so we’ll see what happens.”

Your friend sighed, and skipped over the mess of the blanket to pull Ryujin by the wrist to the walkway a little farther off. “You’d look so cute over here!”

She pardoned her, and stumbled after the eager girl to let her take a Polaroid of her. Even from far away, you could still hear the two of them admire the picture with happy little expressions of “ah! I told you that it would look good!”

The two girls returned, and you began to worry if your friend even remembered what she had said in the first place.

What is it? What does she want to show me?

“Shoot!!” Another one of your friends huffed out while looking at her phone, “I forgot that I have to tutor the middle schoolers today!! I’m late!!”

The girls went to action in a mere matter of seconds sweeping up the picnic assortment and shoving the leftovers into their backpacks.

You helped them and tried to look over to your other friend who didn’t return your glances. Perhaps she really had forgotten.

You let your imagination run wild for just a few moments, although the more that you did, the more it all just seemed preposterous. Maybe it was a confession letter, maybe she had written for you one of those poems like she had liked to do, maybe she had rather wanted to talk to you about something...say something that you wanted to say back…

“I’m going to stick around.” Ryunjin said suddenly with her hands on her hips. “Y/n, you’re welcome to stay too if you want. We don’t exactly have to go home yet since the sun’s still up.”

Your friends looked to you for your answer, to which you stammered out an, “O-okay…” The best that you could.

“See you later!!” They called after with their shoes only half-slid onto their feet.

You waved them off, but the farther that they walked away, the more the realization started to hit you that you were alone with her. The sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and you calmed it trying to think about anything else but the fact that now her attention was truly undivided upon you.

“You said that you wanted to show me something?”

Your friend nodded, and patted the grass beside her for you to join her. She gathered up the small bundle of cherries left behind and positioned them into her lap.

“I learned this trick a little bit ago and I wanted to show you!”

“A trick?”

She nodded, and plucked from one of the crimson berries a stem which she put directly into her mouth.

“What are you doing?!” On the surface, it didn’t seem like the most sanitary thing to do.

Ryunjin stifled a laugh and lightly hit you on the arm to chastise you. “Just wait a minute!”

You watched in your confusion as her face contorted a little, and her eyebrows twisted like she was thinking. Her cheeks puffed a little too, and you could tell that she was doing something with it in her mouth--it was only then when you realized that you had been intensely observing her mouth.

In your embarrassment you threw your eyes in the other direction, but it was no use one you heard her start to giggle at how flustered you had become.

“It’s okay, you’re supposed to look.” She assured you.

“What-what is it?”

“Annnnd done!” Your friend proclaimed proudly and you struggled to meet her again without feeling like your whole face and the tips of your ears were burning up.

Right on the pink of her tongue she had tied the stem into a tiny knot which she displayed proudly.

“You...did that with your tongue?”

“Mm-hm!”

Your hands reduced back to their clammy state, and they found the grass between your own folded legs to find something to do.

“That's...that’s pretty cool…”

“I know right?!”

Back came your friend's little dimples, and this time your chest started to feel like it was swelling with heat.

Stop looking, stop looking…

“I can teach you how to do it some day if you’d like.” Ryujin’s tone dropped lower, and more serious in the way that some had thought to be intimidating. To you, there was nothing more that could make you feel the beat of your own heart more obviously.

“Teach me? How??”

The question felt like a butterfly in your lips, fluttering and ticklish, light and uncertain. You met her eyes the best you could; even though you knew that there was nothing about her that you didn’t already know, or that was threatening.

Your friend tilted her head, inspecting you and the way that you could barely keep your glance away from her lips--stained just a little red from the cherries--then smiled.

“W-what? What is it? Why are you smiling?”

She sighed, and craned forward on one of her hands in the grass, bridging the distance between the two of you to caress down the side of your face, all the way to your jaw with the back of her fingers.

“You’re just too cute.”

“Hm?” Your chest threw itself up and down, and you could thinly feel the breath that tried to fill your lungs when she was this close.

“I just can’t handle it any more.”

“Me?”

Ryunjin nodded, softening her eyes until they were nearly closed, and rid the two of you of all space, leaning over just so you could feel the weight of her chest nearly pressing into yours. At first, she placed the lightest of kisses into you, so light that it barely brushed against your lips, but merely imprinted upon them. She leaned back, leaving you with the ghost of a feeling of her upon you. It felt a bit unfair how fleeting it was, and how she looked at you like that: smug as ever, but as blissful as she always was.

Your breaths tried to make sense of it all, if it had just happened, and what to think of it. As quick as it was, all you could want was to feel it again.

“Ryu--”

She cradled both sides of your face in hers, leaning in with more fervor and parting your lips with hers, leaving you to squeak from the sudden movement. You couldn’t figure out how to kiss back at first, or if you should hold her too. Your head felt like it was spinning in circles from your disbelief when you could taste the tiny tang of the sweet and sour cherries which lingered on her lips. She rubbed her thumbs into your cheeks, and angled you better to let her growing smile paint your own mouth from corner to corner.

At last, you were able to find a rhythm which suited you, and you kissed her right back. She giggled at your stroke of confidence and the vibrations made your whole body tingle. Your feet had surely fallen asleep where you had folded them beside you, but the numb feeling of them dissolved once her hands fell to your shoulder where she held to you tightly. The pressure from the tips of her fingers made you shiver, and you too smoothed down the pink shine of her hair.

The warm and ticklish feeling of her tongue grazed your lower lip where she changed her approach and deepened her kiss. The heat of tongues finally met in the middle testing and learning more of the other the closer that you became, and tiny airy gasps got stuck between both of your curiosity. In your lap, her hands found yours and they laced together and held tight; each digit wrapping the other and becoming one with the eagerness of her thumb rubbing little circles into the squishy parts of your hand.

After the heat of your passion started to melt, you found yourself hiding your giddy laughter the best you could once she started to peck at your lips over and over until you felt like she had kissed you so close to the brim that you would overflow.

“I said that you’re cute and I mean it!” She snuck the phrase in between a couple more kisses, eliciting you to fold up in your giddy embarrassment from the compliment.

Ryunjin pulled away, and popped another cherry into her mouth from the bundle, then threw her arms around your shoulders. You simply let your hands rest in her lap covered by the plaid of her skirt; shaking from the release of the endorphins and the adrenaline.

“Ryujin...I wanted to tell you that I’ve had a crush on you for a...really long time…” You shied, but she brought your chin back to look at her directly.

“Good. Me too.”

You couldn’t even process the combination of her words for them to make sense. White noise filled your ears, even though it should have been obvious from the way that she had kissed you like that.

“Oh! Here. I wanted to give this to you too. Something to remember me by.”

She reached for her bag, and pulled out a white-out pen from the front pocket. The Polaroid had faded into its full color, and she focused with her tongue peeking from her mouth as she wrote the message:

see you soon <3

- ryujinnie

Over her head in the picture, she doodled a few hearts, then she blew on the ink to dry it.

“For you!”

You took the picture with your hands still thoroughly shaking, and all you could utter was a “thanks” while you took in your friend looking as gorgeous as she always was. You knew then that you would treasure the image forever, and the day which it was taken.

“Who knows,” Ryujin started, and let her head fall to your shoulder where she nuzzled in, “This might be the last that you’ll see of my pink hair too.”

You turned the picture over, already sensing how it made your heart feel like it was aching sticky and sweet, just like the cherries.

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @dom--minnie @waterthemoon @pastelracha @mistakensilence @hotgorloikawa @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

564 notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 15.5k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, an extra lil tidbit of exhibitionism this time around though, thigh riding, choking/erotic asphyxiation/breathplay, degradation, dumbification, objectification - all consensual, but y’all wanted meandom jimin so i delivered, please read at your discretion - dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, punishment/discipline, footjob kinda (socks are worn, it’s not bare feet), aftercare as usual, mentions and implications of mxm

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and femboy friday

please note there are hyperlinks in this chapter ! they link to specific images that i thought might help you visualise some things ;) all links are safe

DAY NINETEEN

Your body clearly still isn’t right again by Friday morning, but it’s nothing a good breakfast can’t solve. Fortunately for you, Jin is more than happy to turn it into an occasion for a large, communal meal, and with barely any prompting, he’s whizzing away in the kitchen like a madman.

As you wait, you sip away at some vaguely herby-yet-fruity tea that he’d brewed you, watching his broad shoulders shift beneath his shirt when he chops vegetables, and his brows furrow in focus when he measures out spices.

“I don’t suppose I’d have time to- Nevermind,” Jin mutters at some point, carting a bladeful of crushed garlic from the chopping board to a simmering pan.

You sit up, ignoring the billow of steam from your mug. “Time to what?” He shakes his head, but you keep on him, watching his eyes dart to your figure leaning against the counter, and back at his work. With a gasp, you thrust the mug at him accusingly. “Were you going to put the moves on me?”

He scoffs low in his throat, but doesn’t respond.

“You were! Was making breakfast for me just a ruse, then?”

Jin turns around at that, lifting his brows and giving you a mock look of offense. “It was not! I’m just an opportunist, that’s all.” His shoulders sag. “But I don’t want the meat to burn, and it’s only time before the irresistible aroma of my delicious cooking reaches their doors and draws them down like rats to the pied piper.”

“Are you calling the others rats?” you ask with a giggle bubbling up your throat.

The cook pauses. “I suppose I’m not not calling them rats,” he allows, “but that’s not the point. I’m taking my time with you.” Perhaps the comment would be more sexy or romantic if he wasn’t using a kitchen knife to gesture.

Your interested piqued, you take a slow, thoughtful sip of the quickly-cooling dregs of tea. “You could always tell me,” you offer up, watching his head tilt in curiosity. “Tell me what you would’ve done to me if you weren’t worried about time. Or burning meat.”

His lips part slightly, a strange look in his eyes, like he’s appraising you. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” Though it’s probably meant to come off as a joke, his voice is too soft for it to carry. “If I tell you, I’ll have to change my plans for the prompt. Keep you on your toes?”

“Plans?” you question. “I thought you were an opportunist.”

Even though his back is faced to you, stirring some vegetables amongst the strips of meat, Jin speaks clearly, every word enunciated like it’s a mantra. “I’d kiss you ‘til you couldn’t breathe,” he begins, “and when you were overcome with need, I’d lift you on that counter and get to my knees. Eat you out like you were my last meal. Finally, if you still wanted more, I’d lie you down on the tile and fuck you well like you deserve.”

Your cheeks are hot, searing skin and throbbing pulse. Jin turns around to spoon the cooked stir-fry into a bowl on the countertop, looking far more unaffected than you. His eyes dart to you, a bemused and genuine smile quirking at his lips when he sees you flustered into silence. “It’s your turn,” he remarks in an easy drawl, placing the bowl beside you before he goes to the fridge to retrieve a carton of eggs. “What would you do if you weren’t worried about time?”

You take a breath, nostrils flaring at the rich mix of buttery vegetables and perfectly seasoned meat. “I’ll be honest with you, Jin,” you quip in a small, unobtrusive voice, “I’d probably get you to finish cooking first. This smells fucking incredible.”

Jin’s pealing laugh is punctuated by the cracking of an egg into the still-hot pan, and as the sizzling echoes through the room, you feel the air settle back into something lighter. Good timing, too, as it’s then that you hear footsteps behind you.

Before you can turn, your sides are crushed by a tight back-hug, arms wedged into your sides. “Feeling better?” a smooth voices asks, and you’re surprised to recognise it as Namjoon’s.

The academic had woken before you, so was fully coherent when you’d gotten up with a roiling stomach. With more than a tinge of concern, he’d let you shower first while he’d passed the message on to Jin, the only other awake member of the household. He now smelt fresh, like mint and citrus, and his skin still radiated heat from under his shirt.

He releases you just as quickly as he’d wrapped his arms around you, nothing more than a greeting, and Jin doesn’t even lift a brow at the affectionate display.

Before you can answer however, there’s a fourth party entering the room, a familiar sleepy drawl as Yoongi pads into the kitchen and beelines straight for the coffee machine. “Still sick?”

“Still?” Jin questions, narrowing his eyes in concern as he scrambles the eggs with the corner of a silicon spatula. “How long have you been sick?”

“Just since yesterday,” you deflect, “it’s probably nothing.”

Namjoon goes stiff beside you. “You don’t think it’s...you know? A problem with your birth control?”

Your eyes furrow in confusion before you process his words a moment later. “Oh, I- surely not? I have an implant, so it’s not like forgetting a pill or anything.” But the thought niggles in your mind, and you seek out Yoongi, who slumps against the counter while his drink brews. “It’s not like… morning sickness, is it?”

A disbelieving laugh leaves Yoongi’s lips. You gape at him, but he just waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t stress about it. You have an IUD, right? They’re 99% effective, and morning sickness generally starts around the six-week period. When did you get the IUD?”

You think back. “Once I cleared all my tests for the show, I guess? I think it was a couple days before we came here. Why?”

Yoongi seems to wake up very quickly after that, face falling slack. “Wait- A couple days? First of all, unless you were having unprotected six roughly two to three weeks before you came here, I highly doubt you have anything more than a slight cold or at the most, food poisoning-” Jin shoots the doctor an accusatory glare, which Yoongi ignores in favour of abandoning his coffee and rounding the corner. “But I think we have a different problem to worry about.”

You blink, your sick stomach returning as his concern starts getting to you. “I wasn’t having sex at all two to three weeks before the show. But what’s the problem?”

Yoongi looks stern, what you imagine he’d look like in his clinic giving serious medical advice to a patient. “Were you on your period when you got the implant?”

Reflexively, your cheeks heat at the personal question, hyper aware of Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi’s collective attention on you. “No. Why?”

“Fuck,” the doctor curses. “Come with me.”

“What’s going on?” You take his outstretched hand, heart racing as he leads you towards the front door, away from the other two who wait in confused and concerned silence. “What’s happening, Yoongi, you’re stressing me out?”

Yoongi’s fingers squeeze yours reassuringly as his face softens, holding the door open for you. “I’ll explain when we get to Sejin’s van, sweetheart, you’re fine.”

Though the sun has well and truly risen, it’s relatively cloudy, and the two of you aren’t even wearing anything more than house slippers and socks as you rush across the gravel towards the production van. There are lights on inside, and Yoongi doesn’t bother knocking before he’s bundling you and him inside.

The van is relatively cramped, some modest floor space with a single bed and then every other surface filled with monitors, paperwork, and a bank of screens displaying the cameras inside the Villa. Sejin, with his bulky headphones around his neck and his chair faced towards you, clearly must have seen you coming, as your sudden entry doesn’t catch him off-guard.

“How can I help yo-”

“Did nobody do their fucking research?” Yoongi spits immediately at him, giving no introduction or pleasantries. “I know there are speakers in the rooms, I know you heard us, so you better start explaining otherwise if you’re not lucky you’ll be facing a massive fucking lawsuit.”

Sejin sighs, his eyes darting to you in sympathy, before they return to Yoongi. “The requirement was that Y/n was on birth control by the time the show began. She was.”

“Yeah, well, not effective birth control,” Yoongi counters.

“The IUD Y/n got is 99% effective. She and all of you signed off that using additional birth control such as condoms beyond that was your choice. If you’ve chosen not to, that’s legally not our responsibility. The condoms have been made available.”

You furrow your brows, finding comfort in his hand tightly cradling yours. “Yoongi, I don’t understand…”

The doctor sighs, pinching his brow, and turns to you. “Y/n, when you got the IUD, did they not warn you about the seven-day window?”

You feel the blood drain from your face, the feeling that bad news is imminent. “What window? No, the lady didn’t say anything.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Yoongi curses, rubbing a palm over his face. “Well, listen up the two of you for a quick lesson in intra-uterine devices. If you aren’t currently on your period, they can take up to seven days to be considered effective. So while it’s highly unlikely that you have morning sickness right now, Y/n, I’m pretty fucking concerned for what may have happened during that first week.”

You bite down harshly on your lip as tears spring to your eyes, you naturally feel yourself wrapping your free arm over your stomach. “How do I- What do I do?”

Yoongi’s face softens at the action, and he turns to Sejin with a sigh. “You need to get an early detection pregnancy test, so that we can know for sure. Plenty of couples have unprotected sex without any pregnancies, so it’s not a definite, but we need to rule it out quickly so that Y/n can decide how she wishes to proceed. How quickly can you get one?”

Sejin, who had been looking greener and greener as Yoongi spoke, finally lets out a rushing breath, jumping up. “I’ll go down to a pharmacy now. Y/n; are you wanting to come with to do it sooner, or...?”

You sniff, shaking your head quickly. “Can you just bring it back here? I don’t want the others to think something’s wrong.”

Sejin nods stiffly, patting you once on the shoulder as he passes you. “I’m so sorry, Y/n, Yoongi’s right. We should’ve done more research. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Yoongi goes lax the second Sejin shuts the van door behind you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Either way, you’ll be just fine. You always have options,” he assures you, cheek pressed to your hair, rubbing your back.

Like your mind is desperate to find something to relieve your sudden crashing wave of stress, a hysterical laugh jumps out of your throat. “A fucking pregnancy scare,” you bemoan, “this is meant to be slutty Bachelorette but it’s just a slutty telenovela.”

Yoongi freezes when you begin laughing, but quickly falls in on the joke. “I even have a secret twin,” he jokes. “We better keep an eye out to make sure Jin doesn’t fake his death to steal the show’s budget.”

You sink further into his secure embrace, chuckling at his remark but quickly sobering up. “What am I gonna do, Yoongi? I can’t have a baby, especially not if it’s some- some mutant mix of seven different dads!”

“Sweetheart, please don’t stress yourself over it before you even know,” Yoongi pleads. “If it’s any consolation, that’s not how biology works at all. That would make for a riveting episode of Jeremy Kyle, though.”

You let out a groan. “God, how would they fit eight armchairs on the stage?”

Yoongi chuckles, smoothing a hand down your back before he gently breaks the hug. “Do you want to stay here, or go back inside and get something to eat? We don’t have to tell the others; Jin and Namjoon are mature enough not to ask pry, especially if there are others around.”

Your growling stomach answers the question for you.

Inside, Jin and Namjoon stay quiet just as Yoongi had anticipated, the former simply announcing that you were just in time for breakfast.

The table was set, most of them already seated, and you gape at the impressive display. The stir-fry from earlier, several individual small bowls of rice, a deep brown broth, scrambled eggs, and even some rice porridge fill the table.

Taehyung, Jungkook and Hoseok are on one half of the table, Jungkook looking like it physically pained him to restrain himself. Jin at one end, an empty space at the other, and the final long edge has Namjoon sitting beside two place for you and Yoongi. Just as you open your mouth to voice the absence, Jimin comes around the corner from the stairs and snags a place on the head of the table beside Taehyung.

You wish him a good morning as you sit, the smells of all the different dishes mingling in your nose the second your butt hits the seat. “Sorry for holding you all up,” you apologise, pasting a smile on your face even as your insides still wriggle in anxious tension. “Thank you for the meal, Jin.”

“Anytime,” he deflects, and like that word was a command, Jungkook bursts into action, shoveling food into his bowl like he’s on the verge of starvation. Jin sighs, reaching for the stirfry. “Quickly, before the vulture gets it all.”

Breakfast, once you force yourself to enjoy it and stay in the moment, is impeccably delicious and a lot of fun. As it turns out, Taehyung’s been making good use of his free schedule, and he regales the table with anecdotes of teaching Mango a number of ‘useful’ tricks like high-fiving, playing dead and turning in tight circles to beg for a treat. It’s while watching a video of the small white dog lolling out her tongue after Taehyung pretend to shoot her with his fingers shaped like a gun that there’s a sudden knock at the door.

Immediately, the thought of the pregnancy test comes to mind, and you’re rushing to the door before anyone else gets the chance.

What you don’t expect to open the door to, however, is a simple delivery worker, with a decently large box under one arm and a small electronic pad in the other. You stare blankly at the man as he consults the label on the box. “Looking for a Jung Hoseok,” he states gruffly, eyes barely reaching you from under a yellow cap branded with the company logo.

Your eyes widen, and you turn back, calling through to the kitchen. “Hobi, it’s for you!”

Rather than returning to your seat, you wait in rapt curiosity as Hoseok practically skips to the front door, smoothly signing off the package with an easy grin. Once he takes it and shuts the door behind the already-departing delivery man, you press against his shoulder to catch a glimpse at the label.

Though Hoseok tugs it away from you with a tut, and you aren’t able to read the packing sticker, you manage to take note of a dark red stamp inked heavily on the top left corner of the box. Two Rs, back-to-back with lush flicks on the outer downward strokes.

The dom parades the box around the foyer, making sure he’s visible to the rest of the guys at the kitchen table, before taking it upstairs with a spring to his step.

Taking a seat again, you let out a disbelieving whoosh of air. “I think it’s from his work,” you tell the others conspiratorially.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, his right cheek stuffed with meat he’s pushed to the side. “Like the Red Room? Kinky stuff?” he questions with a slight lisp, before chewing frantically and swallowing the food. “Are we allowed to do that?”

“It seems so,” Jimin murmurs, his eyes glinting with interest. “Just because we can’t go out doesn’t mean we can’t bring stuff to us, I suppose.”

Jin watches the two youngest with a strangely amused look on his face, twirling his chopsticks against the tabletop. “I’m surprised the two of you have kept quiet so long?”

Jungkook frowns. “Huh? Oh!” Suddenly, his and Taehyung’s faces light up in unison, glancing down at themselves.

Taehyung claps the table in excitement, staring at you, Yoongi and Jimin. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Friday,” Yoongi answers shortly. “Is it a public holiday or something? It doesn’t really matter if we’re still stuck in here, does it?”

“No, hyung,” Jungkook enthuses, “do none of you go on TikTok? It’s femboy Friday!”

Jimin furrows his brows in utter confusion. “It’s what?”

In their haste to stand up, Taehyung and Jungkook just about tip their chairs over, knocking the table with their knees. Your mouth drops as you see instead of sweatpants or jeans, both boys are sporting skirts.

“Femboy Friday,” Taehyung repeats with a shy smile as Jimin’s eyes rake shamelessly over his figure, “we’re saying fuck toxic masculinity and celebrating feminine boys and proving that clothes don’t have gender all in one! Namjoon, don’t you love it?”

Namjoon, to his credit, manages to nod dumbly, but it seems like that’s his only remaining executive function as his jaw hangs slack, eyes wide.

You can’t blame him, however. You can’t stop looking at the two either. Jungkook has a casual, loose black t-shirt tucked into a high waisted skirt that’s the same shade. Tight around his hips and flaring in an a-line down his thighs, silver chains and buckles give it an edgier look. As he does a twirl, you catch a glimpse of the definition the fabric gives his ass, everyone watching with rapt attention.

Taehyung, on the other hand, has gone for a sweeter look, with a white blouse tucked in to a dove grey plaid skirt that falls in perfectly ironed pleats. It’s relatively cool inside, so he’s shrugged on a cream-coloured jacket somewhat reminiscent of a school blazer. It’s clear by the tentative smile and blushed cheeks that he’s more shy about the getup than Jungkook is; the latter stands tall with folded arms, like he’s daring you to say something.

Once the rest of you at the table get over the initial shock, followed by the silent awe and appreciation, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, his lips parted in a shocked pout. “Why did nobody tell me?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?”

Jimin pushes his chair back, brows furrowed. “Where was this announced? I wasn’t informed.”

Taehyung sends him a boxy grin, his skirt swishing with the slightest movement. “It’s a TikTok thing, Minnie! You should do it with us!”

Jimin tilts his head with a thoughtful hum. “I’m not sure that I have any skirts in my suitcases. Some lingerie, sure, but not-”

“Oh, I just got mine out of the little costume wardrobe in the cupboard,” Taehyung explains easily, jumping forward to tug at Jimin’s arm. “I got a schoolgirl one, but I saw a cheerleader one in there too, come on!”

Your mouth hangs open as the two rush away, and Yoongi splutters, clapping a hand on the table to punctuate his shock. “Wait, sorry, I must’ve- wait,” he babbles, shaking his head in disbelief, “Jimin has lingerie? I’m making tomorrow Panties Saturday.”

Jungkook giggles. “Hyung, that’s not how it works! Femboy Friday is like, a thing, you know? Tae and I made a video earlier and it’s already doing numbers. If we all did it, I bet we’d go viral!”

Yoongi winces. “In my line of work, ‘viral’ is not a good thing.”

You turn to him with a grin. “Come on, Yoongi,” you entice warmly, “it would really cheer me up.”

Keeping your mind off other things is definitely a priority now, and by Yoongi’s reluctant sigh of defeat, you know he knows it. “I don’t want to wear a skirt,” he states, “my legs get cold easily. Is there any compromise of some sort? Anything else I can contribute to the cause?”

It seems you and Jungkook get the idea at the same time, judging by the way his eyes light up.

Before Yoongi can voice his concern, a triumphant clearing of a throat catches the room’s attention. Looking demure in his schoolgirl-esque getup, Taehyung stands tall in the doorway, glancing behind him. “Announcing,” he calls out more noisily than is needed, “the head cheerleader himself, Park Jimin!”

When Taehyung had mentioned cheerleader, and again now, you’d expected the typical red get-up, maybe a sweeter, more innocent look, but at this point in the show it’s about time you realise that Jimin never restricts himself to the obvious route, preferring to defy expectations.

Stepping into the gap Taehyung leaves for him and resting an elbow casually against the doorframe, Jimin looks like the type of student that would run the team with an iron fist. Or, judging by the rings laden on his hands, a silver one. It looks like the only things he’s taken from the cheerleader costume is a pleated pink skirt and some white thigh-high stockings, slipping slightly on the foyer tile. A simple but sexy Gucci shirt is tucked into the obscenely high waistband. Though the logo is gold, red and green, stamped onto the centre of the white fabric, it doesn’t clash with the skirt, instead making an addicting contrast. Shrugged on top, loose around his arms, is a black jacket with red and gold detailing on the shoulders. His gaze is piercing and superior, wearing the skirt like it’s armour as he slinks forward and sits in the chair with a smug look on his face.

Your mouth feels dry. Reminded of the last time he wore more typically feminine attire, it’s like the temperature of the room has increased by several degrees. “I think this is my new favourite day of the year,” you admit quietly, though it carries well enough in the awed room. “You guys look incredible.”

Jimin smirks. “Who’s next, then?”

Jungkook brightens up, wiping the corner of his lip surreptitiously. “Yoongi! Hyung, we need makeup; lots of it.”

Yoongi blanches. “You what now?”

Jin sits forward eagerly. “Wait; if we’re all making ourselves look pretty, I want in. I’ve always wanted to look like the rich hot mom from Parasite,” he divulges openly, turning to you. “Y/n, do you have some jewellery I can use?”

You grin. “I guess so. I know Jimin has some too, and I think Jungkookie? We can get you iced up. Ah, I feel like a little girl dressing up paper dolls. Let’s go get some supplies and we can make a day of it!”

You stand up too quickly, head lurching and stomach protesting, and like the crashing of a freezing wave, you feel dread wash over you. Before you can even dwell on it, Jin’s behind you, steadying you and holding you upright against him.

“Alright?” he asks in a low voice as the others begin to discuss a game plan.

You nod. “Just stood up too quickly.”

Jin’s mouth twists, unconvinced with your answer. “Let’s go upstairs and raid your closet. Take a breather.”

Leaving the others behind, you let the noise drop away as Jin carefully leads you up the stairs and to your room, sitting you carefully on your bed.

You collapse back against the mattress, feeling weak now that the pressure in your head is beginning to recede. Unsurprisingly, Jin doesn’t immediately beeline for the wardrobe or set of drawers. The springs adjust to a shift in weight. Jin’s hands finds one of yours, wrapping it between the two and squeezing it in reassurance. You’re smart enough to recognise this as the start of a Talk, capital letter intended.

“I’m worried about you,” he starts softly, his voice warm and comforting like cotton. “You don’t have to feel obligated to tell me a thing, and I know I’m no medical expert like Yoongichi, but I do know a lot about sex and relationships, and I know that surprises and accidents can happen. I’m here for you in any capacity you need, Y/n. Any at all.”

You swallow, staring at the slightly uneven, off-white paint on the ceiling. “I might be pregnant. It’s a big might but, you know…”

Jin’s hand tightens on yours briefly at that word, like a flexing of muscle, and relaxes again. “The not-knowing is still scary,” he finishes lightly.

“Yeah.” With a frown, you focus your awareness inwards, feeling your stomach rise and fall with your breath. “I don’t feel pregnant. But then- how the fuck would I know what that felt like?”

Jin is silent for a moment. “That isn’t really something I could help with, sadly.”

You huff out a humourless laugh through your nose. “It’s fine, Jin. I appreciate your concern. Sejin’s bringing back a test soon, hopefully, and then I can just… deal with it then.”

“Do you wanna talk about what those results would mean for you? What you feel about the possibility of-”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in sharply, sitting up so quickly that your vision spots. “I’m refusing to dwell on it until I have an answer.” You swallow down the nausea that rises in your throat the more you think about it, turning to face him. “If you wanna help, Jin, and I can’t thank you enough for wanting to- then just distract me.”

Jin pauses, nods, then a grin stretches across his face. “Deal.”

“This is ridiculous,” Hoseok huffs for the hundredth time, nails digging in to the arms of the chair he’s sat at. “It could’ve been anyone else but him. Y/n, why didn’t you help?”

You beam innocently, watching as an equally tight-lipped Jimin settles on a stool in front of the dom, a palette of brown and beige pressed powders and a small brush in hand. “Minnie’s way better than me at it, Hobi. Don’t you wanna look pretty?”

“I chose to pass this in the truth or dare game for a reason.” Hoseok tenses and recoils violently when Jimin’s hand lifts suddenly towards his face. “He’s going to make me look ugly on purpose,” he accuses.

Jimin scoffs, hand falling again. “Are you going to keep talking about me like I’m not here?”

“Ideally, yes.”

The blue-haired man tuts, lazily swirling the soft, short bristles over a particular shade, collecting more pigment. “It would be easier to make you look ugly, but I always relish a good challenge. Don’t worry; you’ll thank me when I’m done.”

“I most certainly will not,” Hoseok pouts stiffly. “Just get on with it, Peaches.”

Jimin’s hand overshoots and streaks a thick tan line on the strip of naked skin between his short skirt and thigh-high stockings. “Fuck. Keep your mouth shut, Jung.”

“You said you’re just doing the base stuff, why does my mouth need to be shut?” Hoseok complains.

Jimin levels him a glare. “Because if you open it, I’ll shove this down your throat and use you as storage.”

“Kinky,” Hoseok banters back, but settles into silence, only flinching slightly when Jimin raises the brush to his face again, dabbing delicately at Hoseok’s dainty nose.

Like some sort of makeshift salon - the second time all eight of you had gathered together to do so - the dining table has been transformed. At the head, Hoseok and Jimin glare at each other with less than a ruler’s length between them. Jungkook and Taehyung have descended on Yoongi like makeup kiosk employees, gushing over his smooth skin and graceful eye shape as the man protests noisily but otherwise seems very content being fussed over.

Jin is wearing enough necklaces, bracelets and earrings that he jingles with the slightest movement, of which there are many as he compulsively makes the eyeliner on his lids longer and thicker and longer again. The brief moments of silence that descend usually consist of him holding up the hand mirror and staring intensely at his reflection, sometimes holding it close enough that his breath fogs it up.

And finally, you and Namjoon are in between the three parties, the academic patiently holding his hands steady as you file away at his nails, shaping them a bit. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” you check in.

Namjoon immediately shakes his head, leaning in closer to watch your motions and the dust shavings that pile up on the folded paper towel beneath your hands. “I’ve always wanted to get my nails done,” he says, voice a casual low timbre.

That surprises you. “Really?” you ask, gently tugging on his hand so he can present his thumb for filing.

“Well,” he amends quickly, “always since yesterday.” At your bewildered laugh, he cracks a sheepish grin and explains. “One of the fans sent in something mentioning it when I visited the confessional booth at lunchtime. It’s sort of been on my mind since then.”

“I’m glad I can help you fulfil this lifelong dream of yours then, Joonie,” you remark with a smile of your own. It’s impossible not to cheer up in Namjoon’s company, your heart always feels lighter in his vicinity. “Are you wanting a colour? I don’t have many, sorry; Jin’s hogging the white and the pink.”

“It’s for a French tip,” Jin calls out imperiously, never one to miss his name mentioned in conversation. You know he’s chosen to help himself so that he can quietly keep an eye on you, and the thought makes you feel more secure and unburdened, appreciative of his attempts to keep your mind occupied. “It’s high class fashion, baby.”

“Maybe in 2010,” Jungkook retorts without glancing away from the blush he’s patting onto Yoongi’s cheeks. “These days it’s all about nail art, hyung.”

Namjoon pipes up. “Like drawing pictures and stuff on the nail? I think some of the girls in my class get those.” He gasps, wriggling in his seat as he turns to you with as much urgency as he can while his hands stay still in your loose grasp. “Do you think you could do that?”

You laugh self-consciously. “I’m not really an expert,” you begin, but Namjoon’s look of veiled disappointment is too much to bear, “but I could give you some nail stickers? They’re just like, love-hearts and stars and leaf patterns and stuff, but-”

With a gasp Namjoon leans forward. “Can I have the leaf ones?” After receiving your confirmation, his knee jiggles under the table in suppressed excitement as you pick up a bottle of nude base coat, the colour of milky tea with a hint of pink to warm it up a bit. You’d used it many a time when you just wanted something plain, and it’ll serve you well today as a blank canvas. Namjoon holds his breath as you uncap it and hold up his pinky finger, carefully coating the smallest fingernail in the glossy polish.

His hands are warm, pliant under your grasp. As he goes quiet to let you focus, the sounds of the rest of the room fill in the vacuum.

“You get that away from my eyes,” Yoongi hisses at one point, making his two stylists tut in reproach.

“It’s just an eyelash curler, hyung,” Taehyung defends, Jungkook providing a resounding ‘yeah!’ in the background. “People use them all the time, it doesn’t hurt.”

“People wax and get tattoos and piercings all the time, Taehyung, and those are still painful. You will not be using that medieval torture device on any part of me.”

Taehyung huffs, and you hear a petulant clank as he drops it back onto the table. “Enjoy your boring straight lashes then, Min Yoongi.”

“I will, actually,” he retorts automatically. “Are you almost done? I feel like I’ve dunked my face in cake flour.”

“Not even close,” Jungkook responds cheerily. “Now it’s time for the fun part though, don’t worry.”

“And what’s the fun part?”

A familiar sticky thwack echoes through the room. “Lip gloss,” he declares with a pleased voice.

Just as Yoongi lets out a pitiful groan, Hoseok gasps from the other end of the table. “Jimin,” he squawks in offense, “why aren’t you giving me lip gloss?”

Jimin just about growls in response. “I said not to move,” he chastises, “now you’ve gone and fucked up the smokey eye, so thanks a lot.”

“I believe you’re the one that fucked up, Jimin,” Hoseok answers haughtily, “a poor worker blames his tools.”

“If you’re calling yourself a tool, I’d be inclined to agree,” Jimin responds, his tone clipped in a way that means he’s focussed. “Okay, that’s looking better. And we’re not doing lip gloss, it looks tacky.”

Finished with the bottom layer on both of Namjoon’s hands, you glance up in just enough time to see Jungkook gasp and turn Yoongi around violently, presenting him like a piece of evidence in court.

Jimin appraises him silently, Yoongi blinking and waiting for his opinion. Taehyung and Jungkook have done a great job, giving him delicate hints of pink shadow just under the outer corners of his eyes, short swoops of eyeliner and baby pink lips coated with a thick sheen of gloss reflecting the light. With an indignant tut, Jimin turns back to Hoseok. “It looks tacky unless you’re Yoongi,” he corrects.

Yoongi seems more content than Hoseok with the answer, and steals Jin’s mirror to inspect himself. He tilts it every which way, mouth slowly opening. “I do look kinda hot, don’t I?”

“See?” Jungkook cheers with a small pump of his fist. “We did good, right? Oh. Jin-hyung, do you need the mirror back? Wait, let us help you! We come highly recommended, Taehyung and I.”

Tuning out the others, you turn back to Namjoon. “Okay, let’s put on some stickers.”

It takes the rest of the morning for everyone to finish up, but none of you seem in a rush. Yoongi, routinely smacking his lips together to feel the texture of the gloss, starts getting different dishes together to make some lunch, and his two little helpers go over to make Jin look like the tiger mom of his dreams. Jimin can’t hide his pride at how well Hoseok’s smokey eye and peachy lip turn out, and Hoseok can’t help but admit that he likes it. Namjoon covers each nail in a thoughtfully selected and arranged sticker, and keeps cooing over them as you cover them in a clear top coat.

Finally, when all of your boys are prettied up and you’re just about to tuck in to lunch, there’s a knock at the door.

You rush up to answer, and this time it is in fact Sejin. He looks harried, chest heaving like he rushed to get here, and before you can even greet him he’s thrusting a brown paper bag towards you.

“Traffic,” he gasps out, “I’m so sorry about the wait, there was a hold-up. I got you it,” he murmurs, before raising his voice so the others - who are no doubt listening in with curiosity - can hear, “so I got you the ginger pills for your stomach, and then just some vitamins that the lady at the counter told me were good for immune systems. Take it easy. Send me a text if you need anything, or if you don’t need anything.”

His voice sounds so awash with concern, his eyes softened in sympathy even as he looks out of breath from getting back here as quickly as possible, that you throw yourself at his chest and wrap your arms around him in a quick hug. He stays frozen for a moment, then pats your back and squeezes your shoulders fondly once you pull away. “Thanks, Sejin,” you say with a smile, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

When you shut the door lightly behind him and poke your head into the main room, where everyone’s acting like they were’t eavesdropping (Jungkook and Taehyung are thumb-wrestling, Jimin has grabbed Namjoon’s hand to inquire about the little leaf stickers, Hoseok’s turned his face a full one hundred and eighty degrees from you, staring wistfully out the window, and Jin and Yoongi share a look). “I’m just going to duck upstairs and take some of the ginger pills and the vitamins he got me, I won’t be long. You can start without me; don’t let it get cold.”

Though you try and stay calm, when you shut yourself in your bathroom, your hands are trembling. The thin cardboard box tears as you open it, a thick folded wad of instructions and warnings falling out. The longer you take, the more suspicious it is, so you just scan over them to get a general idea. Piss on a stick, you think to yourself, how hard can it be?

So nervous that your muscles lock up, it’s hard enough to actually do even that, but once you’re done, you wash your hands and the handle of the small white stick, and wait. Unable to look, you leave it on the counter and sit on the toilet seat lid, feeling your heart race a million miles a minute. Breathe.

A knock on the door makes you startle violently, a hand instinctively rising up to press against your chest. With a racing heart, you call out to ask who it is.

“It’s us,” Yoongi’s voice echoes through the door. “Me and hyung, I mean. Is it the- the test, sweetheart?”

Opening the door, you let the two men in with a silent nod, returning to your stoop. “Just waiting,” you explain when they glance at the plastic stick on the counter. Your voice has never felt so small and distant to you. It makes you want to curl into yourself and disappear.

Yoongi hovers near the test, checking his watch, but Jin immediately comes over to you, smoothing your hair back and pressing your head and shoulders against his torso. You slump into him, into the embrace that always reassures you. Jin smells still like his cooking, and breathing it in gives you some small comfort.

The three of you don’t speak. There’s nothing to say; not yet, not when you still don’t know. Yoongi stands by the test like a guard dog, not looking himself, and Jin rubs your back and strokes your hair, holding you close.

After what feels like a cold eternity, Yoongi consults with his watch again and clears his throat lightly. “Do you want to come and check, sweetheart?”

You get the thought of you leaving Jin’s hold, of going up there and taking the piece of plastic and seeing two blue lines, and you shake your head, pressing yourself more firmly against Jin. “Can you just… Can you check it and tell me?”

As Yoongi turns to pick it up, you feel yourself tense. Two blue lines, your mind chants over and over, and even as you’re terrified you’re going to somehow conjure that result by thinking too hard about it, you can’t stop.

The plastic rattles against the counter, and you’re watching his face, eyes narrowed on his expression with laser focus. He picks it up, looks at the result, and the slightest exhale gives him away. A tiny puff of breath, his shoulders dropping an inch and the line between his brows smoothing out. Your heart soars in raw relief even before he confirms, “you’re not pregnant, Y/n.”

Even though you’re happy, so grateful of fate working in your favour, the underlying fear of the past few hours comes crashing down on you like a tsunami, and you burst into tears, your whole body shivering and juddering with sobs that you muffle against the soft fabric and solid chest you’re leaning on.

“Hey, hey,” Jin’s voice calls to you in a soothing croon, “you’re okay, baby, you’re fine. You’re safe.”

The reassurance only makes you wail harder, feeling so unburdened, so unanchored, like you could float away were it not for your grip on his sleeves. He rocks you gently, back and forth as his fingers card through your hair and cradle your back. It’s not until you hear the hollow clatter of the test going in the trash can that you feel the ghost of your fear and worry leave you, and finally you go slack against him, tears dried up.

As you sit up and dab at your eyes, Yoongi passes you a tissue to properly clean yourself up and Jin pats your hair back down. “Sorry,” you pipe up with a croaky voice, “I got your shirt messy.”

Jin smiles softly and offers you a hand to stand with. “Never you mind that, young lady.” He’s quite a sight to see now; even with a soft expression, his eyeliner is sharper than the point of a knife and the imperious dark red of his lips makes anything less than a grin look pouty and dramatic. “Do you want us to let the others know you’re feeling under the weather? I can bring some food up here for you? Are you too cold? Too hot?” You giggle tearily as he lays his hand across your forehead and pinches your cheeks lightly, clucking in worry.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “I’ll take ten minutes or so to calm down a bit and then I’ll join you all. Can you just tell them I’m on the phone with a friend or something? I won’t be long.”

Jin furrows his brows. “Are you sure? If you need anything, I’m here for-”

“Hyung,” Yoongi chides gently, “let’s give her a breather.”

By the way Jin sucks in a deep breath and nods stiffly, it might be him that needs the breather. Yoongi drags him away as you thank them, and soon enough you’re once again alone in the bathroom.

Stumbling on weak legs to your bed, you all but collapse onto it, feeling totally devoid of energy. You just need a moment to recharge, that’s all. Just need a moment to acknowledge that no, there isn’t a life form inside you right now, and yes, everything can go back to normal.

And if it’s well over ten minutes by the time you make it back downstairs to reheat your portion of lunch, no one mentions it.

The afternoons are often a lazy affair in the Villa. Unless you’re off getting fucked (not uncommon, of course) you tend to hang around in the lounge with whoever’s in the mood for socialising, and put something on TV.

You’re starting to realise that perhaps there are better uses of your time, which is why when Namjoon asks how Jimin got so good at makeup, you enthusiastically accept Jimin’s generous offer to be his model.

Once again your communal area gets renovated into a mini studio fit for purpose. Two of the couches are pulled closer together, a tight arrow shape around the coffee table corner. As is often the case, Yoongi and Jin are noticeably absent, with Namjoon and Jungkook on one sofa, leaning forward in their eagerness, and Taehyung and Hoseok on the other, the younger looking like he’s just about to fall asleep on Hoseok’s shoulder.

You perch on the edge of the table between them with nervous anticipation as Jimin darts upstairs to collect his tools. “How come you’re wanting to learn, Namjoon?” you ask lightly.

The academic scratches his neck lightly, knee bumping against Jungkook’s as he shifts in place. “It’s interesting, and I love learning new things,” he states, his voice lilting up at the end.

Jungkook nudges his elbow into Namjoon’s side. “He thinks Jimin’s focusing face is hot.”

“I did not say that!” Namjoon insists, but the violent blush in his cheeks betrays him. “I enjoy watching, that’s all.”

“I’m sure you do, hyung, I’m sure you do,” Jungkook commiserates with a wise and somewhat sarcastic nod, but before Namjoon has any further chance to defend himself, you hear the thud of socked feet coming down the stairs.

Jimin’s skirt flounces around his thighs with every step as he rushes back in, a heavy-looking back held against his chest. He pauses in front of you, breathing slightly elevated. “Up you get,” he instructs.

You do so without thinking, but then stand awkwardly beside the coffee table as he takes your spot and dumps the makeup bag beside him. “Where do I sit?” you ask hesitantly, but Jimin just pats his thigh wordlessly.

Glancing out at the four onlookers, you suck in a breath and place yourself delicately on his lap, perpendicular so that your shoulder is against his chest and you’re facing Namjoon. Clearly it wasn’t what he was after, as Jimin clicks his tongue with a huff and grabs you under the knee, parting your legs so that you’re facing him, balanced on a single, stocking-clad thigh.

Your eyes widen as you’re suddenly face-to-face with him as he raises a brow at you. “Namjoon wants to learn, little mouse,” Jimin instructs, “so you’re going to be nice and still for me, right?”

You’re hyper aware of the pressure of his corded thigh against your core, even through your loose cotton shorts, and the four sets of eyes on you that are just outside your peripheral. “Yes, Jimin.”

His eyes darken in disapproval, fingers tightening on your knee. “A good doll doesn’t make any noise either,” he chastises. “Pinch me if you want out, otherwise stay still and be quiet.”

You swallow, recognising his introduction of a non-verbal safeword. But there are others watching, and he was just meant to be doing your makeup. Your eyes dart to risk a glance at the others, blurry in the very corner of your eye. They’ve gone dead still, Jungkook and Namjoon still leaned inwards towards you, Taehyung close to Hoseok but definitely no longer napping. You aren’t allowed to nod or say yes, so you give your lack of response as confirmation.

Jimin lets out a short hum and drops his gaze from you, unzipping the makeup bag. “Lots of steps in makeup have to do with personal preference,” he explains, glass, metal and plastic clattering together as he draws out a bottle. “But starting with primer is like prepping a canvas, so it’s always a solid first step.”

For a moment you’re confused, before you recall that Jimin’s teaching this all to Namjoon. He glances at the academic briefly, giving you a glimpse of his graceful side profile before he turns back and clicks open a narrow tube, piping some of the creamy formula on the back of his hand. When he dips a clean beauty blender into it, collecting it on the narrower end, you notice it glistens just slightly.

“I ran this under the tap upstairs to get it damp,” Jimin continues, and you fight the urge to flinch when you feel it begin to dab along your nose, spreading out to your cheeks. “These blenders are good because the sponginess is a good texture to make everything smooth, but they’re so absorbent that if they’re dry they’ll suck up half the product. If they’re a little damp, you won’t need as much.”

You can’t bring yourself to meet Jimin’s gaze, or even lift your eyes to his face at all, far too intimidated by the proximity. Instead, you watch the rhythmic way his chest rises and falls, rippling the Gucci logo on his white shirt. The afternoon had brought a low, hot sun, and all of you had stripped off any outer layers. Jimin was no different, ditching the jacket, and you can just make out his upper arms flexing past the short sleeves before the blender gets a little too close to your eyes, and you snap them closed.

“Once you’ve done that, I’d go in with a foundation…” Jimin lets out a small sigh through his nose. “This shade won’t really match exactly, but it’ll do. Finding the perfect shade is like finding a pair of shoes that fit just right, it can take ages but once you’ve got it, you’ve got it. Unless you go and get a tan.”

Slowly you begin tuning Jimin’s voice from coherent sentences into one smooth, lulling river. Soft whispers of brushes and cool swipes of liquid make your skin tingle, and the solid, unmoving presence of his thigh between yours anchors you in the moment.

After every step, or whenever there’s a specific technique to show off, you feel the searing heat of his fingers on you, turning your head to the side with a tight grip on your chin, displaying you to the others. Every time, that heat moves downward, pooling in your core.

“Eyes open,” a voice rings out, short with impatience.

Upon following his command, you focus on his face with a few blinks, just in time to see him come at your eyes with a narrow, pointed brush. Instinctively jerking away, you gasp when the movement causes you to grind against him slightly, pleasure blooming at the friction.

With an annoyed curl of his lip, Jimin uses the hand not holding the brush to grab your chin again, fingernails digging in and pulling you closer. “Stay still,” he hisses, and lets go after you freeze into place again.

This time, when he brings the brush back up, it goes not onto your eyes, but above onto your brows, and you remain obediently motionless as you feel the stiff brush press on something powderlike. As he explains its purpose and use to Namjoon, however - the other three watching just as intently - you don’t listen to his words, instead directing all your focus downwards.

If you move, just slightly, the smallest shift of your pelvis, you can press your clothed clit against the strip of bare skin between his skirt hem and the stockings, where the flesh is stiff with tensed muscle. You watch his face as closely as you dare, wary of a reaction, but there’s none.

It’s not much, and it’s not nearly enough, but you sate yourself on that dull pleasure as he finishes your brows, and begins working on some eyeshadow. He takes longer here, dipping into different shades with pretty names that you forget the second you hear them, because it’s riskier now, with your eyes closed again. You can’t see if he’s aware of your minute motions, but you’re too desperate to stop.

When there’s suddenly a sharp poke on your lid, your instinct takes over and you jerk back with a gasped yelp.

Jimin growls, and the noise makes you open your eyes in alarm. He’s holding a jet black eyeliner wand, and his face is tense, displeased. You even open your mouth to apologise, before quickly thinking better of it.

“Sorry for the technical difficulties, gentlemen,” Jimin states to the others stiffly. “Give me a moment to sort out my equipment.”

A rush of heat floods your core at the dismissive way he refers to you, and when you feel his hand tighten - not on your jaw, but on your throat itself - you melt into his grasp. The cold bands of his rings dig into the flesh as he inflicts just enough pressure to make your heart race.

Still able to breathe comfortably, just with that physical reminder of his strength and his control, you go pliant in his hold, eyes fluttering before they naturally settle shut.

“There we go,” Jimin murmurs, “now let me continue.”

Jimin uses your cheekbones to prop his hand up as he paints a delicate stroke of black across the bottom of each eyelid, his voice like honey as he walks Namjoon through every last detail.

The weak rutting had barely given you any relief before, but now with Jimin’s hand on your throat, it’s not even enough to keep you sane. Your brain knows there are four other people trying to watch the processes of applying makeup, but that logical part is being steadily overridden with primal need, a need that’s going unfulfilled.

Jimin has to remove his hand to show you off, then to turn your head back and reach for something else, the sticky sound of it opening, and the wet bristles that you can only just feel against the edge of your eyelids tells you it’s mascara.

“Look up,” Jimin commands shortly, tapping your temple. You follow command and glance up, curling your fingers into your own thighs to stop yourself from flinching when the wand comes so close to your eyes.

When he shows off his work this time, your eyes are finally open again, and so you find yourself facing the others properly. Namjoon’s doing a decent job of pretending he’s actually interested in the makeup, but his eyes spend too much time on the space between your legs, and Jimin’s face to be really focused. Jungkook’s got his feet up on the couch, with an arm shoved in front of his crotch, rocking against it to relieve some pressure.

On the slightly less affected couch, Hoseok sits back with his gaze hooded as he stares you down. Taehyung, shoulder-to-shoulder with the dom, has a swollen bottom lip pinned tightly under his front teeth. You don’t doubt he wishes nothing more than to be between you and Jimin right now.

Jimin pulls you back too soon, and as he retrieves the familiar short, round casing of a tube of lipstick, you can’t hold back any longer. No longer worried about accidentally being stabbed in the eye, you keep your face still but tighten your thighs around his, grinding your core against him.

You know you aren’t being subtle, but you’re beyond caring, just needing something to relieve the desire boiling over inside you.

As he uncaps the lipstick - a deep wine red that looks ridiculously expensive - he sends you a warning glare. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he chastises in a low tone.

You choose to ignore him, propping your hands on the top of his thigh, over the soft pleats of his skirt, to get better leverage, moaning between closed lips at the feeling.

“That’s disappointing,” Jimin admits, and as your heart begins to sink at his tone, his free hand lifts up once more to wrap around your neck.

This time, instead of his grip being an implication of consequence, he starts to tighten and tighten and tighten, slowly and steadily. You feel the pressure on the sides of your throat, where his fingers are, not on your voicebox, and it makes you start to feel a little hazy. He keeps going as you feel the first brush of lipstick against your parted lower lip, and there’s a heat in your face, a slight tightness. His fingers curl in more, just slight changes every time, but your brows furrow at the slight pain, and without you even reaching out to pinch him, he’s eased back to that sugar-sweet lightheadedness.

It’s easier to let your eyes flutter - not open but not quite closed either - as your lips are coated in red, hand moving with just as much case as his other. Although you can breathe, it’s thin, and you feel yourself go lax at the slight deprivation, like you’re floating above yourself. Once the cap of the lipstick clicks, his grips falls away, and you instinctively suck in a breath, your exhale sounding closer to a pleasured sigh.

You begin to sink forward, seeking out more contact as the endorphins of an oxygen rush lift you higher. Jimin hums, the lipstick clattering noisily on the coffee table as he grasps your shoulders and turns you slightly, so that you don’t faceplant into his chest. A strong hand keeps your chin up, air flowing so easily that you feel drunk on it, strength returning to your limbs.

“Isn’t my doll so pretty, Namjoon?” Jimin asks sweetly, before he ducks in and nips sharply at your earlobe, voice lowering to whisper harshly in your ear. “I only gave you two very easy, very simple commands. Be quiet and be still. And yet that’s seemingly too much to ask of you. I have no qualms about punishing you in front of everyone, little mouse. You’ve used up all your chances. If you make a single noise or move out of turn, I’ll discipline you right here without mercy.” His fingers are featherlight, tender as they turn you back to face him, pressing your foreheads together. His eyes dance in mirth, a smile playing on his lips. “Is that understood?”

You only just manage to prevent yourself from answering or nodding automatically.

Jimin laughs through his nose at the way your lips twitch, leaning back just a few inches. “That was mean of me, wasn’t it?” His smile falls in a second. “Then again, I think I’ve been going too easy on you lately. And I don’t make mistakes a second time.”

Blessedly, all he has left are delicate dustings of blush and highlighter, and some setting spray. He moves your face this way and that, tells you when to open your eyes and when to close them, and although it feels like your insides are vibrating hopelessly, you manage to keep still and silent, a perfect doll for him.

“All done.” When Jimin says those two magic words, and gives you permission to move again, you feel relief crash down on you, making your knees weak as you get up off him and collapse onto the couch in the gap between Jungkook and Namjoon.

Your relief is short-lived. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

You blink up at Jimin. “Um… You said we’re done.”

“The makeup is,” Jimin corrects, looking unbelievably intimidating even in a white t-shirt and pink cheerleading skirt. “We are not. You still deliberately disobeyed be, little mouse. You’re in trouble.”

On either side of you, Jungkook and Namjoon retreat, ducking out of Jimin’s line of sight so they can look on from the sidelines. You frown at him. “But I didn’t do it again, and you said you wouldn’t do it if I-”

“Goodness, were you so desperate that you stopped listening entirely? I said I wouldn’t discipline you in front of the others, Y/n. You haven’t earned absolution. You just get the dignity of privacy when I punish you. Go up to my room; now.”

There’s no protesting his command. There’s a safeword, or there’s obedience, and the choice is easy. You feel positively electric with arousal, excited at the concept of Jimin no longer going easy on you, and what that might entail.

You jump up, spare one glance at the four men that remain, open-mouthed on the couch, and make your way towards the stairs, Jungkook’s whines about ‘missing out’ fading away with distance.

Jimin’s room is relatively tidy, but it’s not the neatly made bed or overflowing tabletop of neatly arranged jewellery, watches and belts that catch your attention. At the foot of his bed, a heavy wooden armoire with his initials engraved is unable to ignore, a constant reminder of just how fucked you were. You didn’t know half the things he had in there, had only really experienced a few of them yourself, but something tells you that digging around inside it while you wait will just get you in more trouble; although you aren’t opposed to acting up for some extra attention, you’re in new territory with Jimin right now, and you want to get a feel for what you’re in for before you make things worse for yourself.

You’re proven right very quickly, when the door creaks behind you. “At least you know how to wait patiently,” Jimin’s voice calls in a sultry whisper. Turning around to face him, you can’t help but gulp at the glimmer in his eyes and the smirk that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That lipstick shade looks so beautiful on you, little mouse. Mind if I try it on?”

With two smooth steps, he’s upon you, a hand winding around the nape of your neck and the other keeping your chin steady as he presses his lips to yours, forceful enough that your teeth begin to dig in to the delicate flesh. You exhale roughly through your nose, a whimper stuck in your throat at the sudden contact. As plush as his lips are, he kisses you with a ferocity and coldness that has your mind reeling.

When he pulls away, your eyes flutter weakly open, and that whimper makes its way to the surface. He looks like sin personified, that deep blue hair low across his brow, exposing a narrow triangle of his forehead, a smokey eye and those lips of his, stained with red. Of course it’s not a neat application - you imagine yours must be even more ruined - but the messy smears of colour across the middle of his mouth just serve to make him look wilder, a creature of lust and raw desire. “Jimin,” you say, voice hushed like a prayer.

His eyes narrow minutely. “Did I say you could speak? On your knees, shorts and shirt off.”

You follow without hesitation, just about scratching yourself in the haste to remove your outer layer of clothing. Though your ribs practically vibrate with how fast your heart races, your skin still prickes into goosebumps now that all you wear are your panties and a bra. The fibres of the carpet, though soft, scratch against the bare skin of your knees and shins as need makes your nerves extra sensitive. You look up at him and shiver at the sight this position awards you.

You haven’t specifically drooled over his thighs before, but now that they’re bared to you, directly in your line of sight, you feel yourself grow wetter. You knew he still had the corded strength of a dancer, too, and the thought of him using that power to fuck you into the floor makes you seek out some friction, crotch pressed to your heels and rocking against them. From this angle, you can’t see up his skirt, but the fabric is thin enough to expose the bulge of his cock beneath it. Looking up further, craning your neck to see his face, you appreciate how even from below, he has a jaw that could cut diamonds - especially when he’s clenching it, like now.

Your eyes widen, taking in the tensed look of disapproval he’s giving you. With a start, you realise your hips are still rocking back and forth absentmindedly, and you freeze with an apologetic whine.

His hand comes down to stroke back your hair, deceptively lightly compared to iron lines of his face. “Oh, doll, you really can’t follow any basic commands, can you? So needy for cock that you can’t even think?” He lets out a teasing laugh, the sound like windchimes. Slowly, he trails a single finger down the side of your face, then diverts inwards along your cheekbone and pushes down against the seam of your lips, making you naturally part them. “Such a mess already,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Shall we see how much more that lipstick of yours will hold up? See how long it takes you to become just a mindless little doll for me to play with, hm? Maybe you’d behave then.”

Your eyes plead with him as he toys with your lips lazily, running that finger inside, collecting your saliva to smear it over, your cheeks a hazy red at the humiliation. It only serves to make you needier, though, as you wait for him to do something, to use you like you know he will, and judging by the grin on his face as he messes you up, you know he’s well aware of his effect on you. But good dolls don’t talk, and they don’t move on your own, and so Jimin makes you sit and wait, letting him take his time.

When he finally pulls his finger away and wipes the drool - tinged pink with the dislodged lipstick pigment - on your cheek, you could groan in relief, but he still seems in no hurry, lazily toying with the hem of his skirt as he tilts his head to the side like he’s appraising you. “Look at you, trying so hard to follow the rules,” he coos, “did you not like me calling you cockdumb, little mouse?”

You bite down on the inside of your lip to mask another whine, blinking up at him as it takes all of your effort not to grind against your heels. You can’t answer, but it seems your response was explanation enough.

“Oh, so that’s it…” Jimin grins, eyes alight with the condescending mirth that makes you feel so deliciously small beneath him. “You like it a little too much, huh? I should’ve known. I’ve been spoiling you; Tae too. In fact, I bet every guy in this house has spoilt you rotten, and now the only thing on your mind is when you’ll next get some cock..” You swallow at the way he slowly begins lifting his skirt, knuckles grazing on the skin of his thighs as more pale golden flesh is revealed. His voice is sultry, addictive. “Rest that pretty little mind of yours, little mouse, you don’t have to think about a thing. Just open your mouth and be a good doll for me, and I’ll give you what you need.”

You widen your jaw and let your tongue rest on your lower lip before he’s even bared himself to you, and he chuckles as he holds the skirt to his lower abdomen, showing off the cotton-candy pink underwear he’s donning. The satin-like fabric is so narrow across his hips and between his legs that it’s clearly not meant to contain his cock, but he doesn’t seem bothered about the precarious way the weeping tip pokes out of the skinny waistband. There’s not much time to dwell on it, or even admire it, however, because he quickly reaches in with his free hand and pushes them down, letting his cock bob free.

Your eyes grow lidded with desire as he holds himself at the base with three fingers and taps the head against your awaiting tongue teasingly, drool quickly pooling there.

Jimin grins at your needy reaction. “I’d love to tie your hands back and fuck your mouth, but I want them to be free if you need to use them,” he states lowly, before shrugging, “maybe next time. For now; open up.”

You stretch your mouth even wider, wanting to obey his every command, and feel his cock begin to fill it, the salty tang of his precum sliding over your tongue. Focusing on breathing through your nose, you fight the urge to gag. Though he takes his time, and certainly isn’t as large as some of the other members of the house, he hasn’t have any qualms about burying himself to the hilt, making your eyes tear up.

“Fuck, just like that,” Jimin curses, and your heart sings with the praise even as you struggle not to choke around the intrusion in your throat. Unsure if he wants you to properly suck him off, but knowing the last thing you should do is move without permission, you just keep your jaw as wide as possible, lips pulled back slightly to cover your teeth. As he draws back with a pleasured sigh before beginning his slow drive back in, you think Jimin’s more than happy with what he’s getting.

He takes his time, but throat isn’t exactly something that adjusts like your pussy would, and so it doesn’t get any easier to stop your gag reflex from kicking in when you feel him past the base of your tongue. You can breathe through your nose, but there are so many things to keep track of that you don’t get quite enough air to your lungs, trying to make every inhale you do manage as deep as you can.

His groans and breathy praises are enough to keep your nerves on a livewire, so turned on you could cry - and, in fact, your eyes tear up as he gently but thoroughly fucks your throat, so that when you glance up at him, he’s blurry in your affected vision. That doesn’t stop you from knowing that he’s grinning, because you can hear it in the way he assures you that you’re being “so perfect, little mouse; just drunk on cock, aren’t you?”

You groan around him in your mouth, and feel a spot of wetness on your sternum, that you don’t doubt is your drool beginning to spill over. Even as your cheeks flush with humiliation, he doesn’t tell you to suck him off, or do anything but leave your mouth wide open, and so you stare up at him with tears in your eyes and remain obediently still.

It could be a minute, it could be ten, but at one point, when your nose is pressed to the waistband of Jimin’s skirt and his hand is gently cupping the back of your head to hold you there, you become aware of a foreign presence between your legs.

It takes you a moment to recognise it, that probing pressure that quickly seeks out your clothed core, but you blink away the sheen from your eyes and and close your thighs just enough to feel the outline, and it’s the textured fabric against your skin and the teasing way he wets his lips that helps you make the connection. The object moves again, a stiff drag right over your clit, and the sudden burst of pleasure makes you choke around him, spit running down your chest now. He’s rubbing his foot against you, the foot that’s covered in pretty white thigh-high stockings.

Jimin pulls out to give you a moment to cough and splutter, and thankfully doesn’t call you out on the involuntary breaking of the rules, but you barely manage to suck in two breaths before he’s clicking his tongue at you, telling you your brief respite is over. You clear your aching throat one last time and spread your mouth wide open again, but Jimin just hums and pats your cheek. “Could my doll handle one more command? You’re doing so good, taking me well like I knew you would.”

You nod straight away before freezing at your unintentional mistake. The blue-haired man just lets out a dark chuckle, pulling his foot away. This time, you at least manage to prevent a whine, biting hard on the inside of your cheek at the loss.

“That was mean of me, wasn’t it? I understand, little mouse,” he coos, crouching in front of you so that you’re at eye-level, “I do. It must be hard for you to remember all these pesky rules and orders, isn’t that right?”

His gentle croon of sympathy cracks you once again, your need to please overriding your better judgement, and you nod again.

This time, he openly laughs, making you shiver as he runs a line through the spit that’s fallen between your breasts. “Let me give you a deal, then,” he begins, voice dripping with apparent sympathy, “I’ll take away those rules. I’ll let you move, and moan, and say my name, but only if you promise that it’s because you’re too cockdumb to follow them, hm? Can you say that for me?”

You swallow, opening your mouth to take a heaving breath. What’s worse; not being able to move, or having to admit that you’re so desperate that you can’t stay still? “I’m just c-cockdumb, Jiminnie, can’t think about anything else but feeling you inside me,” you confess, and as he strokes back your hair and smiles at you like a prized pet or small child, something beloved but not all that smart, it’s strangely freeing.

Your sex drive had skyrocketed since coming on this show, and even with having sex almost once a day, sometimes more, you found yourself missing the feeling of each guy in the house while they awaited their turn. It had been what felt like ages since the last time you actually, properly fucked him, even though it couldn’t have been a week, and you longed for it. Admitting that you were too desperate to even follow basic commands, letting yourself be reduced to a creature of need, with no coherent thoughts alleviated any shame you had about that thought. Jimin was here in front of you, skirt barely covering his spit-slicked cock, lips still a sinful wine red, and he loved your need, your desperation.

Jimin stands back up again, and makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, and any scant notion of tainted dignity that remained within you flies out the window. “I shouldn’t punish you, should I? When you couldn’t help it.”

“No, Minnie,” you agree with a whine, clenching your thighs together in a poor imitation of the stimulation you briefly had, “‘couldn’t help it. You don’t have to punish me.”

“And what would you want instead, little mouse?”

You widen your eyes in plea. “Fuck me, Minnie, I’m your good girl.”

He tilts his head to the side, and it’s the bemused smile that graces his lips that makes you realise he’s not going to give you what you want. “What a shame, then,” he murmurs, his fingers delving into your hair and tightening around a fistful of it, “that I have to punish you anyway. How else will you learn?”

You gasp as he steps backwards, pulling you with him by the grip in your hair. You’re forced to stumble forward on your knees and the tips of your fingers as he sits down on the edge of his mattress and settles you in front of him. “Minnie,” you whine, your own hands reading out to clutch at the fabric of the duvet in front of you.

“Y/n,” he teases in a singsong voice, “remember that new command that I wanted from my doll?” He spreads his legs open further, and the pink miniskirt rides up to expose his cock, smeared with a deep red from your ruined lipstick, dripping with saliva and precum. The hand in your hair tugs you closer. “It’s suck.”

Jimin isn’t gentle with you this time. Now that you have the advantage of responsiveness, sucking him down and swirling your tongue, he doesn’t bother sugar-coating it, and obscene noises emerge from your mouth as you swallow, gag and choke around him. He curses, using the handful of hair like a handle, guiding you up and down.

It’s barely any time at all before you feel a familiar sensation against your soaked panties. Jimin’s stockinged foot grinds against you with so much pressure you almost want to wriggle away from it. Your nerves are so touch-starved and your clit is so swollen that the slightest touch would’ve made you shiver, but the intense way he rubs the ball of his foot over your panties has you gargling hopelessly around him, mouth going slack.

He chuckles. “Too much? I can stop if you need, little mouse, I can’t have you getting distracted from your main use.”

Your hands detach from the duvet and wrap around his calf, fingers digging in and holding him there. Rutting your hips against it, you seek out the pleasure yourself but make sure to throw your efforts twice into blowing him, making him curse when you bob on his cock faster than your hips move.

“God, you’re fuckin’ filthy,” Jimin breathes out through a groan, “humping my leg like a fucking dog. Thought Tae was the pup, not you.” You’re unprepared for the hand that shifts and slips under your jaw, tightening around your throat so that you can feel his cock even more inside you. You gag, but swallow through it, the slight restriction of air bringing back that delicious heady feeling from earlier. Jimin catches your moan, even though it’s muffled around him. “Maybe I should get you a collar, little mouse. Make sure to buckle it tight.”

The thought makes your grinding falter, and you don’t doubt he feels the sudden rush of heat between your legs, because he suddenly kicks into action himself, grinding harshly against you as you cry out gutturally around his cock.

His grip on your neck loosens only to take a hold on the back of your head again, fucking your throat to chase his orgasm. The faster he snaps his hips, cursing lowly and groaning praises, the faster he jerks his foot against you, and it’s not long before the heat is gathering in a tight coil low in your belly.

You moan around him, jaw aching and lips stretched, and suddenly Jimin twitches inside you, spilling down your throat. Quickly, he pulls his cock out, and you only get the briefest taste on your tongue before he’s rubbing his tip across your swollen lips, spreading his cum across them.

His leg slows down as he releases, but you were so close to the edge yourself, and so you feel no shame in seeking it out, grinding yourself against him as you stick your tongue out to lick your lips clean.

Jimin groans, chest heaving, but lets you rut yourself against him, cum dripping down your chin, until finally you give a violent shiver as your orgasm runs through you. It’s mellow but toe-curling, and you clutch his leg to anchor yourself through it.

“Fuck,” you gasp out, head lolling forward onto his thigh, where the stocking turns to flesh, then the soft ironed pleats of his skirt.

Jimin’s hands are in your hair, stroking it away from your messy face and brushing out the tangles. “Oh, Y/n,” he chants softly, his voice a far cry from the dom that teased you before, “I love to play with you. How are you feeling?”

You feel drained, your entire body weight collapsed against him and the bed. “Mm.”

Jimin stifles a chuckle. “Could I have a colour, my little mouse?”

“Green,” you manage, “I’m green. But are we done now? If I don’t get some lip balm on now, my lips might just fall off.”

“Indeed we are,” he confirms, and bends down to slip his arms under yours, picking you up off the floor with ease. “As much as I love you being drunk off desire, I miss my clever, sweet, cheeky girl.”

Even with your body screaming in exhaustion, barely able to help him get you laid down on his bed and tucked under the duvet, your cheeks heat in a blush. “Don’t compliment me when I’m vulnerable, that’s cheating.”

“I’ll save them for later, then,” Jimin bargains with a tired smile, before he gets up and cringes, looking down. “As much as I’d love to collapse into bed for a nap with you right now, my sock is drenched thanks to you.”

Your eyes fly wide, and you manage to pull yourself up enough to glance over the side. Jimin isn’t kidding. All over the toes and top of his foot are dark patches in the stocking, clinging to his skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say with a wince.

“Don’t be,” Jimin assures, stripping it off with two fingers hooked into the fabric, “it was hot at the time. It just, uh, feels weird when it’s gone cold.”

Half the blood in your body has probably rushed to your face as you cover it with an embarrassed whine, burying yourself deeper in the sheets. “Maybe if you fucked me, I wouldn’t have gotten your sock wet,” you mutter petulantly, shamelessly deflecting.

“I’ll know better next time,” he quips, a grin evident in his voice. By the time you poke your head back up, he’s stripped down to just his white Gucci shirt, his bottom half totally bare as he retrieves a pair of boxers from the set of drawers. Stepping into them with no qualms about the temporary nudity - though, you suppose it would be stranger for him to be camera shy - he glances back over his shoulder. “And as much as I love to fuck you, we have just enough time for a cuddle before dinner. I miss you.”

Your heart warms, eyes soft. “Jimin,” you croon softly, “come here.”

He smiles, but hesitates. “Could I- I’m just- Should I text Tae?” he asks, lips twisting in uncertainty, still tinted a faded red. “I’m pretty sure nobody’s getting suspicious, and it’s not like we’re technically-”

“Text him,” you instruct with a beam. “I miss having you both close. We live in the same house; it sucks having to stay so separate.”

With how quickly Taehyung bundles into Jimin’s room after he sends the text, he must not have been far. He’s on you in a second, jumping onto the bed with enough vigor that the springs creak, and wriggling under the duvet beside you.

You seek him out with as much earnestness, if not enthusiasm, and hum happily when he lies back to let you rest your head on his chest. The bed creaks again, and Jimin’s body heat warms your back, his arm slung over your waist.

“It’s about time,” you hear Taehyung’s voice say, echoing through his chest, “I’ve been cuddling with one of Jin’s plushies these past few nights. It’s a sorry substitute for a whole human to snuggle.” He pauses to lift his chin, glaring imperiously at the blinking camera in the top corner of the room. “I missed having platonic cuddles with my friend Y/n. Cuddling is a favourite non-sexual pastime of mine.”

You giggle, curling into him and inhaling his comforting scent, like brown sugar or caramel. “I think you’re good, Tae.”

“Can we sleep now?” Jimin whines as he holds you tighter, face buried in the crook of your neck as he huffs. “I just had the soul sucked out of me.”

“I know, I know,” Taehyung grumbles, and if the comment strikes you as odd, it only takes the steady heartbeat and low hum of his breathing to blur the thought from your mind as you let yourself drift off.

Yoongi glances worriedly over his shoulder, ear straining to hear past the glass sliding door.

“They’re occupied,” Jin reminds, “besides, I doubt they can hear us all the way out here. Did we really have to come out to the patio just for a talk? It’s hot out here.”

The doctor shrugs, placing the package of fresh sliced beef onto the tabletop. “We’re having a barbecue tonight. At least this way we can pretend we were just getting set up.”

Jin narrows his brows, eyes softening in concern. Quickly, Yoongi drops his gaze, knowing it’ll just make him weak. “Yoongichi, talk to me. What’s up? What’s got you so nervous?”

Yoongi swallows. Thinks of what he rehearsed, of what he’d written in the notes app of his phone, read over and over that morning. This has been fun, but we’re kidding ourselves. Or maybe he’d skip the pretense and avoid beating around the bush. I can’t keep having sex with you while my feelings are on the line. “Um… A lot happened today. With Y/n.” Maybe he can beat around the bush a little bit, just to work up his courage.

“That it did,” Jin responds slowly, leaning against the outdoor dining table. Yoongi takes one of the wooden chairs, nails digging into the arms as he feels tension stiffen his body. “Though it seems like the others are doing a fine enough job of keeping her mind off it.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the bitter tone in Jin’s voice. “Are you jealous? Of them, I mean.”

“Of course not,” the therapist answers immediately, “I have no right to be. She’s a free woman, and this is just a show.”

He frowns, heart sinking. “You said you wouldn’t lie to me about her, hyung. We started this so that you had an outlet. Physical or otherwise.”

Jin pauses for a moment. “I don’t think she would’ve told me,” he says finally, “if I wasn’t already there when part of it happened. If you hadn’t have asked me to look after her. She hasn’t told the others. Not even Namjoon, I don’t think.”

“And that bothers you?”

“It shouldn’t bother me,” Jin deflects.

Yoongi doesn’t miss a heartbeat. “That’s not an answer.”

Jin lets out a hollow laugh. “Since when you get so smart?”

Upon hearing those words, Yoongi feels a sudden shard of glass cut deep inside him, enough to make him wince. “I was always smart,” he replies stiffly. “I wasn’t dumb before I started fucking you, Jin. I didn’t get emotional intelligence through osmosis.”

At least Jin has the good grace to look pained. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to say you weren’t, I phrased that poorly. I just meant…” He trails off, seeking out the right words. “I suppose I’m realising how much you’ve learnt about me in the time we’ve been spending together lately. I feel like I don’t know much about you.”

Maybe because you don’t care about me like I care about you, Yoongi wants to say. Maybe because you only think about Y/n these days. “You could always ask,” he says instead, and curses himself for the pathetic way his voice wavers in the air.

Jin’s brows furrow deeper, and his hand begins to rub against his thigh. Self-soothing, Yoongi knows. Jin always started stroking at his own thigh when he was stressed. “It’s probably good that you asked to have this talk. I’m not sure this is best for both of us. I appreciate how you’ve stuck by me, and the support you’ve given me-” Yoongi wonders why he doesn’t just call it like it is, fucking, “-but it really seems like it’s doing more harm than good for you. Maybe we should put an end to this, Yoongichi.”

Yoongi sucks in a breath. He came out here to say that. He came out here to end it. But hearing it from Jin’s lips, it sounds abhorrent to think of. “Don’t,” Yoongi blurts without thinking, nails digging into the wood, “don’t take it all away from me just based on that. I know what I have with you, Jin, and I know that right now it isn’t ideal, but it’s better than nothing!”

Jin’s brows knit together as he shakes his head. “I don’t think this is healthy. It was irresponsible of me to lean on you in the first place, but I swear you aren’t just a substitute for Y/n. I care about you, Yoongi, it’s why I came to you.”

“You came to me because you knew I’d say yes,” Yoongi corrects, a sad smile on his face. “Because you knew how I feel. It’s just my shitty luck that you don’t feel the same. I mean, I’m crazy about you, you’re crazy about Y/n, fuck, I’m even starting to- starting to think about her and me like that too, and…” He takes a breath, feeling like a speeding train about to run out of tracks. “And I know Jimin and Tae and Jungkook are all head over heels for her and each other, Namjoon just about worships the ground she walks on, Hoseok looks at most of the people in this house like he wants to eat them alive in the best way possible, and it’s just- All these feelings are all over the place and it just seems cruel that you couldn’t just like me. To want me to still be in your bed when you wake up, to want to cook for me not just with me, to maybe kiss when we fuck, I don’t know, it’s-” Yoongi forcefully cuts himself off before he digs that particular hole any deeper. “I guess the odds just aren’t in my favour here. Do you even like men? Romantically, I mean? A good fuck is fine, but-”

“I do, yes,” Jin says with a wince.

Yoongi’s heart sinks. “Just me then,” he surmises in a hollow tone. “That’s okay.”

Jin frowns. “I’m not entirely sure what you wanted to achieve with this conversation,” he says, in a voice so soft it could shatter, in a voice that sounds like he’s worried Yoongi might be the one to shatter, “but it sounds like whether you want to admit it or not, this friends with benefits thing just isn’t right for us. There’s too many loose strings and it’s getting messy.” Yoongi goes to butt in, but Jin isn’t done, raising his brows to get him to pause. “I want to be fully honest with you, Yoongi. I don’t think it’s wise for you to put your wellbeing on the line for a possibility. We should end this.”

There’s a part of Yoongi that’s writhing in relief, at seeing a light out of the cave, an escape. But that part of Yoongi is drowned out by the majority of his being, the part that can’t bear a goodbye. “It’s not messy,” Yoongi blurts against his better judgement, “I told you I’d keep my feelings out of this and I will. I want to fuck you, hyung, and you want to fuck me, and I see no reason to stop when I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you?” Jin asks dubiously. “I’m not going to continue this a moment further if I feel like you’re suffering because of this, Yoongi. It would be wrong of me.” He opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by a swooshing noise.

Yoongi jumps and whirls around just as Jungkook hops through the sliding door, grinning at the two of them. Yoongi sighs, relieved it seemed like the kid hadn’t heard anything. “This is a private conversation, Jungkook.”

“Is that, like, your code?” the youngest asks. “Wait, doesn’t matter. Anyway; I want in.”

Jin frowns. “You what?”

Jungkook’s smile just grows wider, exposing his teeth. “I want in, hyung, you two always sneak away to fuck, so I’ve come to join. I brought supplies.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open as the black-haired boy pulls his hand out of his pocket to reveal a fistful of condom packets. “Do you just carry those around in hope, or…?”

“I specifically went upstairs to get them,” Jungkook announces proudly. “So can I join the sex pact now?”

Jin pinches his brow. “There is no sex pact, Jungkookie, and now’s really not a great ti-”

“You can join, Kookie,” Yoongi interrupts, ignoring the disbelieving stare Jin sends him. The older man wanted to be assured that Yoongi was fine? He could do that. “Come sit on my lap.”

Jungkook looks like a kid on Christmas morning as he scrambles over, shoving the condoms back in his pocket. He clambers onto Yoongi’s lap with a touch of clumsiness, but settles in proudly, back against his chest. Automatically, Yoongi wraps his arms around him, low over his hips like a seatbelt.

Jin still seems to disapprove, hand dipping below the table to rub at his leg again. “This isn’t a good idea,” he says with a frown, “things will get messy if we start involving more people.”

Yoongi grins, leaning forward to press chaste kisses against Jungkook’s neck, making him giggle and squirm. Proving he was fine was one thing, but making Jin jealous? Making him feel what Yoongi had felt every time he gushed about Y/n? Yoongi wouldn’t turn an opportunity like that down. “Come on, hyung,” he coos teasingly, one of his hands lazily pressing down on Jungkook’s quickly-stiffening bulge, “our pretty boy just wants to play. If you aren’t interested, I’ll just fuck him myself.”

Jin’s eyes flare, watching Jungkook wriggle in Yoongi’s lap as he begins to suck a trail of hickies over the sensitive flesh. “I’m sure we’ll give him a better time together,” he says in a gravelly voice, and gets up out of his chair, stalking over to the pair. “But first, don’t you want to put on a show?”

Yoongi lifts his head up as Jin’s fingers brush over his cheek, and in a moment he’s being kissed with bruising intensity, all tongue and teeth. Jungkook whines and clutches at Yoongi’s shoulder, wanting in, but Jin’s lips taste like possessiveness and jealousy, and Yoongi thinks they’ve never been so sweet.

#cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts x reader #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jin smut #jin x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #ot7 smut #ot7 x reader

863 notes · View notes

sergeantsporks · 3 years ago

Note

Hey could you do Hunter getting getting injuries treated at the owl house? Like some hurt/comfort. If you want to write a non compliant Hunter that’s be really cool but thanks so much! I just love your owl house fics 🦉🪶

<3 Thank you!

Hunter yawned, the tip of his staff dipping through the air. He pulled himself back up. Just a little further until Bonesborough, and then he could make a pit stop, take a little nap, or at least grab some coffee. He rubbed his eyes. Okay, so maybe he should stop taking quite so many missions. But since he’d returned with the titan’s blood, Belos had been so pleased, and he wanted to keep that going, and obviously there wasn’t anything huge he could do, but if he kept taking all of the little missions, that would probably keep him in a good spot, right?

Hunter shook himself as he started to drift off again. “Bad,” he scolded himself, “Stay awake.”

He heard the sound of wingbeats behind him, and he twisted back. A griffin. Great.

Hunter dove to avoid the bird, but it chased him, shrieking. Probably a new mother. Well, he didn’t intend on being baby food.

Hunter swooped and swerved to the side, just barely dodging a swipe of claws.

If he’d just been a little more alert and less sleepy, he probably would have been able to see and avoid the tailstrike.

As it was, the griffin’s tail caught him right in the chest, knocking him off of his staff.

Hunter screamed as he tumbled through the air, clawing for his staff. His palisman fluttered out of his pocket, grabbing the back of his tunic in its claws and frantically flapping its wings.

It didn’t help much.

He slammed into the top branch of a tree, all of the air leaving his lungs with a whoof as the tree branch cracked under the force of his fall. The world blacked out.

When Hunter came to, it was because everything hurt too much for him to stay out. He groaned. His head felt dizzy, light, and everything ached—but especially his left leg, which throbbed painfully.

Hunter managed to pry his eyes open to see the ground, still far below, his staff too far beyond his reach, and his palisman lying dazed a few branches below.

“Ah!”

Hunter twisted to look up, biting his lip as the movement made his whole body scream in protest. He was hanging upside-down, his left foot caught between two branches. Hunter’s stomach heaved. Feet were… not supposed to bend that way.

Hunter strained to pull himself up and grab the next branch, but the shift made a wave of pain sweep up from his broken foot, and his vision went spotty.

Hunter relaxed, breathing heavily. Okay. This was… this was fine. He could get out of this.

Somehow.

Xxx

“Going to the library for some books, bye, Eda!”

“Uh-huh, yeah, books, sure, say hi to bossy-boots for me.”

Luz raced out the door and down the path, humming to herself. She tripped over a stick, and stumbled forward a few steps, looking back.

Wait.

Luz scooped up the coven staff she’d tripped on, glancing around. “Where…”

A rustle in the trees made her look up to see a very familiar white cloak and golden mask in the trees. Hunter was stuck upside down, and she suppressed a snicker.

“Need some help up there?”

“No! Go away, I’m fine!”

Luz tucked the staff in her belt, climbing up the tree and sitting on a branch next to him, scooping up Lil Rascal on the way. The trail of broken branches above Hunter indicated a pretty long fall. “Uh-huh.” She tugged off his helmet. “Can you even see out of this thing?”

Hunter swiped at her, and then yelped. “Ow! Go away! I don’t need your help!”

Luz examined the branch his foot was caught in. Oh, ow, that looked painful. “Hang on, I got this.”

She slapped a little plant glyph on the tree, and it responded to her, forming a little shelf underneath Hunter. Luz snapped the branch his foot was caught in, and he fell with a little oof to the tree shelf she’d made. Luz climbed down below him, taping a fire glyph to the bottom of the shelf and breaking the shelf, hitting the fire glyph so that it slowly lowered him to the ground.

“I said I didn’t need your help!”

Luz swung down next to him. “You’re welcome.” She held out his staff. “Hey. I know you’re mister independent or whatever, but the Owl House is literally right down the road, and you’re never going to make it back to the keep on your own, so why don’t you just come home with me, and we’ll fix your foot?”

Hunter snatched the staff back, struggling up to his feet and leaning on the staff, keeping his wounded foot up. He looked awful—besides the obvious foot problem, the dark circles under his eyes were so dark they looked like bruises, and his knuckles were white on his staff. “I said I’m fine. I jussssst… need to get to… town.”

He managed to hobble a couple of steps before he fell again, yelping.

“Wow. That’s just sad.” Luz hauled him up, slinging one of his arms around her shoulders and turning around. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

“I doooooon’t… need…”

Hunter struggled weakly against her, but then gave up, going limp, his eyes sliding shut. Luz dragged him along. “Whoof—hey—wake up, you’re heavy!”

Lil Rascal cheeped in her pocket, flapping out and shifting into its staff form, hovering so that Luz could sit Hunter on top of it.

“Trrrrrraitorrrrr,” Hunter slurred, his eyes open just a crack.

Luz pushed him back towards the owl house, pushing open the door with her foot.

“HEY EDA!” she called, “CHANGE OF PLANS FOR TODAY!”

Xxx

Ow. Ow. Ow.

Why did everything have to hurt so much?!

Hunter opened his eyes, staring up at a ceiling.

Wait.

Where was he? He glanced down, the familiar weight of his armor gone. Replaced by a T-shirt that said ‘bad girl coven’ on it

“OOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo, you’re awaaaaaake!”

Hunter yelped, punching the weird bird face. “Augh!”

The bird… worm… thing… drew back. “Ow! Geeeeeeze.”

Hunter sat up so fast he nearly blacked out again. His foot was stuck in a heavy cast, healing patches on it. “Where—oh, no-!” he swung his legs over the side of the couch. “I can’t—I can’t be here, I—”

Xxx

Luz came thumping down the stairs with more healing patches in time to see Hunter try to get up, and then immediately fall back with a groan.

“Ow—ow—ow—ow—”

Luz poked her head over the couch. “Hello!”

Hunter groaned. “Just kill me now.”

Eda stuck her head out of the kitchen, where she was cooking up more explosive potions. “Did I hear that we’re killing the nerd?”

“We’re not killing anyone.” Luz smacked a healing patch on Hunter’s forehead. “Pain patch!”

He tried to get up again, then hissed, sinking back. “I—ow—I can’t—”

“Your foot is broken, Hunter, you can’t go anywhere.” Luz put another patch on his face. “There. That should make it stop hurting.”

Eda snorted. “You know too many of those have a sedative effect, right? They use sleeping nettles to make them.”

Luz twisted back to look at her. “Whoa, really?”

Eda nodded. “See for yourself.”

Luz looked back down at Hunter, whose eyes were already drifting shut. He yawned, glaring at her. “What did… you…”

“Heh. Whoops. Sorry.” Luz squinted at him. “When was the last time you slept, anyway?”

“I don’t—couple of days, I don’t know.”

Luz slapped another pain patch on him. “I take my apology back, GO TO SLEEP!”

Xxx

“Aw, look at him.” Eda poked a sleeping Hunter in the face. “Y’know, he’s actually kind of adorable when he’s not trying to kill us.”

Luz peeled off one of the old healing patches that had lost its magic, applying a new one. “He can be nice. He needs a friend.”

Eda snorted. “Luz, he’s a coven member. I’m sure he has plenty of friends back with all the other Belos-ites.”

“I don’t think he does.” Luz sat on the arm of the couch. “He seemed kind of lonely, like he has no one to talk to. I mean, he’s the head of the coven—who’s he going to talk to that isn’t treating him like their boss?”

“Whoa, hey, there, Luz. He’s fun right now, when he can’t move, but don’t forget that he’s dangerous—he beat the two of us pretty handily, held his own against Kikimora, and Amity just barely got out of her fight with him, and that was when he was stressed out of his mind. I’m not saying he can’t be nice, or that he isn’t lonely, but just… watch your step, okay?”

Luz nodded. “I’ll be careful, Eda, I promise.”

Her mentor gave her a thumbs-up and ran back to the kitchen as smoke billowed from the door. Luz spun Hunter’s helmet in her hands, slipping it on. “Ugh. How does he wear this thing all of the time?” She tugged it back off, setting it down.

“Dooooon’t touch that.”

Luz jumped. Hunter was watching her through bleary, half-closed eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey yourself,” he mumbled crossly, “Why can’t I move?”

Luz winced. “I miiiiiiiight have put a few too many pain patches on you. But you were really hurting!” She poked his shoulder. “Can you feel that?”

“Quit that!”

Luz stuck her tongue out at him. “Eh. Hey, did you know that half of your ribs are broken?” I think your armor probably protected you a little bit, but how high did you fall from?”

He blinked sluggishly. “I don’t know—high.”

“Man.” Luz fidgeted. “Hey, uh, Hunter? Where’d all of those scars come from?”

Hunter closed his eyes again.

“Hey! I know you’re not asleep, Hunter!”

He opened his eyes just a little bit. “They were accidents,” he grumbled, “Satisfied?”

“Accidents?”

“Yeah. Accidents.”

“Even the claw one? What was that an accident of, accidentally antagonizing a bear?”

He closed his eyes again. “Something like that.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, and Luz sighed. “Okay. Hey. I’m sorry. I won’t poke into your personal life anymore.”

He opened one eye. “Really?”

“No,” Luz admitted, “I’m totally going to keep poking into your personal life. But… you don’t have to answer. If you really don’t want to. Oh, hey, you thought the glyph combos were cool, wanna see my new one? Of course you do.”

Luz scribbled down a plant and fire glyph in a circle combo and squeezed it in her hand. A whip made out of fire stretched out, and she cracked it. “Neat, huh!”

“You just lit the floor on fire.”

Luz yelped, stomping on the fire. “Go out, go out, go out!”

Xxx

Hunter snorted, watching Luz struggle to put the fire out, then winced as the snort made his ribs ache. The pain patches must be wearing off.

Luz put out the fire and started chattering about how the glyph combos worked, and how folding origami could make the coolest things.

Hunter drifted off again, still groggy from the patches (and yes, okay, fine, from the all-nighters, too). When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. One single ball of light floated in the middle of the room, sending off a dim nightlight.

Night?!

Oh—he was so late—he would be in so much trouble—maybe he could pretend he was still out doing missions?

Hunter started to sit up, then fell back with a groan. Ow, his ribs.

His palisman chirped sleepily, untucking its head from its wing to blink at him. Someone—probably Luz—had propped his broken foot up with pillows and given him a blanket.

I need… to go back…

But it was warm and comfortable here, and he couldn’t move anyway, and his foot wasn't going to be better for a while, and his eyes were already drifting shut.

But maybe… maybe I can stay a little longer.

#and then he never leaves :)#toh #toh fanfiction #my writing #asks

18 notes · View notes

ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

Note

could you write a lil blurb or concept about gray having to shut you up while he fucks you? like, you’re moaning soooo fucking loud and he just says something cocky to piss you off before he kisses you hard or clamps his hand over your mouth. i love this shit it’s so hot

This literally made me clench i fucking love this.

I love the idea of it being in a hotel, too -- even though there’s nothing worse than being a stranger on the other side of that wall. But you’re encapsulated in this space where time has ceased to exist and it feels like you’re in your own little world, just the two of you. A stay-cation in Malibu in a giant, luxurious room with the ocean crashing 50 yards away and the sunset illuminating the walls a pale orange.

You and Grayson had come back from dinner with every intention of making the romance last with a walk on the beach until dark, maybe find some live music, and follow it with a nightcap in the form of a hot bath in the giant claw foot tub of your suite.

But you’d had two glasses of wine — a rarity, since you usually skipped drinks altogether with Gray — and your body is feeling loose and horny in that special way only that substance can make you. Grayson had nipped at your ear as you fumbled, giggling, with they key card to get back into the room, whispering how beautiful you looked and how sweet you smelled. The same could be said for him, and you do so with a pouty, seductive simper thrown over your shoulder as well.

And by the time you stumbled into the room together, you had already decided that there’s no way the two of you are leaving this room tonight.

Grayson seems to have been on the same page, because before you know it he’s hoisting you into his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the bed. You wrap your arms around his neck, clutching your elbows in your hands as you pull his face towards your own until your smiles are melding together, sloppy and practiced and wonderful.

You squeak when he drops you onto the cloud-like mattress, shaking your disheveled hair out of your face with your the corners of yours lips turned up even though the lower one is caught tightly in your teeth. Your dress has ridden up around your hips from how he had held you just a moment ago, but you make no effort to pull it down or hide the now-exposed red lace beneath.

Grayson mirrors your smirk and follows you on his hands and knees as you scoot up the pillows, until you’re caged by his thick arms and hard body. He’s still wearing the white linen shirt he wore to dinner, and the way it billows out at his stomach but clings to the ridiculous breadth of his shoulders and chest makes you clench and moan a little.

“You’re... really sexy,” you sigh, unable to come up with a more sophisticated adjective that’s just as fitting for this man above you, but feeling like you just needed to let him know one way or the other. You slip your fingers past the open buttons at the top of his shirt so you can thread them through his chest hair, your other hand sliding up his forearm until your fingers are clutched around his bicep and squeezing.

Grayson grins and flexes his arm, and you catch the glint in his eye before you toss your head back with another laugh and a moan. “Fuck.”

“Haven’t even touched you, baby,” he reminds smugly, tensing his bicep again and watching, enthralled, as you let out a breathless huff and hitch your legs up around his waist.

Even Grayson can’t resist lowering his hips now, following the pressure you coaxed against him to bring his body closer to yours. He’s already hard himself, but you don’t have it in you to tease him about it, because the sensation of that bulge against your nearly-bare center is almost too much. You moan louder than before, sliding your hand up his neck until you’re gripping the hair at the nape tightly and dragging his lips back to yours.

The gasps and whimpers that pass your lips and into his are needy and whiny and almost foreign to your own ears in how loud and obvious they are, especially when you find leverage to drag your clothed pussy over the hard ridge of his dick behind the zipper of his forest green pants. Your hands fumble with his belt and fly as you suck on his tongue, your slim fingers trembling with desperation as you push them down his hips roughly.

“Fuck me,” you say, and it comes out more demanding and loud than you mean it to. Grayson doesn’t seem to care one bit, however, maybe even more turned on himself by how voracious you’re being as you suck wet kisses across his stubbled jaw. You tongue his lobe and nip it gently before pressing your lips right to his ear. “Please. Need you so bad.”

“Mm. Please. I like that,” he murmurs through a shiver, turning his head so that his nose nuzzles your cheek. “Wanna hear you say it all night.”

Again, maybe any other night you would have flipped him over and sucked his dick so good until that (no pun intended) cockiness would be wiped clear from his mind. But you’re ravenous for him and only in the mood to play into it right now. It usually yields good results, if history is to repeat itself, and you’re more than ready for him to show off.

Grayson gets you naked in seconds, and lets you whip his shirt over his head and push his pants down further until he has to stand off the bed to shed them. He climbs back on the mattress on his knees, his erection evident in his tiny briefs, but he makes no moves to free it despite your earlier request. His calloused hands brush up your silky shins, cupping your knees and pushing them apart so that he’s greeted by the sight of your pussy. Your arousal glistens in the filtered light of the sunset, and Grayson’s cock throbs hard as he settles between your legs like the last missing piece of a puzzle — right where he belongs.

You accept the deep, wet kiss he leans down to give you with a sigh, unable to resist the urge to cup him and stroke him through the tight material of his underwear. Grayson grunts softly and pushes into your hand, and your fingers curl around him as much as they can in the confines his dick is in.

Maddeningly, he scoots down so your touch is just out of reach when your fingertips start to inch into his waistband. But before you can complain, his lips are wrapping around one of your nipples, and your working brain is gone again.

He spends an inordinate amount of time ravishing your tits, relishing in the pretty sounds he elicits, especially when his fingers sneak down and thread through your pussy. He groans when he feels how wet you are already, murmurs something about how needy you are, and slips two thick digits inside you just to fill you up. Just to feel you soak and clench them, to get a literal first-hand reaction to how his lips and tongue and teeth above affect you below. It’s amazing in how good but unsatisfying the sensation is, and you can only grip his hair tighter and moan louder.

When he finally licks and kisses down your stomach, you’re a whimpering, writhing mess on the duvet as he wastes no time in swiping his tongue around your clit, then suctioning it into his mouth.

“Holy fuck, Gray!” you shriek, your thighs clamping around his ears of their own accord and your hands flying up to grip the pillow beneath your head.

Grayson growls roughly and pulls his fingers out of you so he can free himself. He looks up at you with dark, lust-clouded eyes as he pushes your legs out and up, following the rise of your hips so he can blanket your pussy with his whole mouth. His tongue swipes up your slit, dipping into your hole and dragging out the slick, swallowing some and pooling the rest with his saliva around your clit once again.

You don’t know if he’s ever eaten you out this good, and that’s saying something, because if there’s one thing Grayson Dolan can proudly say he’s more than accomplished at — it’s eating pussy. Maybe it’s the wine, or the setting, or just an overwhelming surge of passion for your boyfriend, but you’re crying out in all of a minute with your hands delved back into his thick hair and your thighs trembling like an autumn leaf in the wind.

You vaguely feel him slide off the end of the bed to get rid of his underwear before he’s suddenly hovering back over you, and he’s kissing your swollen lips as he hitches a leg high around his waist and slides into you.

He holds your other leg out and pins it to the bed, and you’re moaning instantly at the stretch of him, at the depth he reaches like this. Your arms wrap around his back and your nails dig into his muscled shoulders, but his hiss is drowned out by the high pitch of your cries as he starts fucking you for real.

Your vision is blurry but your eyes lock with Grayson’s, and the image of his slack-jawed face makes you clench involuntarily with a fresh rush of arousal. Grayson moans himself and kisses you swiftly before sitting back on his haunches and hauling your hips into his lap. His hands grip your waist tightly as he flicks his pelvis up into yours, and you lose sight of him as your eyes roll back into your head.

If you were in your right mind, you might have noticed how fucking loud you’re being, your shrieks echoing off the walls and probably reverberating down the hall. You don’t have two shits to give, though, as your fingers clench tightly in the white comforter and your voice rings out of its own accord, every sound fucked straight out of you by Grayson’s dick.

Grayson himself is so worked up, his expression is practically crazed as he watches the way he’s making you fall apart. His chest is sweaty and that sexy flop of hair dangles over his forehead and into his eyes as he gives you a few more powerful, expert thrusts before he has to slow down and collect himself.

“Jesus,” he groans, leaning over you once again after he pulls your legs over his shoulders. He supports himself on one forearm and grabs a tit with his other hand, letting out a wild, breathless laugh as he starts pumping into you again. “Are you trying to get us kicked out of this hotel?”

Shut up, is what your brain tells him in reply, but all what comes out of your mouth is a desperate, “Please fuck me!”

Grayson grunts and his hand leaves your breast in favor of clamping tightly around your mouth, muffling the volume of the sounds you couldn’t hold back if you tried. Sweat mingles on your skin that’s pressed together, eyes locked passionately as he gives you those hard, deep strokes that make you cum like a fountain around his cock.

And it’s Grayson’s turn to be loud, the hot, wet clamp of your pussy simply too much for him as he empties inside you with a guttural groan. Your arms feel like dead weight, but you manage to lift them up and wrap around him as he lets your legs go and cuddles up to you with an exhausted sigh.

The two of you fall asleep right there, blissfully unaware of the sharp knock and an obnoxious piece of hotel pad paper slipped under your door.

#i havent written smut like this in a while lol #im rusty #dolan twins #grayson dolan #blurb #g blurb

290 notes · View notes

oristromboli · 4 years ago

Text

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 1

Chapter 1: Haunted Memories

In which you grapple with past events bleeding into the present.

(Smut this chapter: none)

“The arrogation of mankind ends here.”

Things became a blur after that – your wings burst forth and you saw the twins take off in opposite directions as you split down the middle. Like some dance, the three of you wove between oscillating pillars of dark shapes folding in on themselves before all converged in on the imposing woman. She was no different from any other gate, any other obstacle you needed to cross between worlds; while you were often the one to suggest the quiet and efficient route, the twins charged forward with one clear goal in mind. Two-against-one were bad odds, especially when it was you between a rock and a hard-place – or, more accurately, squeezed between one twin and the other. You pitied the god as she braced for their combined onslaught, clearly unaware of what hell would rain down-

Except. Except, suddenly, you witnessed the twins suspended in mid-air, caught and strung up for their audacity.

You didn’t think, you couldn’t think, you dove for the first twin you saw and yanked them away from that void that crept from her fingers.

Lumine looked up, shocked and horrified all at once, and indescribable shame turned to ice in your blood. While you held on to Aether, you both witnessed Lumine become swallowed in that blackness, that.. nothingness, and you could only let go of Aether as he shot forward to flank the god.

His sword was drawn and in a flash of light did it seem to make contact. You quickly joined his side with hopes to see Lumine amidst the chaos. Everything would be okay again, you three could go back to adventuring, she would forgive the split-second decision, you told yourself. That is, until you saw the god tall and proud with barely a scoff as she looked at you two without even the decency of contempt. In that moment, you suddenly understood the impulsive twins’ tempers. You both dove towards the god, weapons drawn and red in your eyes.

Wait. Wait, no, that’s not right. The red was neither your anger nor panic, but the god’s powers enclosed on you both.

“Wait! Stop! Give my sister back!” Aether cried, and you closed your eyes, wishing to all the stars above that this was all a dream and you could stop suffocating –

---

“Paimon! Paimon, get off of her,” Aether said, laughing as he lifts the fairy off of your chest and what the fuck Paimon.

“Aw, Paimon just wanted to help! She wasn’t waking up, so Paimon thought that shaking her would help,” she said, pouting as you felt her tiny paws release your shirt to only hang limply as she was carried like a sack of potatoes away from you. Emergency rations indeed.

“Okay, we need to have a serious talk about you and personal boundaries,” you mutter while you sit up, massaging feeling back into your collarbone. “If you don’t want to be designated as mascot number two behind our lil’ buddy, I suggest you start losing some weight before sitting on me.” You jerk your thumb towards Aether’s belt where a small glass ball hung and a golden Seelie flickered rhythmically. Is it snoring?

“Hey! Paimon is not mascot number two! And Aether’s cooking is too good…” she mumbles, flipping between indignant to having the gall to look somewhat guilty as she breaks free from his grasp. That didn’t last long, though, as Aether snickers with an incriminating finger poking the fairy.

“So, you admit to being our mascot?”

You very quickly tune their bickering out and set out about collecting your own bedroll before moving on to Aether’s. Most of your powers were sealed except for the few convenient ones, such as access to a subspace for storage and the ability to travel quickly within Teyvat, but otherwise, everything else was left for discovery. In that way, organizing your campsite became quick and easy work on the days that you weren’t woken by Hilichurls looking to turn your bedrolls into breakfast burritos.

Actually, scratch that. Hilichurls are better than Paimon ‘accidentally’ strangling you.

Aether’s laugh rings clear around you as he stretches his lithe body, already limber and prepared for the day. He never seemed to care much about comfortable beds – or, well, any basic comforts – but Paimon is right, he makes damn good meals. In your many months on Teyvat looking for Lumine, you both fell into a steady rhythm where he cooked and acted as a de facto leader while you archived everything you came across. Between the three – no, the two of you - you were often the one taking notes and painting the landscape around you in an effort to remember these adventures while Aether acted as the beacon of hope for the locals.

Even if Aether fills Lumine’s role easily, you can tell it was never comfortable.

You pause at that thought, glancing over to Aether who was making very exaggerated gestures to what you can only assume are his steps for Paimon à la carte. The ball holding your new friend bounces around with his movements, but the Seelie inside seemed unperturbed, if you were being honest. He never parted with the creature, and you were sure it was equally possessive of its new master.

In his own way, you think Aether tries to be subtle about it: between the Seelie’s ethereal golden glow and its headstrong personality, you can’t help but notice how he cradles the ball with a forlorn expression some nights. It was only polite to roll over in your pretend-sleep and very pointedly not comment. When he wasn’t wrapped around the ball, you laid next to him and held him as tightly in silent understanding, often falling asleep tangled like that.

The tear stains are always ignored the morning after.

You swallow around a sudden lump and turn around, fumbling for your own journal to see the next tasks for the day. Despite your own emotions, you know that Aether doesn’t blame you, he told you himself many times and says that there was only one of you. Still, you can’t help but wonder if - while he doesn’t blame you per se - he wishes it was Lumine you chose and not him. Ever the self-sacrificing big brother.

A red thread lies hidden in the page you left off, acting as a sort of make-shift bookmark. Wrapped in knots and with a sort of tender care for the regal dragon with amber eyes near the bottom is a single Starconch, dangling around with each gentle breeze. If anybody asks you, you would deny it vehemently, but you swore you could hear laughter from that conch sometimes from another big brother. Twirling the sapphire item, you can’t help the bittersweet smile that breaks out on your face against the stupid memory.

---

You decided to stray from Liyue that day, most of your daily commissions done with Aether treating Paimon to dinner afterward. Like two parents, you switched days on who gets the honors of taking the overgrown child while the other relishes in time for themselves. It was natural; though you were used to traveling as a pack, sometimes you just… needed to get away.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one with that idea as you soon spied a figure lounging in the sandy beaches close to the city. When you were close enough to see the scarf billowing in the breeze, you stopped and immediately held your breath. Shit, shit, shit, did he know you were here? Maybe if you just quietly turned around, you could get away and leave the Eleventh Harbinger alone. Not that you were strangers to each other. Far from, actually, as you grew friendly with each other over the many weeks - or has it been months? Time flows differently in this world – spent together in Liyue.

“Hey, girlie,” he calls without looking your way and you freeze. Whelp, there goes that plan.

“H-hey,” you stutter, only to stop and tap your throat lightly before trying again. “Hey, Childe. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

He snickers and turns then with a wide smile, yet it wasn’t as feral as you expected. If anything, he seems distant. “No, you’re fine. Looking for some peace and quiet from that stir-fry?”

“Oh, how did you know,” you say with a small smirk as you walk closer. Childe looks up at you and pats the sand next to him. No harm in that, sure, you could sit down. He was better company than Paimon at the moment, anyway. At that thought you grimace briefly, when the hell did you want to spend more time with a Fatui Harbinger? Still, you join him in watching the waters dance across the sand.

Okay, yeah, you can admit the view is gorgeous. Liyue never fails you in that regard with its mountains and crystal clear waters. The trees are always an explosion of color while the geography varies dramatically from one corner to another. You're certain Childe thought the same despite his incessant complaints about the heat.

Which, speaking of, he was unusually quiet and focused. When you glance at him, you only notice then he was thumbing a small, blue shell with a star on it. He catches your eye and holds up the conch. “Mm? This? You know, there’s an old legend in Liyue that says that if you hold the conch up to your ear, you can hear what your heart longs for,” he says as he flicks the conch to your hands. “For most, that’s the sea, of course. All the boats, all the business opportunities. Maybe you’ll hear the gremlin’s whining?”

You punch his shoulder lightly while he laughs, all the while eyeing you carefully. Maybe this was your cue to listen? However, when you hold the conch up, you didn’t hear the sea at all. Almost… suffocatingly empty, like… Your eyes widen, imperceptible to all except for damnably sharp Harbinger who you felt nudging against your foot from his own. “So? What’d you hear?”

“I hear… the ocean. The one between worlds,” you lie before you held it back out to him.

Childe guessed yours and Aether’s otherworldly - or rather, "not human" as he put it - status early on. You weren’t surprised coming from someone who carefully pointed out the use of elemental powers without visions, so you never bothered to obfuscate your stories from other realms too deeply. How Zhongli suspected, however, was beyond you at the time. The funeral consultant dismissed Aether’s questions with a lazy wave and this is no more strange than adepti in teapots.

Your companion shakes his head and wraps his gloves around yours, closing the conch into your fist.

“The ocean between worlds, huh?” Childe looks up then, something… something dark and inaccessible in his eyes again. You purse your lips and lower your eyes. “You know, I hear whales. The ones in the ocean here… They call out and follow each other,” he finishes, the pause in his sentence enough to be nearly visceral. He turns to you, eyes wicked and teeth bared in a wide smile. “Maybe they’re looking for a good kill?”

You snort. It became quite easy for you to dismiss these little moments of vulnerability, to close your eyes and forget. Ironic, considering you spent your waking days desperately trying to remember. “Maybe. Maybe there are some up there, looking for their next adventure. They’re… never alone, you know,” you murmur and ignore the curious look Childe gave you, “they have constellations all around them. To guide them home.”

“Sure,” he scoffs and stands. All of a sudden, that vulnerability was stamped underfoot like a stray pest. Did you say something wrong? Regardless, it’s unavoidable that some of the sand flies in your face from Childe’s movement, but you take the opportunity to swat him in fake annoyance nonetheless. Score one for you, zero for Fatui. Childe chuckles and offers his hand, which you take gratefully and will not comment on his tight grip while he dusted your back off, nope. You will not.

It wasn’t a long walk back to Liyue and the two of you fell into an easy banter. Well, easy for Childe since he ruthlessly pinpointed your pet peeves for exploitation, but you enjoy him nonetheless. This felt natural, dancing between the lines of friend and enemy.

Along the docks, the two of you run into Zhongli examining tapestries from a stand.

“Ah! Zhongli! What a surprise finding you here!... ” No it isn’t.

“... Just browsing, I see. What are you planning on buying?...” You mean what you are going to buy, Childe.

“... Is there anything we can help with?” Help the walking encyclopedia of Liyue? The entire time your face twists more in your incredulity at the implication of Zhongli requiring anything other than Mora. Still, you nod along, if only to hear Zhongli speak at length about the history associated. You are, after all, a curator of all things practical in knowledge.

The fact that his warm voice sends shivers to your core was just a bonus, honest.

Zhongli’s eyes shimmer as he looks at the two of you, crinkling faintly along the edges. “Indeed, I would greatly appreciate assistance in deciding which pattern to buy.” He turns back to the stand with a hand resting on his chin, and you flank Zhongli’s right while Childe goes to his left. “This design over here depicts Glaze Lilies in bloom, a wondrous sight most rare these days in Liyue. A moment preserved for all to appreciate. Over here, we see the clouds descending upon the mountains of Liyue…”

So you told yourself you were going to listen to Zhongli, but you suddenly can’t help staring at a long, crimson token. The strings appear to be woven in complicated patterns, but when you look closer, you realize that the patterns are dragon scales that meet on a wild head with Cor Lapis eyes. How curious. Once upon a time, you were sure a design like this would have adorned the walls of kings of yore, yet now it only serves as a cheap souvenir.

The single thought of pretty propels you grab it.

Of course, this does not go unnoticed by Zhongli and Childe. You felt the silence rather than heard it; in that moment, you look to their inquisitive gazes, eyes wide and face as flushed as the dragon. “I… I. I saw this and. It’s… Pretty. Pretty nice,” you lamely explain, suddenly at a loss for words when the full force of their combined gaze is set upon you. Stars and gods above, that was pathetic. Tourist trap sprung.

Childe’s smile grows indulgent and Zhongli’s tight-lipped expression never moves while his shoulders barely trembled. They… thought this was cute. Great. You purse your lips and turn away, mumbling obscenities under your breath. Still, a traitorous grin comes as you felt Childe’s hand settle on your shoulder as he not-so-subtly breaches your personal space after side-stepping the funeral consultant.

“A pretty token for a pretty girl, no?” he coos and leans forward to inspect the trinket in your hand.

“Childe possesses an expensive eye,” Zhongli agrees and his voice floods your other ear as the older man follows Childe’s lead. His rich timbre petrifies you, and you could only stand there with a white-knuckle grip while you listen to their appraisal. “In Liyue, an invisible red string is said to entwine the fate of all those caught in its distinct pattern, destined to meet regardless of time or circumstance. Never will it break, safeguarded by the divine itself. Even the tangled pandemonium it may cause would lead only to a grander, more intricate pattern at journey’s end. Perhaps this will lead you to your destination?”

“Zhongli, as much as I appreciate Liyue’s customs and stories, isn’t this a little too on the nose? Saccharine to the very end indeed,” Child snickers. Still, when he notices your crestfallen expression at his bickering, he gazes at Zhongli again before you hear your name called softly. “Hey. Let’s make a deal, yes?”

“What? No, no, no I am not making a deal with a Fauti Harbinger,” you immediately hiss and whip around. Damn the fallen Geo Archon, you will not be beholden to the whims to a Harbinger in the land that once belonged to the God of Contracts. In a desperate bid for allies, you beg your other friend, who was suddenly and conveniently interested in another token on the stand. Damn him too, you decide.

“Come on, pretty bird,” Childe says and pokes your side.

“I think I liked it better when you called me pretty girl.”

“Ah, no no, pretty bird because you always cry when the cats come over to play.”

“I do not, fuck you very much. And did you just call yourself a cat -?”

“I promise, this is a deal you’ll like. Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. I’ll buy it anyway.” Childe waves his hand to the vendor to barter. Before long, he returns triumphant with the long thread in hand and gently lays it in your own in the same manner he did with the Starconch shell. “Y’ready to hear my deal?”

“No.”

“In return for me generously buying you this,” he continues, ignoring your very pointed is this how he treats you, Zhongli and the amused no, simply you in response, “I want your end of the deal to be carrying this with you, in that little journal you think we don’t see you scribbling in.”

Your face immediately flushes with indignation. “Like a bookmark? Why?”

“Because,” Childe says while he carefully wraps the end closest to the dragon’s head around the shell. By the time he’s finished, the dragon looks to be gripping the glimmering item and protective amber eyes gaze upwards to the heavens, ignorant to Zhongli’s intense scrutiny. “Because, sweet thing, I think Zhongli’s right. The Hero of Mondstadt, a Fatui Harbinger, and a funeral consultant all walk into a bar – “

“That is not how I remember our first meeting, Childe.”

“ – and forgive our dear comrade’s ignorance of Snezhnayan jokes. Point being, I don’t want you to forget this,” he says, winking when you blink owlishly. It’s hard to remember that you’re supposed to hate this man and hate his sentimentality.

“This… this is your attempt to piss me off, isn’t it? Make me never forget I’m friends with a Harbinger? Put a mark on my back that says ‘I.O.U.’?”

“Aw, now why would I do that? You wound me!” Childe pretends to be hurt before elbowing you with all the mischief you would see Aether give you before charging a Hilichurl camp. “Besides, you said it yourself, friend. I just want to be remembered. That’s the only debt you owe.”

As much as you wanted to hit Childe then, you both turn when you hear Zhongli’s rumbling chuckle. You lean forward against Zhongli opting to hit him instead and relish in his little grunt to your effort, clearly only putting on a show for humor’s sake. “Wow. Is this a gift from you too, Zhongli?”

“Hey! I paid for it!”

“Thank you,” you say fondly. “Except… Except I have nothing in return. Zhongli told me about how he gave you chopsticks, and you two gave me this – never mind how you even pay for Zhongli’s entire life. How can I…” You look down then, somber of the fact you are in the land of contracts.

(All must be fair in love and war.)

“How can I make this fair?” you settle, gazing up suddenly. Childe only laughs, characteristic of his lackadaisical attitude and oh stars you know this is going to bite you in the ass. You feel Zhongli’s hand rest on your hip and when you turn to him, he’s -

Oh gods he’s so close -

“Your company is enough, dear bird. Now come. I am in need of eyes tempered by travels outside of Liyue. It is refreshing to see these items anew.” He pivots on his heel and walks further along the docks without turning behind to check whether you and Childe would follow. You both do, of course, but not without half-hearted grumbles at his presumptuousness.

It became easier then, the bickering between you and Childe with Zhongli only stepping in when he cared enough to distract your verbal blows for opinions on his next purchase. That, of course, only led to the two of you turning on the refined gentlemen, determined to crack that stony exterior as punishment for his ridiculous disregard for money. How immature, how… childish. Damn it.

You hear your name being called. “Hey, hey, are you listening? Hey-“

---

“Heyyy!” Paimon says, floating in front of your face while Aether snaps his fingers. Blinking awake, you snap to attention. Aether had gathered the rest of your supplies, and the three of you were ready to continue on your travels by foot to gather ingredients on approach to Dragonspine. “Hey! Paimon asked if you were ready to go?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah I am. Sorry, was just trying to remember our, ah… next commissions,” you mumble before putting the journal away. Paimon gazes at you sympathetically then. With a sharp turn on your heel, you began walking towards the mountain with a renewed bounce in your step and lame determination to ignore Paimon’s pity. “C’mon! Better to get there sooner rather than later, yeah?”

Aether jogs to catch up and flicks his eyes between you and Paimon in some grand conspiracy. “Think if Paimon eats the last of our goulash again, we can use her as a hot blanket?” You both laugh, whipping around then to stare at the aforementioned fairy who only gulps.

“Paimon, ahh, Paimon is going to go scout ahead! Can never be too careful!” she chirps before floating ahead at a speed you only ever saw her gain when she spies a fresh meal. You were thankful, though. It’s no secret how you hurt these past few months since Childe’s departure to Schnezaya after his release of Osial. In many ways, that disaster became old news with the citizens of Liyue eager to remember the event only as of the fond ascension of the Liyue Qixing’s power rather than the near-death blow from the Vortex God. The peaceful Rite of Descension held after solidified the transition into the age of men. Though rumors were abound of Childe’s – no, Tartaglia’s – involvement, they were quickly muddled with the Fatui emphasizing new business opportunities in an attempt to let it all be “water under the bridge.”

Rather, they attempted to save face while Ningguang squeezed them under her golden thumb as retribution. Ultimately though, nobody truly witnessed Childe himself summoning the god of old.

That doesn’t make his actions any better after knowing. If anything, you find it almost easier to forgive – bitter in your private admission – since he acted only within his nature, no more and no less. Understanding was swift after you and Aether were somehow roped into helping him wrangle Teucer, a spitting image of the stubborn Childe you knew and not bloodthirsty Tartaglia, before his return to Schnezaya. You couldn’t find it in yourself to truly hate him after the Fatui’s blatant trust in you two to keep his secret, even as you jot down a new quest afterward: ‘Strangle Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, at your next meeting.’

Before his departure from the Northland Bank, you even had the courtesy to warn him under your breath when you hugged him farewell. He naturally returned the sentiment and squeezed harder in emphasis.

Yep. Reasonable. Single-minded friends to the end.

No, you hate the Fatui more. Whether Tartaglia ever forgives his conniving comrades – and the Tsarista - is something for the stars to witness. You know how deeply he respected the Tsarista for her frigid yet imperial attitude, something borne from the experience of a true warrior who courted death head on, whose pale complexion was forever marred by the scarlet slaughter. The only time you saw light in his eyes was when he waxed poetry of her carnage, much to Paimon’s disgust.

His contempt for deceit often warred with his pragmatic attitude of “the ends justify the means.” Despite his misgivings, he acted within his orders perfectly. He even expressed his distaste for unnecessary power demonstrations, a complete contrast to your false assumption and Signora’s patronizations over his desire for chaos. The reward? Being used and tossed aside. With Tartaglia designated as a pawn in the Cryo Archon’s grand game instead of granted the bare decency for communication between commander and general, you couldn’t help but wonder where his opinions of her now lie. Even as he cursed Zhongli and Signora for leading him on, you heard humor lacing his words. You were sure that Tartaglia always suspected Zhongli to be more than a consultant, but the Tsaritsa’s blatant disregard for the Harbinger’s intelligence was offensive, even to you.

In the end, what Tartaglia really thinks of her now doesn’t matter. It never did.

No, you were – are, you desperately try to remind yourself – more disappointed with Zhongli, with Rex Lapis, the God of Contracts, the God of War, with fucking Morax. When you first came to Liyue with the intention of hunting down the Geo Archon, both you and Aether marveled at the Geo powers bestowed upon you from the first statue encountered out of Mondstadt. Surely, Aether pondered then, this meant that the Geo Archon approved of your Holy Grail quest. Instead, many months later and after some rather painful revelations, you both discovered that Zhongli – gentle, kind, and dear Zhongli – was none other than the stone-cold god instead. Aether tried convincing you for weeks that this was Zhongli’s nature, that as a god who walked Liyue for over six thousand years, he likely saw these as tactical maneuvers similar to the Archon War.

Aether, bless him, understood Zhongli’s reasoning deeply; after all, you two were likely thousands of years old yourselves despite stopping the count many centuries ago. You logically understand the desire for peace, but you can’t help the emotional betrayal.

Thankfully, Aether keeps most of his comments to himself. He knows you well enough to know why you were really upset, why your heart twists at the memories you spent with the former Archon, but he is wise enough to know when to pick his battles.

You still remember your bitter conversations with Zhongli afterwards, your rampage in seeking him out at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor for answers. Except, what answers could he give you that he didn’t already offer at the Golden House? Still, that didn’t stop you as you barreled forward, didn’t stop you from pounding against his stone-cold chest and meeting his irritatingly serene gaze as you demanded he sat down for what pitiful interrogation you could dish out on the God of War. Since that confrontation, you spent much of your time in Liyue attempting to harass – or reconcile? – with Zhongli.

As you approach the mountain’s base, you feel Aether’s hand on your shoulder and his soft voice, “She didn’t mean it you know. She’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll bet you, I don’t think she’s forgiven him either. Paimon knows you’re trying, you’ve spent more time with Zhongli to repair things, but as much as she loves the fact that you’ve gotten him to pay for all our meals now, I'm pretty sure she’s still mad at him.”

You laugh then, and Aether perks up at your shift. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, matching his steps with yours as you snicker along. “Stars help the Lord of Geo, because he hasn’t face the fury of a hungry Paimon.”

---

“Promise me.”

“I understand.”

“No, Morax, you don’t. I need you to promise me.” You scowl hard, hands slamming on the desk as you stare deep into his amber eyes. He only passively stares back, but you knew him better than that. Those months of connection, of deeper understanding – even if you didn’t truly understand then it was because of two immortals who subconsciously recognized eternity in the other – gave you some advantages, such as recognizing that flicker of guilt across his eyes before disappearing. You don’t relent in your assault as you both ignore Aether and Paimon in the background tensely watching. “You owe us. That explanation at the Golden House and Rite of Parting was crap.”

"But Mr. Zhongli told us everything - "

"He gave us half the story, Paimon," you growl. "Isn't that right? How deep in with the Fatui were you? What did you tolerate?"

The air grows thick as memories of each Fatui camp obliterated run through your mind. You barely managed to stomach reading even half of the detailed accounts on the experiments conducted within Liyue. His eyes flick to the bags around your eyes, then towards the journal hanging by your side.

Zhongli’s fingers rap his table as his nostrils flare. Good. You got him on edge. Still, before you can say more, he relents and you try not to be disappointed. He knows when he is faced with an immovable mountain. With no more protest, Zhongli rummages for spare paper and ink before pulling both out and writes up a quick contract with a few lines of promises for total honesty. The pen narrowly avoids tearing the paper with the pressure. As he hands the paper to you, he never meets your eyes as he says, “It is important to me that you know I was authentic with you after Osial’s defeat. I hope this reassures and appeases your curiosity. If a physical symbol is required for what I have always given you, starlight, then so be it.”

Each word of his grows softer, yet only digs deeper daggers into your heart. Starlight. His own nickname for you to mirror Tartaglia’s pretty bird, yet you didn’t know why or how it came to be. Regardless, you take the contract and inspect his signature. Grabbing the pen from his hand – and with barely a flinch at his fingers lingering near yours – you sign your own name. “… Not always, clearly. It’s done,” you murmur and bring the contact with you to the fire behind him. All other parties in the room watch as you shuffle closer to the fire, ears straining for your next words that are nearly drowned in the incessant crackling. “You’re a lot like him, you know. Childe.”

Zhongli stiffens. “You have said so before.”

“You both see the world around you as means to an end, some limit to be pushed or some assessment to be passed. Is he… is he as bloodthirsty as you were, too? Back then?” He draws a sharp breath, though you don’t look behind you to see what expression he wears.

“… Yes. He is. I had expressed such sentiments to him before his departure. Childe only laughed, and… He told me that he knew there was a reason he liked me.” It takes all your willpower to not grip the contract any harder than you did, so you were proud of yourself, damn it. Still, you nod before tossing the contract into the fire.

Zhongli swiftly rises at that, and as you turn around, you watch his fierce eyes on you debate either questioning you or hurling a stone pillar towards you on pure instinct. Some habits die hard, it seems.

You only laugh, shoulders relaxing for the first time since Osial rose from the sea. “Zhongli.” He freezes, as if it were possible to become even tenser than he already is, and mouth parts lightly as you whisper his mortal name so sweetly. “All I needed to know was your willingness. I don’t care about contracts, I never even asked for it. Let’s not do that. It’s been six thousand years already, hasn’t it?”

He swallows thickly. “Yes. It has been.” Zhongli sits down and sweeps an arm out, gesturing for you three to take seats in front of his desk. Although you were the one to initiate the conversation, Aether and Paimon ask most of the questions while you keep your eyes glued to the desk in front of you. That didn’t stop you from feeling Zhongli’s eyes on you though, ever curious as to what was behind your own neutral complexion.

He taught you too well to hide your emotions; the thought alone is enough to crack the god of stone’s heart.

Unfortunately for the three of you, Zhongli can offer no explanation for their activities within Liyue. Although he was aware of some of their sickening actions, he was forced to turn a blind eye as he focused on the grander picture. Mortals needed to learn to handle affairs amongst themselves while he doubled his efforts in safeguarding what was personally important to him as he prepared to step down.

As you three were leaving his office – and after Paimon manages to convince Zhongli to pay for all her meals as recompense – you linger when you hear the former Archon call your name. When you turn back to see him, his own eyes aren’t meeting yours, but are instead taking the ring from around his thumb to place on the desk. What is the old idiot doing?

“I am not worthy of this gift,” he begins, closing his eyes as he shifts the ring forward. Copper floods your mouth from how tightly you bite your tongue then to keep from practically weeping at witnessing Zhongli attempt to give back the ring you gifted so many months ago. “You gave this to Childe and I as equal payment for our own gifts, yet you did this as promise to remain as true friends. I will not apologize for my actions, as I did what I believe to be right for Liyue as its Geo Archon.” His eyes open, resolute and vibrant. True to his word, there is no remorse for his manipulations. “As a mortal, however… I do not believe I have adequately upheld my end of the bargain. ”

Underneath his gloves, his knuckles go white from how tightly he clenches his fists in his lap.

“Zhongli…” You step forward to grab the ring before gently taking one of his hands. After unfurling his fist, you gingerly place the ring back in his palm. The ring you gave Zhongli is of a golden dragon wrapped around, biting its own tail. A symbol of eternity. For Tartaglia – Childe, you correct yourself, he was Childe then – you gave him a ring of silver and sea glass so brilliant, it acted as a mirror that could rival the ocean’s reflections. “Do you remember how Childe whined that my gift was impractical, compared to the utensils and bookmark?”

“Yes,” Zhongli says, smiling at the memory. “He complained that it would hinder battle as he gripped his bow.”

“Right. I said that it was so he would never forget how annoying I can be when I wanted to,” you giggle. “I gave this to you after you told me of how… of how all your friends forever shined like gold in your memories. I wanted to be like that too.” Before he could respond to your crack, you continue, purposefully cutting his thoughts off. “I know you promised to write Childe. He told me he made peace with you after bribery with some osmanthus wine. Something about learning how to be mortal, getting a chance to fight you, all that. He also told me he was ordered to keep you close as an asset, even if he didn’t understand why at the beginning. The Tsaritsa wants to keep tabs on your ‘progress’ and movements, I’m sure. For all of Tartaglia’s Fatuiness, he’s not very secretive about that sort of stuff. Guess he was glad to be done with those lies.”

Zhongli doesn’t respond and watches your face as you speak, so you took this as a cue to continue your speech as you withdrew your hands. You meet his gaze then. “I want you to let him know that I won’t try to make contact with him. I made my peace with him while Teucer was here, I harbor no bad blood. We were both pawns.” You ignore how Zhongli’s throat bobbed. “But I can’t keep contact with him. Not now, at least, not with where our mission is heading.”

After a long moment, the Geo Archon closes his eyes, before reopening to the imperial gaze the statues of him around the country forever etched. You both knew this was little more than a game, though. Nothing could make you bend the knee to any god before, why would you now? “Will you still visit me in Liyue?” he asks. For all of his age, you marvel at how lost he sounds.

A god who never learned how to be vulnerable, to be human.

“Yes, I promise, because you’re my friend.”

---

After that, the weeks crawled by, but you kept your promise. Ningguang saw fit to reward you, Aether, and Paimon with a reserved room in the finest inn at Feiyun Slope for whenever you passed through, as befitting of the Heroes of Monstadt and Liyue. Though the three of you collapsed on the floor in the apartment and wept honest-to-gods tears of joy of not having to open your wallet for once, you saw this as a cosmological suggestion for you to begin your journey of forgiving Zhongli.

Which, no, that was a lie actually. You knew deep down you already forgave Zhongli, that wasn’t the issue.

Long after Paimon retreated to her own bed tucked amongst an ungodly amount of pillows and blankets set in one of the larger windows, Aether sat you down in another windowsill to ask you honestly about your feelings on Zhongli and Childe. Thank the stars you knew Aether for centuries because he opened his arms instinctually as you sniffled and crawled over, burying your head into his chest as tears flowed openly for the first time since you both lost Lumine. After apologies and please let me wash your scarf I’m sorry I made it gross and no don’t you dare I ruin your shirts all the time, you began to confess how, for the first time, you felt dually matched tit-for-tat in these two men.

Tartaglia reminds you of the joys of adventures, of youth, of the difference between surviving and being alive while Zhongli gives you the stability that a mountain eternal would. He beckoned you through the history of Liyue with a warm smile, shared in your long conversations with Aether on the nature of life well into the night against the dawn, and stood steadfast as warden against your own anxieties of eternity despite not knowing then of his own timeless status.

Could it be helped that you fell as quickly as a star, set aflame with hopes of something more?

Yet, once again, luck proved to not be on your side. You remember in the days leading up to the battle with Osial at discovering how Zhongli and Childe would share long conversations or made time for meals regardless of busy schedules. Though you confessed to Aether that you recognize it was because both wanted to keep tabs on the other without revealing their ulterior motives, it didn’t fail to ignite anxiety, especially now that you knew Zhongli maintained correspondence with Childe, despite the former’s insistence that it was strictly friendly and contractual.

Stars, could you have felt any more like a selfish kid then? To want both men left you feeling equal parts angry with yourself and with them. How dare you allow yourself to get close to them? You should have left the socializing to Aether, fuck.

Combined with the fact that both men betrayed everyone involved and were shy of brawling each other in the Golden House, you couldn't help but feel that most - if not all - of the memories made were false. Bloodthirsty, warmongering, and ruthless in pursuit of their goals. Did they really care for any but themselves?

Aether held you tightly that night, singing songs in your shared native tongue that sounded of bells and twinkling glass to lull you into a fitful sleep. In the weeks after, you grew to become friendly with Zhongli once again, and if Aether didn’t know you any better, he would have said you moved on.

Except he did know you better.

Despite his own attempts at explanation, he knew you had to see for yourself what both he and Paimon witnessed during those long months spent in Liyue with Childe and Zhongli. He knew how frustrated the Harbinger and ex-Archon would grow, restless in their seats if you took too long escorting Paimon around the city to collect snacks. Aether got along like fire to a wooden house with the other two, all wit and not-so-professional humor. However, knowing that he fulfilled the diplomatic role to help others, you took the opportunity to try to irritate Childe where you could – at first because of his Fatui status, until it evolved into you and the Harbinger competing to elicit a laugh from present company without throwing hands.

While Aether certainly didn’t like to pry where it wasn’t his business – that was Kaeya’s modus operandi, thank you – he sometimes wondered if Childe and Zhongli viewed you and Aether as the guide to that murky area between mortal and divine. Their robust characters more than once reinforced his idea that Visions reflected personalities rather than the nation’s sovereign ruler. By extension, when he thought about how water crystalizes geo, he concluded that the speed Childe and Zhongli summoned shields and attempted to break them in a conversational dance whenever they were together was due to some deeper, instinctual urge.

That, or they were just nearly the same brand of deceitful, halfwitted idiots.

Perhaps that was why they felt comfortable constructing such a close friendship. To both of them, this merely played into some larger façade, all while convinced that the other was entirely fooled by the thick shield. Aether laughed to himself. The morons got so tangled in mental games, they unknowingly built a true and dependable relationship, if the blatant stress between them in the Golden House was anything to by.

Aether was not born yesterday. He didn’t survive these many millennium by not carefully observing the inhabitants of each world they visited. He is friendly, yes, but not ignorant. And how could he fault you for trying to find some sliver of happiness here, even if it was temporary? Stars above know his own heart ached each night.

That was why he was so sure you felt as comfortable around them as you did with Paimon and himself. The traveling troupe acted as a pacifying force for whatever the hell was going on between Childe and Zhongli being head deep in manipulations. In the little ragtag gang of the three travelers, none of you held tolerance for any bullshit and welcomed only peace, in whatever form a Fatui Harbinger and Geo Archon could manage.

He personally never doubted the authenticity of any sentiments, any stories expressed in conversations between all of you, even if you were now swimming with mistrust. The loneliness of not being able to trust anybody... He doesn't know if he can take much more abandonment after Lumine's entrapment. Everyone holds their own secrets, what they share always has a sliver of truth. Lies are built on that. By extension, Aether had no doubts that Childe and Zhongli were equal parts stubborn, righteous, and fucked up in their own uniquely Teyvaten ways.

At this point though, weren’t you all? Aether glumly drew his gaze upwards to the peak of the mountain. All of this for a five-thousand mora commission? Whoopee.

When the three of you grew closer to Dragonspine, he fell behind to gather tinder for a cooking fire to shake himself out of these deeper thoughts. As Aether returned, he couldn’t help his open fascination as Paimon played dodgeball with the small stones you were hurling at her when she kept commenting on your stove-building skills instead of helping.

In a hidden blessing, some things will never change. While rummaging through his subspace storage, the smile on his face quickly falls when he realizes –

“Guys. We have a problem.”

notes:

1) According to the game, starconches let you hear the ocean, no matter where you are. In a lot of religious texts (Buddhist, Egyptian, Mesopotamian, etc), the oceans are referenced as the bridge between heaven and earth, i.e. "bridge between worlds"

2) In one of childe's voicelines, he specifically references the Traveler wielding a lot of unusual powers without a vision

3) One of the MC's voicelines also references how time in Teyvat seems to be quicker with the days being so short

love yall <3

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x childe #childe #childe x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #zhongli fanfiction #childe fanfic #zhongli fanfic #aether #genshin zhongli #genshin aether #genshin childe

19 notes · View notes

keigoslego · 4 years ago

Text

Kaminari x Male Reader

I had the need to write something about getting high so uh why not use Denki C: Also uhhh he do be kinda dominate but cute about it

Warnings: Smoking, Uh my poor exucse of a hand job

You stare at Kaminari, he is what you would describe as a casual stoner. You knew this before you started dating him yet it always amazed you how pretty he looked with his eyes half-lidded and smoke billowing out of his mouth. You’ve tried it only a couple times but chickened out before you actually got high. He was always welcoming you to try with him though, whenever he would bring out his stuff he would invite you to the couch with him.

However this time, he held a pen in his hand. He held it up to his lips, nimble fingers on the button as he inhaled. Catching your stare he smiles after the smoke leaves his mouth, “You wanna try?”

You swallow dryly, “H-How?”

He giggles and pulls you down next to him, “you press the button here,” he guides your finger to the button on the side, “press it while you inhale.”

Following the somewhat vague instructions you nervously place the pen to your lip and press the button. Inhaling slowly you let the smoke in your lungs before coughing them out. Kaminari chuckles, rubbing your back as you wheeze the smoke out.

“Why does it still burn,” You cough. Kaminari hands you some water and you gladly drink until the burning is a dull throb on the back of your throat. He takes the pen out of your hands and takes another hit with a sigh, relishing the taste on his tongue.

“You’re still not used to it silly,” Kaminari grins. He wraps his arm around you before he takes another deep hit. He leans in and kisses you, letting only a small amount of smoke escape him before you gasp at his hand slightly pinching you. It invades your lungs once again, tickling the back of your throat.

Kaminari hums, placing the pen in your hand. He coaxes you to take another hit and as it leaves your lungs you start to feel almost hyper aware of his closeness to you. His hair was pulled back with a clip, he wore nothing but a pair of boxers and his t-shirt.

“Pretty,” You mumble.

“You feel it now hm?” His voice was suddenly lower. When did his voice get so husky? You blink a couple times and reach up to his face.

You giggle, “I think so?”

He kisses your hand, “Yeah?”

His lips were so...soft. Why was he so pretty for? You lean up to kiss him again with a sudden hunger forming in your stomach. His mouth moves against yours like honey, it was slow.

You couldn’t help but to moan into the kiss when he pushed you down on the couch, “You feel good,” you mumble against him. He lets out an amused huff and licks your bottom lip. You let your mouth fall open to allow his tongue to explore the familiar space. The grip around your waist weakens as he slowly sits up.

“You get a ‘lil naughty when you’re high don’t ya,” He palms the tent in your pants and grins at the whimper that falls out of your mouth, “not that I mind.”

The white hot pleasure mixed with this fuzzy feeling that you couldn’t explain had you a babbling mess. Your mouth only dripped with praises and choked moans when he worked his skillful hands around your cock.

He leaned in once again to blow more smoke into your mouth, which you gratefully take in. Letting more of the chemicals swirl around in your system. It only made the pleasure burn hotter in your gut.

He spit on his hands before pumping harder, reducing your babbles into just moans. He loved the way you fell apart under his touch. Your hair slicked to your forehead from the sweat, the face he loved drawing twisted in pleasure. He could cum just from the view you blessed him with.

“D-Denki,” You pant out. He twists his hand hard every time you bucked up into him only to hush you with small kisses. You’re flushed cheeks only spurred him on to go faster.

He carefully activates his quirk on your tip, which caused you to let out a choked scream. The coil in your gut kept winding and winding-- you were so close yet, he kept a tight grip with a innocent smile, “You gonna cum for me baby?”

“I-” You shudder at the surge of electricity once again, “I can’t,” you cry.

He tilts his head and frowns, “Why’s that baby?”

“I du-dunno,” You wail when he spits once again, mixing it with your pre-cum. Somehow he always got you so sensitive by the end of each encounter like this. He loved hearing you cry for him, to beg him for more.

He takes the pen with his other hand, pressing on the power button. It was another deep hit, just to sate his desire for his lungs to be filled. He would never tell you that he knew what you thought of him smoking. He could always tell, the shift in your eyes...when you would start to press your thighs together-- anything for that delicious friction you didn’t know you were chasing.

“Well,” His movements going to a painfully slow pace, “That’s not good.”

You whine and buck up, “pleasepleaseplease”

He smiles at your neediness, “I thought I was doing something wrong,” He pauses to lean to your ear, “What do you want me to do?”

At this point you were too turned on and high to care about shame, everything was swirling around your head and the orgasm was slowly dwindling away. You kiss at the corner of his mouth, “I want you to touch me,” your breath shook with arousal, “I want you to k-kiss me.”

Kaminari picks the pace up, “How much do you want me to touch?”

You squirm under him, the white hot pleasure building rapidly, “I’m gonna c-cum,”

“Yeah?” He kisses you again, muffling the praises falling off your tongue. The heat ran like a chill up your spine. You shudder with each stoke he gave to help you ride out your orgasm, “such a naughty little prince huh?”

“Y-Yes”

#bnha x reader #bnha #mha #bnha smoking #denki #kaminari denki #kaminari smut #kaminari #mha x reader #male reader #Smut #mha smut #bnha smut

204 notes · View notes

notgonnarememberthis · 4 years ago

Text

Playtime’s Over

For @bellamyssapphic

NAOMIIIIIIIII It's your birthday!!!!!!! Happy birthday!!! I'm so happy to have gotten to know you over the past few weeks and that I had the opportunity to write this for you! You've been so nice and supportive and I just honestly wanted to do something a lil special for your birthday. I hope you have a wonderful day full of treats and gifts!!

Also ofc shoutout to Em for helping me beta this, thank you for tossing around ideas with me and giving me some brilliant ideas. You are so fucking special as always.

“Jessica.” Nicolas’s voice rolls like venom as she steps in. “I’m not going to lie, I was expecting Malcolm.” Her eyes fall on Ainsley who’s shaking. A single tear rolling down her cheek as she stares straight ahead.

“He’s not coming. Just me.”

“Mom.” Ainsley’s voice is strained. He grips her arm and it takes every bit of self control not to rip it right off.

“Ainsley has nothing to do with this. Let her go.”

“Why?”

“Because you have me now. This is what you wanted. My son is on the run for a murder he didn’t commit, Martin is in Rikers and will probably die there. I’m all that’s left. She’s innocent.”

“No Whitly is innocent.” He growls but he releases her arm. Ainsley runs to her wrapping both arms tightly around her torso. She brushes her hair aside with a sad smile holding her just as tightly.

“Take care of your brother.” Jessica whispers and Ainsley breaks down in sobs refusing to let go. “Go baby.”

“No!”

“Go.” She pulls her by the shoulders kissing her on the forehead. Ainsley’s face crumples, it reminds her so much of when she would scrape her knees insisting that her kisses would make them better. She hopes that this one will make it better. “Malcolm needs you.” That settles it Ainsley’s eyes. Protect Malcolm. She has to go protect Malcolm.

The two of them know he hadn’t actually left. He’s at the hospital, only aware of Gil fighting for his life in the other room. No idea why she left or where she went. No idea that while he went to get coffee, his phone had chimed with an urgent message from Ainsley to come home. No idea that when he returned, she would be gone. He’ll know when Ainsley arrives. He’s always been so observant.

The silence drapes across the room, a delicate calm settled between the two of them. Jessica feels anything but, with her heart thundering in her chest and Gil’s blood still staining her clothes. She’d sent Ainsley here for new clothes. She sent Ainsley to him. The guilt rages across her filling her with anger and grief all at once.

“You won’t get away with this. The police are getting a warrant now.” His laugh bounces off the walls. An empty sound that smacks her in the chest. He almost sounds like Martin.

“They won’t find anything.”

“They will take you down.” The threat comes out with a low growl, the bass echoing in her stomach.

“Who will? Your lieutenant? Your son? They will be taken care of soon.” His words send ice down her spine making her freeze up. What the hell does that mean? “Come now, you didn’t think I’d believe Malcolm would run. He’s too headstrong, too stubborn. Too much like his mother.”

She inches closer to the dresser lining the walls. She needs to do something to calm her heart. A drink. She needs a drink. He steps closer as she opens the drawer, her fingers finding the cool metal that lies inside. Her heart sinks at the weight in her palm. He doesn’t see, she hopes he doesn’t at least. That’s all she can hold onto. That he’s so blinded by himself that he can’t truly see.

“It would only take a single text. All of your family will be gone by the end of the night. The lieutenant, your bastard of a son, and your nosy daughter.” She takes a deep breath and finally, her heart slows. Blissfully, she can think. “Give it up Jessie. You can’t stop me.”

Three sharp blasts is actually all it takes. Crimson spots forming quickly on his white shirt. His face shifts from confusion, to pain, to panic all in a matter of seconds. Nicholas stumbles back, falling when his legs no longer support him. Her ears ring painfully; she never imagined a gun would be that loud.

She watches from afar as he takes two wheezing breaths before they stop all together. He lies painfully still while his blood stains the rug that’s been in her family twice as long as she has. The only thing she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears as the world thunders back to life. She doesn’t even hear the voice calling out to her.

Everything rushes back all at once when she spies the figure standing in the doorway. Adolpho’s eyes are widened, flashing between her and the body. Panic settles in as she realizes what she just did. She had killed Nicolas Endicott. She had shot him three times and watched him die in her living room. “I had to.” She whispers, horrified. She’s not sure if the assurance is for Adolpho, or herself. “He was going to kill them.”

She’s not sure what she expects. Yet he nods, his jaw set. “We’ll take care of it.” She doesn’t know what that means, part of her is too afraid to ask when he takes the gun from her all too calmly. She wonders if he knew this would happen.

She wonders if he always knew it would be her in the end.

Adolpho smashes the phone that had fallen just out of Nicolas’s reach. Part of her knows she needs to warn Malcolm, at least Dani about the impending danger. Just because he couldn’t text the person anymore doesn’t mean they’re safe. She needs to make sure that they are safe. Yet her entire body feels like lead. It’s too easy to remain there staring at the glassy eyes of a man who choked on his own hubris as he laid bleeding on her floor.

It all moves too quickly after that.

It’s hours later when she finds herself in the field. The body and her rug reek of gasoline, the scent so strong it permeates the nature around them. She doesn’t ask how Adolpho knew to do all this. Her father had hired him after Martin. He’d insisted it was for her protection. How the hell was a driver for her own protection? She was too tired to argue back then. She wonders briefly how many secrets the Milton’s held too as she strikes the match.

It falls sending smoke billowing into the night sky.

UH OH!! END CARD?! Surprise this is actually a part of a larger series coming out later!!! Murder family AU has begun. Buckle in babes

#prodigal son #prodigal son AU #jessica whitly #nicholas endicott #ainsley whitly #murder family au #gift #murder family #it's begun babes #stay tuned #this is just the beginning #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic

16 notes · View notes

i-want-all-the-cookies · 3 years ago

Text

A/N: Not gonna lie, I kinda struggled with this one. But hopefully it's not too bad and you guys enjoy it anyway. 😬

Fairytale Inspired

Word Count: 2.4 K

Helmet blew the hot, smoked filled air from his lungs. The dark, gray clouds gathering at his face with each breath he took. Before a wayward wind dragged them away and out into the opened lit area, right outside of the underpass. An act he clearly wasn't grateful for as he pounded his thick green fist into the ground below his calloused feet.

He had just joined the Yoosun clan, one of the four major waring tribes of the Yeongdeungpo region, and he had yet to prove himself. And if that wasn't bad enough, Yoosun was lead by none other than Jimmy the Prideful. A vicious chieftain, who ruled with bloodied fist, and who expected results and obedience without question.

Helmet knew better than to return to his clan empty handed. Not only because of the ridicule he would face from his fellow kin, but because of the severe punishment he would receive. And he knew from past experience that his Prideful chief never held back his punches, especially if he had an eager audience watching. Which he always did.

Helmet's claw touched at his crooked nose in painful memory, as another billow of smoky air escaped his lungs. He pounded the ground again in agitation. Why had he been the one tasked with bringing Ben from the Eunjang clan back? As if it was that easy. Everyone in the surrounding areas knew how much of a berserker Ben was. Plus there were far stronger trolls and orcs in Yoosun, that were much more capable than himself. Even though he would never admit that part out loud.

But at least he was lucky in receiving some inside intel from Phillip the Greedy, that Ben was known to frequent this specific underpass often. So all he had to do now was wait, and try to ambush him before he caught on that he was there.

So Helmet once again crept into the shadows of the underpass. And even though the brick structure wasn't like the rock and wooden bridges he used to frequent in the countryside, it still provided plenty of shadows and spots for a troll like him to hide in.

God he hated the city, and the new ordinances that tried to enforce all creatures to behave more civilized. And he hated even more that all of the Yeongdeungpo chieftains had agreed to such a shit treaty. Long gone were the days were he could rip a helpless creatures limb from limb before gobbling them up. And of course, after that came the peace and the beginnings of tall buildings, paved roads, and even damn street lights to light up the night. Fuck! He hated it soo much he could just spit out fire, he thought to himself as another cloud of smoke escaped his lips, and he was about to do just that when he heard some clippity clacks of an approaching creature.

Helmet swallowed up his heat and hid from sight. Waiting until he seen a very skidish faun approaching, and stoping right at the underpass entrance. As if debating whether to proceed or not.

Helmet smiled to himself. The new ordinances could keep him from eating up any small creatures, but it definitely couldn't stop him from tormenting them.

So he took a step out of the shadows and called out just as the Faun made eye contact with him. "Hey you! Lil bitch over there!" he yelled out. "Dont run! Don't you dare run."

The Faun froze and Helmet's smile grew wider "Bring your goofy ass over here." he called out with a hand wave.

The Faun hesitated long enough for Helmet to reach an arm out and grab him by the shirt collar. He grimaced at the touch of the cloth. "Geez how do you guys even tolerate this stuff?" he questioned more to himself than to the faun in his grip.

But the shaking faun not knowing answered anyway. "I-it's not so bad. The material is light and soft."

Helmet scrunched up his nose in distaste as he looked at the miserable creature in his grasp. Small and thin, with the normal hoofed feet and brown fur as most other fauns, but this one had glasses as well. "What's your name?"

"I'm Eugene. Eugene Gale."

"Hmph. Well Eugene Gale, Aint ya a bit small even for your kind?"

Eugene bristled for a second before he locked eyes with Helmet's beady black ones and looked away. He then quickly began to fumble with the glasses on his nose. "M-maybe just a little." he paused for a second before quickly adding. "But, I'm definitely too small to make a meal out of!"

Helmet froze and he blinked his eyes once before throwing his head back in laughter. "Well that's not a lie!" he bellowed out as he patted Eugene on the back, with enough force to send him hurtling towards the ground.

Then as abruptly as Helmet's laughter had started it stopped, and with surprising speed, Helmet swooped in and pulled Eugene up by his collar again. Holding him up, hooves not touching the floor anymore, as Helmet placed his face right in front of Eugene's. "You're no good to me even as a measly toothpick." He breathed out.

Hot scalding air hitting Eugene's face, as smoke rose out from behind Helmet's yellow stained teeth. "But you can definitely help me out by handing me whatever's in your wallet. Ya know, for my time and troubles."

Eugene gulped loudly before he started nodding his head and reaching for his wallet. Shaking hands trying to open it up only for Helmet to pick it from his grasp, as he let Eugene fall unceremoniously to the ground below.

Helmet opened the wallet and removed all of the money from it, before tossing it to the ground next to Eugene. "Alright. Now stop wasting my time and scram." he roared out.

Eugene scampered to his feet, as he collected his wallet and rushed away.

Helmet shook his head as he watched Eugene's retreating form, before crouching away to his hiding spot, where he counted out his plunder. Not bad, he tought to himself as he pocketed the money into his own wallet. Maybe if he was lucky he could keep collecting money from other passerbys, as he waited for Ben's arrival. A wide grin set on his face as he leaned further back into the shadows.

Helmet didn't have to wait long before he heard more steps approaching. This time instead of the clippity claps of hooves it was light and broad scraping of nails. Helmet stretched his neck to see who was walking closer, only for his eyebrows to raise at the sight of a bright red feathered Basan. With it's comb raised ridiculously high before it flattened out on the top.

Helmet tilted his head to the side as he debated whether the Basan's up do made him look more like a feather duster or a broom, before he shook his head of the thought and spoke out instead. "You!"

The Basan startled back a step at the sound and turned his head. "Wh...what?" he stammered out, eyes widening as he saw Helmet step out of the shadows and eye him up slowly.

"What's with you Eunjang guys huh? Are all of ya just as bunch of pathetic shits around here?"

The Basan's feathers ruffled as he put his winged hands up. "What? Um... I'm actually not from Eunjang... Yet..."

Helmet twisted his mouth as he came in closer. "Then what are you? Not yet you say? Are you a fucking idiot? Then are you gonna be from there later? Don't you know how to speak properly?" Helmet took another step until he was right in the Basan's face and he quickly continued without giving the Basan a moment to reply. "Come to think of it, you just have a really punchable face-. You wanna die, fuckface?"

The Basan held his winged hands up higher to his face as he trembled. "N... no... I'm just..."

Before the Basan finished speaking, Helmet saw a quick flash of bright red, followed by the sound of a deafening crunch as the bone in his nose was broken again.

He soon found himself on his knees, as he blinked his eyes furiously as they welled up with tears from the impact. Blood started rushing from his nose, in a thick stream down his face and the back of his throat.

As he coughed to try to regain his breath and composure he felt a slight tap on the top of his head. Helmet strained through his watery eyes to look up into the cocky Basan's face.

"Yo... Keep talking. Keep talking that shit. Bet ya thought I packed no heat huh." The Basan stated brazenly before he paused for a second and murmured to himself, as he rubbed his chin in thought. Not paying any mind to Helmet's continued choking. "Uh... Where was I going again?"

As if a light went off in his head he straightened up and started flapping his wings excitedly. "Oh right! I'm supposed to meet Eugene!"

Helmet watched ineptly as the Basan briskly strode away, triumphantly praising himself, until he was out of sight.

When he was finally able to catch his breath and clear his eyes, Helmet let out a low growl that moved through his chest before it spilled out from his mouth. "That's it! I'm seriously murdering the next creature that crosses my path! I don't give a shit about the ordinances and laws anymore. I want fucking blood!" he grumbled out angrily before spitting out a big glob of mixed up blood, snot, and saliva to the floor.

He found his old spot in the shadows of the underpass again, and sat back on his haunches. His anger and frustration growing with each passing minute, until he heard an approaching sound. Without hesitation he jumped out, arms spread wide, as he blocked the incoming creature's path. Only to come face to face with a pale white basilisk.

It was a small, skinny, petite basilisk but Helmet couldn't help the chill and utter dread that coursed through his body, as his eyes locked with the basilisk's vibrant violet ones.

Helmet's eyes shifted slightly to the side, and he was about to step out of the way before shame and anger started to wash over him, and he let out a loud huff and stood his ground instead. Returning his sights onto the small figure and he shook his head with indignation. It was such a punny creature. So why where all his instincts practically yelling at him that this creature was dangerous? Just how in the world could that be possible?

The Basilisk in turn let out an annoyed sigh as he waited. Which made Helmet glare back in offended anger, and he steeled his resolve as he strolled over. "The infamous Eunjang territory really must be as nasty as they say? For even a twig like you to be acting all tough."

He let out a throaty chuckle as the Basilisk kept quiet. His face unimpressed by the words or the mocking tone in Helmet's voice. Which only infuriated Helmet more, and he reached out and slung an arm over the Basilisk's shoulder. Pulling him deeper into the underpass.

"Get over here- cool guy." Helmet chuckled. His green lips forming into a shape that looked more like a snarl than a smile as he roughly started patting the top of the Basilisk's head. "Look at you still keeping up your cool-as-fuck face. Hey. Do your little sigh into the distance again. Huh?"

The Basilisk remained quiet, his soft silver hair fluttering with each harsh pat that was given. The continued silence automatically giving Helmet the strength to keep going as the corners of his lips rose higher. "Ya know I got an idea. How about you show me your tears. Then I might just let you go. Sounds good right?"

The Basilisk looked up to give him an icy glare. Then without warning he snatched Helmet's hand and slammed it against the brick underside of the overpass, and quickly pinned it in place with a sharp claw.

It took a millisecond for Helmet to process what had happened, before he started screaming in pain, and he desperately yanked his hand free.

The Basilisk didn't hesitate and responded with an added whip of his tail onto Helmet's head. Causing blood to rush down his face as he bent over and held his injured hand. Helmet gasped between breaths as he struggled to get air into his lungs from the pain and the shock he had just suffered.

A second later Helmet let out a loud shriek, as he felt a strong pull on his hair as the Basilisk quickly yanked his head upwards. Bringing his face level with it's own. The Basilisk's violet eyes roamed Helmet's face, and he grimaced in disgust as he took in the blood, tears, and mucus running down towards Helmet's chin. "Quit bitching. What's wrong? Want me to call your mama? Huh?"

The Basilisk paused as he waited for a reply, but all Helmet could do was to continue to choke on his own snot and fears. After a minute the Basilisk released his hold on Helmet's hair, sending him crashing down to his knees. He gave Helmet one last cold stare with his piercing eyes, as if daring him to try anything stupid, before he started to slither away.

Helmet stayed on the hard ground even minutes after he had regained his regular breathing. Still feeling stupefied as he reached up and wiped at the blood and sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.

If this is how the weaker Eunjang residents behave then he really stood no chance against a Berserker like Ben, he thought to himself, as he finally rose from the grime covered road.

He shook his head and dusted his hands clean as he began to retreat. Out and away from the dark underpass as he continued down the road.

'Fuck Ben. If Jimmy wanted him that badly he could come for him himself!'

Helmet paused once to look back at the underpass before quickly turning away again.

'Fuck it. Maybe I can join the Hyeongshin clan? I hear that their leader, the cunning and massive minotaur known as Forrest, is a lot more practical anyway. I'm sure I can climb the ranks faster over there.'

#I would feel sorry for Helmet #if he wasn't such an ass #fairytale remake #fairytale inspired #Halloween inspired #Weak Hero #Helmet #Harper Ha #Eugene Gale #Rowan Im #Gray Yeon #fantasy #webtoons #the three billy goats gruff #Happy Halloween!

5 notes · View notes

blessedboo · 4 years ago

Text

F&MU | Angel Reyes.

Angel Reyes x Reader

GIF Credit: To the original creator - (I think @angels-reyes)

Summary: A situationship w/ Angel based on the lyrics of F&MU by Kehlani.

Requested: No.

Warnings: Swearing/Language. TOXIC. Mutual pining. Angsty. Smut (18+ NSFW Content) - on the rougher side, hate-fucking, light choking etc.

Word Count: 1.7K - Got a lil’ carried away, hehe.

A/N: I want to emphasize that I do not condone nor romanticize this relationship! It was a perspective I wanted to explore, to try something new and get out of my comfort zone a little. This was a BITCH to write, I don’t deal with angst well + it’s my first songfic. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy reading it!

We both know it's never really goodbye I swear it's like we do this all the time, yeah That shit be turnin' me on, I cannot lie, lie

“Say the words, and I’ll fucking leave,” Angel spat, his face inches away from yours.

Accompanying his dominating presence, ragged breaths furiously beat down on you. Maybe it was the way his dark eyes bore into yours with such intensity, maybe it was the gruffness of his post-sex voice; whatever it was, it turned you on.

“Get the fuck out, Angel.”

In other words: stay. But, he didn’t have to know that.

Angel’s eyes widened whilst his nostrils flared. You knew he wouldn’t like that answer, yet you gave it to him anyway. When Angel didn’t get what he wanted, it made it all the more fun when he did. With you, he took what he needed whenever he needed it, and you willingly gave yourself up for reciprocal pleasure. He wasn’t going to leave, he never could, and neither could you.

A couple of hours? A few days? Sure.

But, you always wound up in each other’s arms soon enough. Someone had to fuck the misery out of you, and it was always Angel.

In reality, the sex could only suffice for so long - it just made the emotional toll that much worse. The more you used each other, the greater the storm grew.

As his jaw tightened, a darkness loomed over him. It was a shadow of pent-up frustration, weariness … and lust. He hated himself for giving into you, chasing you. Angel’s entire being was wholly infatuated. No, addicted.

The damage was bad, but it hurt so good.

Angel grunted as he spun you around and shoved you against the wall. His hard chest pushed closely against you from behind. Shaky breaths escaped your lips before you bit down on your bottom one.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

Angel buried his face into your neck, his lips sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His thick, ringed fingers slowly skimmed from the back of your bare thighs to the curve of your ass. The hem of your shirt rode up under his salacious touch, and stopped just above the lacy, red thong — his favorite.

Two fingers slithered through the slit of your clothed center, pushing upwards ever so slightly. As you gasped, you felt him smirk at the feel of your arousal before hooking onto the fabric and pulling them down the length of your legs.

“If you want this back,” Angel’s lips grazed your ear, his hushed, low tone sending shivers along your spine.

“Come get it, baby.”

Angel stuffed your panties into the inside of his kutte. The sound of his boots walking away resonated within the cold room, leaving you to your own devices.

And can't nobody else do that for me Know I make it hard to ignore me Got the attitude, then put it on me Put it on me, yeah

The situationship you had with Angel was one that no former partner could compare to. Angel ignited a wildfire within you, an overwhelming flame that set your body, mind and soul ablaze.

Playing with fire, you were bound to get burned.

This back and forth was draining, but the need for each other was insatiable. If you two were going to go down, you were going to do it together. Especially if it meant him “going down” on you.

You had each other in an unspoken claim, but neither of you were willing to commit. You two treaded the fine line between hot and cold, love and hate.

Was it the fear of getting too intimate, too attached? Was it the impenetrable walls that had guarded both of your broken hearts? These were the questions you often asked yourself, but never long enough to consider being something real with Angel, something … fulfilling.

Sex was just a means to an end - the end of being anything more.

It was the other’s attention that you both craved. This was the fuel to the fire, a root to all of your fights more often than not. Selfishly and heartlessly, he did whatever he could to get yours, and vice versa.

Whether it was Angel making out with a chick on his lap, or some dude grinding on you as you sat on the bar top, it was always a heated competition. There was no interest in either counterparts, but nothing riled Angel up more than another man’s hands all over what was his, and his only.

By the end of night, a tipsy Angel was moody and broody, and that’s exactly what you wanted. Angel fucking you was at its best when he took his anger out, where aggression met fervour in a sensual dance of two naked, sweaty bodies.

Angel’s primal instincts kicked in as he stormed over to you in full stride. His eyes never left yours, even while he yanked the guy away from you. Angel roughly grabbed onto your knees before spreading them apart and stepping in between. He had a possessive grip on your chin, tilting it upwards in an uncomfortable angle.

“Traviesa,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Mouth. Open.”

Angel’s thumb dragged across your bottom lip, and you did as you were told. He held your face in both hands as he sloppily tongued you down. He groaned while sucking on your tongue, pulling it in between his teeth until he finally let go.

“If I ever catch you doing that shit again, I’ll be fucking her instead,” Angel pointed to the inebriated blonde he had left behind. “Got it?”

You nodded hastily, your lips slightly quivering at Angel’s behavior. Angel caught a glimpse of your actions, being one to notice everything about you. He sighed as his overpowering demeanor faded into an expression of hurt, a certain sadness hidden behind those brown eyes.

Angel cupped your cheek before placing a soft, chaste kiss on your forehead. You leaned into the warmth of his palm, which was quickly replaced with a feeling of nothingness.

“EZ will take you home tonight,” he said coldly.

As your eyes shot open, you saw Angel had made his way back to her.

"I hate you", turns into "I love you", in the bedroom We fuck and make up like it's Maybelline We do petty things Then mess up the sheets, yeah Can't lie, the sex fire when you in your feels (woo) Spice it up a little (ooh) Yeah, you know the drill (know the drill)

You were straddled on top of Angel, buttons flying off of his flannel as you tore it off. Angel chuckled darkly as he thrusted his hard, clothed dick onto your panty-covered pussy. You moaned out his name, your nails dragging across his bare chest. Angel palmed your ass and groaned as he rolled his hips against yours, impatiently grinding into you from below.

“Still hate me, mami?”

Angel’s fingers roughly shifted your panties to the side, plunging two of them deep inside your cunt. His hand rubbed tight circles on your throbbing clit as he watched his rings dive deeper into your wet pussy.

“Ah, yes!” You cried out as you finger-fucked yourself onto him.

“Mm-hm. Then fuck me like you mean that shit,” Angel rasped against your lips, catching your moans in his mouth in a long, steamy kiss. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently as he pulled you closer.

“I want you to ride me. Take that cock. Your cock, mami.”

You made quick work of freeing his thick, curved length, gasping as you finally slid onto him. Angel dangerously whispered a litany of filthy thoughts into your ear, thrusting himself as his cock helplessly twitched inside you.

You whimpered, his thickness filling you to the brim over and over again. He drove his dick into you mercilessly, panting wildly with every brutal snap of his hips.

“Fuck. Fuuuck. My fucking pussy. I own it,” he growled. “Tell me it’s mine!”

Angel’s heavy hands groped the swells of your breasts, feverishly massaging and pinching your nipples with crazed purpose. Bringing one into his mouth, his tongue swirled seamlessly around it, providing a sensation of pain and pleasure as he tugged it in between his teeth.

You shrieked in response. “It’s y-yours. All yours, baby. Ahh!”

Your pace quickened as you bounced up and down whilst fucking yourself onto him. Your walls clenched around him, squeezing him of his ability to hold on any longer. Angel hissed as he slapped your ass, lewdly spreading your ample cheeks apart, grunting as he saw his fat cock sinking into you, swallowing him whole.

“What is? What’s mine? Oh shit, oh fuck.”

Slap!

“It’s this tight little pussy, right? Dripping onto me. Creaming my fucking cock. That’s what’s mine.”

Your sobs and whines made Angel throw his head back as he indulged in his euphoria, animalistically slamming himself into your needy cunt whilst chasing his release.

“You’re gonna make me come, mi dulce. Make me come, that’s it. Just like that, fuck!”

—

It had been a couple of minutes since you had collapsed into each other’s arms. Both of your backs rested against the headboard, the blanket loosely wrapped around your torsos.

Angel sleepily took a drag off of his cigarette, a billow of smoke exhaled through his nose. He ran a frustrated hand over his face as he sighed deeply.

“Who did you go out with tonight?”

“Why does it matter, Angel?”

“It fucking does. I want an answer.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you,” Angel agitatedly shifted onto his side, putting out the cigarette before switching the lamp off.

This was nothing out of the ordinary. Simply how most days started, and most nights ended.

I make you mad, mad, mad Why I gotta fuck you up to make you fuck like that? Pickin' fights so you can put it down like that

With every kiss, poison lingered on your tongues as they clashed together. The mutual agony fed off of one another in meaningless throes of passion, your intricately woven bodies latching onto the delicious hurt of it all.

As a consequence of trust issues and insecurities, neither of you felt worthy of the other, nor deserved a chance at true love. Not after treating each other the way you had been; it was too late - Angel was in too deep, and so were you.

Because to you, having a warm body was better than having nobody.

It destroyed him to be around you, but it killed him to be away. It was a vicious cycle, an unforgiving cyclone of toxicity.

However, all is fair in love and war. And what a war it was.

____________________________________________

MAYANS TAG LIST:

@ifoundmyhappythought @woahitslucyylu @starrynite7114@claytoncardenasbabymama @multiyfandomgirl40 @justlikebreathing @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @chibsytelford @fvckthisbxtchup @angelreyesgirl @sheeshgivemeabreak @awildcur @gemini0410 @lady-pswrld @hennessyauntie @thesandbeneathmytoes @abbiesthings @lilac-tea-time @itsamedeemoney @peaches007 @rebel-without-cause-x @mrs-losa

[Just ask if you’d like to be tagged!]

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes smut #angel reyes x black!reader #clayton cardenas #angel reyes imagine #mayans fx #mayans m.c.#mayans mc #mayans mc fanfic #x reader #songfic #x black!reader #x poc!reader

334 notes · View notes

katsukithme · 4 years ago

Text

Of Mugs and Men

~moved from old account~

Pairing: Denki Kaminari x Reader

Warnings: none! Denki bein a lil shithead. It's pretty fluffy

Summary: You can't find your favorite mug, and the culprit is being evasive. And a brat.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: I saw a tiktok where you call your s/o by their government name instead of like a nickname and they get all upset and it inspired me :) it also had denki written all over it

~♡~

"Hey Denki!" You call from the kitchen of your shared apartment, searching in vain for your favorite mug from the cabinet. You could have sworn you put it right here, in front of the others. Where in the hell could it have gone?

You've been looking for the damn mug all week, and it still hadn't turned up! Every room in the house had been searched, and you were convinced it had been stolen or broken or something. There was not a stone left unturned in this apartment and the mug was nowhere to be found. And if you didn't know what happened to it, that left one more culprit. Your boyfriend.

You wrinkle your nose as only silence meets your call, and you put your hands on your hips. You knew damn well he was home. He had gotten home a few hours ago, long day of being a pro hero leaving him absolutely spent. But he always came home to you with that dopey looking smile. Just like he had today.

"Denki! I know you can hear me!" You call a little louder, frowning when there was still no response. Hadn't you left him laying on the couch?

You wander out of the kitchen to your living room, and find the man himself laying on the couch all four limbs sprawled out to take up all the space. His hero uniform had been exchanged for a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, his hair swept back off his face. Then you got a good look at his face. He was pouting at you.

"Denki, what the hell?" You sigh, hands on your hips again. When you say his name he sours a little more, crossing his arms over his chest. Like a petulant child, you realize.

"What's got your panties in a twist, huh? You're giving me the cold shoulder." You observe, and he huffs loud and dramatic like. It took everything you had not to roll your eyes. Drama queen.

He grumbles something quietly, so quiet you really couldn't hear him. So you walk further into the living room, standing over him where he layed on the couch. Still pouting.

"What? Speak up, Denki, I can't hear you." You reply, a small laugh falling from your lips. You couldn't help it... the expression on his face was too funny.

"I said, that's not my name." He grumbles, puffing put his cheeks. You stare down at him, confusion written all over your features.

"What... what do you mean? I'm almost 100% certain that's your name." You reply, brow raised to the ceiling.

"Nope. It is not. I will not respond to that name." He insists, tilting his chin up stubbornly. You stare at him in bewilderment.

"That's your name though!" You protest, still not quite getting the picture. He sits up a little on his elbows, chest straining against the white t-shirt. God you loved those shirts.

He points to himself, eyes still locked on yours. Then, in all complete seriousness, he says:

"I'm baby. Not Denki."

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Waiting for him to start laughing falter in his pouty demeanor. But he doesn't... he means it wholeheartedly. When you don't say anything, he takes it upon himself to fill the silence and continue.

"I will also accept honey, sweetheart, my love, any of those really. I prefer baby, but I can be lenient." He states matter-of-factly, leveling his gaze with you. And you were trying very very hard not to start giggling.

"Baby, huh?" You drawl, stepping closer to the couch, arms crossed over your t-shirt clad chest. You had stolen one of his shirts before he got home, and it hung down to the middle of your thighs.

Denki huffs again, obviously being a stubborn brat about it. Sometimes you really thought having him as a boyfriend was like having a child. A whiny, needy, goofy troublemaking child.

"Yes. Baby. And you're lucky, I'll let you off with a warning this time. Just don't let it happen again." He grumbles, arms wrapping around your thighs when you get close enough. You try to swat his hands away, lighthearted giggles falling from your lips as he gives a firm pull, and you topple over onto his chest.

Warm hands skim up your thighs, rucking up the oversized t-shirt to your hips which he immediately covers with his large palms, kneading the flesh there. You hum slowly, your own hands flattening against his chest.

"You're so generous... baby." You snark, and he pinches your sides in retaliation, making you squeal.

"I know! Aren't you so lucky?" He retorts. "Now c'mere, baby deserves some sugar." He surges forward to capture your lips in a kiss, deep and breathtaking and still so sweet that you can't help but melt into it, into him, despite his entire headassery. You could feel the ghost of a smile on his own lips, and you knew that hearing you call him baby had solved the problem.

You pull away, pulling in soft panting breaths as his lips blaze a path along your jaw instead, busying his hands with rubbing patterns at your hips. He was getting awfully cheeky for someone who was oouting not even five minutes ago. You hum, head tilted, already more than willing to give in, but something was nagging at you.

"Baby..." you breathe, hand threading in that infamous yellow hair, giving a firm tug so he'd look at you. Which he does... but you almost wished you had let him be. The sight of him like that was enough to make you shiver.

His eyes were glazed over, half lidded and giddy with the feeling of your skin under his lips, which were kiss swollen and pink. He was looking at you like you hung the moon.

"Yeah, doll?" He mumbles, preening at the feeling of your hands in his hair, on his chest, anywhere.

"Do you know where my favorite mug went?"

He groans at your ruining the moment, head flopping back onto the pillows. "Is that all you wanted?" He whines, hands still tight around you to keep you in close despite you wanting to continue your search.

"Yes! It would have been simple if you'd have just answered me earlier instead of threw a fit like a brat." You quip, sitting up just enough to poke him firmly in the chest.

"You called me Denki! And my name is baby!" He protests, still absolutely set on this, and you groan.

"I just wanted to make coffee!"

"Use another mug. I dunno where yours is." He says, trying to keep a poker face, but you could see right through his lies. He was an absolutely terrible liar. Your eyes narrow.

"Where is the mug, Kaminari?" You state slowly, and his brows raise at you in slight surprise.

"Now what did I say-" his sentence was cut short when hou press your finger to his lips, shutting him up for a moment.

"Answer me. Where is my favorite mug?" You restate. He was fidgeting under your gaze, averting his eyes, the whole deal. You coukd easily tell he was the culprit, but you wanted to hear him say it. For closure purposes.

His lips part lightly and you remove your finger, face more than expectant of what he was going to say.

"Um so... I might have accidentally... broke it?" He squeaks.

Your face drops. Not in sadness, but in outrage.

"What?! That one was my favorite! I always keep it in the same place, I tell you all the time not to use it!" You protest, and he cringes at the confrontation.

"I didn't mean to! It was the only one left and you were at work, and I wanted hot chocolate so bad! But I didn't know you couldn't put that mug in the microwave and... it broke." He sputters out quickly, trying to stave off your anger. And you just stare at him for a moment.

The one thing that was most infuriating about Denki Kaminari was his ability to weasel his way out of trouble with you. All it took was those stupid puppy dog eyes and a little pout, and you were such a goner. You were pissed you couldn't stay mad at him.

"... you're lucky I love you." You grumble, and his face lights up like a Christmas tree when he sees you're not mad. Well, not super mad anyways. He wouldn't have to sleep on the couch!

"So..." he states slowly, biting his lip, "does this mean we're even?"

You look at him like he's the craziest son of a bitch in the world, and he's quick to explain himself.

"I mean! B-because you called me Denki! You call me by my government name, I break your mug and don't tell you for a week, we're even!"

You're up off his lap in seconds, much to his discontent.

"Hey, c'mon! Where are you going?" He whines, and you're reminded of a child once again, stubborn and always getting his way.

"To take a shower!" You call back, and when he goes to reply you're whick to talk over him. You already knew what he was going to ask.

"No! You're not invited!" The bathroom door closes and locks and he grumbles stubbornly to himself.

How could you do this to him? It was just a mug! Denying him the right to accompany you in the shower was just plain cruel.

His brooding thoughts are interrupted by the soumd of the lock clicking and the batbroom door opening, steam billowing from inside.

"Come on, sparky." You relent. He nearly trips over his feet he runs to the bathroom so fast.

Yeah... you weren't too mad.

#kaminari denki #bnha denki #bnha imagines #my hero fanfic #my hero academy fanfiction #denki kaminari #my hero academia kaminari #kaminari #denki kaminari imagine #bnha

48 notes · View notes

planetjisungie · 4 years ago

Text

détester- l.dh

characters; slytherin! haechan x gryffindor! reader ft. gryffindor! mark (its just a given at this point) and slytherin! jisung

summary; enemies to lovers, you and donghyuck had always just hated eachother. you dont know when it started, or why it started but it was starting to get annoying.

an; i WILL finish my hogwarts series tonight we only have chenle left but now we have more fluff than actual crack because simon says is playing

congratulations you have reached gryffindor level you lucky prick

only the finest gryffindor

you are the embodiment of courage, literally if there was a ditch and someone fell down while everyone was too scared to help them, youd dive in before they could even say ‘dumbledore’

and you just so happen to be the younger sister of mark lee

the infamous mark lee,, that is

lucky prick part 2

but one thing made you seem not so lucky

your sworn enemy, lee donghyuck

or haechan as he liked to be called because apparently all evil villains needed a fake name

thats what you said anyway, he just liked the name haechan for its meaning

but he was also the emodiment of a slytherin, ambitious, cunning, resourceful and he was a pretty damn good leader

hence him being the captain of the quidditch team (no we are not going down the jisung route)

you didnt actually know when you started hating him, in your first year he had just decided to tie your poor, poor cat like a pig for roasting (he was in his second year already)

mr snuggles was traumatized

after that day it was small things to annoy you

like when he put hair dye in your conditioner bottle, resulting in your hair turning out a seafoam green colour

which you actually didnt mind so the joke was really on him, you pulled that shit off

or when he put spiders in your school shoes

that was unpleasant

and he also put a cockroach in your pocket, scaring your poor best friend who was terrified of the creatures

jisung was shaking, he hates cockroaches

to this day you still didnt know why he was a slytherin, but you guessed it was because he was a pureblood, very ambitious and resourceful but not so scary

but today was no exception

you walked towards the gryffindor table, robe billowing behind you as if you were walking in a movie

you were a lee sibling, you were both good at literally everything and deserved all the praise on earth

you fucking go girl, i stan

jisung sat at your table, the gryffindors appeared not to mind, especially as he was actually super nice

"y/n haechan told me to give you this"

ah there it was

the small hufflepuff girl handed you the letter before scurrying off back to her table

"y/n im scared"

jisung was already frightened of what that letter would hold

and you were a good friend, who knew no good would come from that letter

so you shoved it in your pocket, letting it crumple up before turning back to your breakfast

rip donghyuck

that was a fat L for our boy

he just wanted your attention

at first at least, he just wanted to be noticed by you so he pulled the cat stunt, making sure he didn’t actually harm the creature because he is still a decent human being and the grey furry animal did nothing to him

but now he had taken things too far

and he realised that after the stunt he pulled which resulted in you

yes, you, the brave, courageous gryffindor, crying

yeah he fucked up

he casted an illusion spell that infiltrated your sleep, creating nightmares with your deepest fears

and he regretted that

prank gone wrong *nearly killed her* (not clickbait)

you were still pissed at him for that

but that letter in your pocket was no ordinary letter

it was a confession letter, because he; yes him, the infamous slytherin, was too scared to talk to you about it in person

yet you literally just crushed his heart

which he kinda deserved to be fair

but jisung sent you a grateful smile and you went back to your conversation of which cereal brand was better

the answer is obviously lucky charms or frosted shreddies pengers mate

so our baby slytherin needed to find another way to get his feelings across because he was failing

and brother mark was: not happy

mark was a friend of haechan but despite his complaints every goddamn time that he needed to stop his stupid jokes that weren’t actually jokes, he didnt listen

maybe he shouldve listened

mark knows best

apart from jenos fic, mark was a real bitch but this is mark 2.0

mark really doesnt know best

anyways moving on

its time for innovative hyuck™️

so its back to the drawing room, sitting next to yuta (his head boy) to discuss the next plan of action

cutie yuta felt that haechan opening up to him about his feelings was the biggest achievement during his time at hogwarts

so right, the next plan

it was to leave flowers on your bed and then when you turned around to see who put them there (hypothetically) he would be there and he could make his outstanding apology

but of course, this isnt some fanfiction where everything goes right

who do you take me for?

so later that day he gathered his flowers, tying them in a cute dark green ribbon

staying with the slytherin theme

and he put them on your bed

they were some seriously nice flowers

you noticed them as soon as you walked in and your heart swelled

unfortunately that wasnt the only thing that swelled

you were allergic to pollen, and your eyes had puffed up slightly, itching a little and you had some sniffles

that was another L for hyuck

and he ran, he fucking booked it out of his little hiding spot back to his common room aka the dungeon

"YUTA I FAILED"

"how the fuck do you fail giving someone flowers hyuck?"

"shes fucking allergic"

so you never found out who gave you flowers

but

but you did keep them, despite your obvious physical irritation to them

they were pretty :(((

so you pressed them into a random notebook you found, because seriously you couldnt just chuck them out

unfortunately for hyuck, he was not so slick to mark who narrowed his eyes on the boy

he knew something was up

what kind of torture device was flowers ?? this was too soft

and so he found out that the same boy who had been making your life a little

how should i say

s p i c y

had a fat crush on you and was just a pouty baby who wanted your love and attention

cute

mark didnt know whether to support this?? like ?? he knew that underneath your front of disliking the long legged boy, you had some feelings, maybe small but they were there

you wouldve called it fondness

because

i promise youre not a sadist or masochist

but you would see him in class

he was very focused and had a beautiful smile

and laugh

he may come across a little... stand offish and arrogant at first but hes actually a kind soul

from how he made a mess in the grand hall but when he thought everyone was gone, he stayed behind to help clean it, having fun conversations with the staff (elves? who tf cleans the great hall??)

that goddamn melodious laughter constantly ringing in your head

shawtys like a melody in my head

but moving on

you noticed the pranks he pull decreased

and that was because he was spending time with yuta and mark, planning the perfect, foolproof (unfortunately not jeno this time) way to confess

and he sent you small smiles ?? what ??

this is so unlike the hyuck you knew

like he did a 180

i did a full 180 baby crazy

i said this was gonna be less crackish but when regular comes on and you hear jaehyuns queso line you cant not feel qUirKy

(bbq- bb—s mY DIAMONDS I DONT NEED NO LIGHT TO SHINE- jungwoo)

okay so the next plan

you loved quidditch too, mainly because your brother was the captain for the gryffindor team

so the plan was for you to attend the slytherin v gryffindor match and

mark somewhat willingly agreed to have a friendly match so that hyuck could show off his skills

this was an awful plan

because it was raining the day of the match

so you and jisung huddled together for warmth, shivering as you watched the match

and hyuck couldnt feel worse, he felt like you were now going to be sick because of him

damn, you really couldnt catch a break

the groan of pure frustration yuta let out was amusing at least

he was just as invested in this as haechan at this point

like he was germinating a seed??? he was fathering this relationship

so with another L, haechan felt super super bad

and this baby cooked for you

he got his best friend jaemin to teach him how to make chicken soup

because you were actually not a herbivore

(thats the category i put vegans and vegetarians in)

omnivore tings

so he carried his little pot of soup, his fingers kind of burning as it was piping hot

he legit walked right past a suffering jisung in the slytherin dorm, the pot of soup still in hand not even sparing a thought about taking pity on the poor kid and giving him some

so he walked to your dorm, being let in by mark who was being big bro™️ and looking after your sick ass

you looked dead

pale skin, eyes closed, lips tinted blue, your body was shivering but you felt fucking boiling

peak peak times

but haechan still thought you looked gorgeous

mark vacated the dorms, leaving to his lessons so hyuck could look after you

this wasnt a plan ?? but hyuck rolled with it

setting his lil pot down he sat in a seat next to you, staring at your asleep awake form with closed eyes

his eyes held so much love and adoration for you, you really are lucky

he took off his robe, just sitting there in his shirt, trousers and green tie and watching you sleep

you were actually awake, just vibing and breathing to stay alive

and he had a lot on his chest

"i know ive been a massive prick to you and im really sorry. i know you’re asleep right now but im too much of a coward to say this to your face. i really only just wanted your attention because i seem to have feelings for you and i am sincerely sorry for going about it the wrong way"

your ears were {}

wide open

boy were you listening and taking this all in

oh shit

realizashun xx

so you fluttered your eyes open gently, watching his face morph into an expression of pure terror from his previous one of literal love

*whipping noise*

"youre awake!" he squeaked out, eyes darting around the room to look at anything but you

which you couldnt help but smile at

shifting to the side in your bed slightly, you lifted the covers, lazily patting the now open space

"c’mere"

your voice was kind of croaky and hoarse

that made hyuck feel guilty

baby it wasn’t your fault

but he complied, kicking off his leather school shoes and sliding besides you, staying as far away from you as possible

not to offend you, his heart was just going a million miles a second and there was no way you wouldn’t be able to hear it

this boy was like blushy sausage face part 2

arrogant hyuck has left the chat

you pouted seeing him shuffle away from you, shuffling to move yourself closer instead

power move, he either had to cuddle with you or fall off the bed

"can we just forget what i said earlier?"

that made you frown

the fuck?

hell no

"hyuck wait-"

"no dont bring it up its embarrassing"

whiny baby is back

"hyuck i-"

"nope nope nope nope"

"LET ME SPEAK FOR FUCKS SAKE"

he had no choice but to listen

your voice sounded strained already and he didnt want to make you feel worse

"i have feelings for you too you big baby"

double take

you what now?

haechans mouth just kinda froze open

so you shut his jaw gently

cant let him get jaw ache

"wait what?"

his soul has returned

he felt elated, completely happy, dare i say like he was high on a drug and said drug was not THC it was your TLC (LMAO GET IT IM PROUD OF THAT)

and so thats how mark returned to your dorm room to see you and hyuck cuddled in your bed, your head laying on his chest as his chin rested on your head, nuzzling into your hair (which was still half seafoam green might i add)

hyuck wasnt awake to celebrate, so yumark had their own small celebration, counting this as their success

you only found out he had put the flowers on your bed about two months after you started dating

a month after that you read the letter he gave you

#nct #nct dream #mark #mark lee #jisung #jisung park #nct hogwarts au #no eun this time 😔#fucking finally this one took longer than an hour to write #haechan #donghyuck #hyuck #gryffindor reader

110 notes · View notes

avarkriss · 5 years ago

Text

House of Wolves

A Javier Peña x Female Reader Fanfic

Rated E for Explicit

Word Count: 3.2k

Inspo: House of Wolves by My Chemical Romance

Summary: Javier has a terrible day at work, and really needs you to work it out of him.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of guns, violence, and death; smut, thigh riding, handcuffs, oral (F/M receiving), Javi is a switch, some light D/S, more smut, Javi stealing underpants, this fic will really piss off Bible thumpers, soft/vulnerable Javi is also probably a warning, a lil bit of cumplay if you squint, feelings, some small Narcos spoilers if you’re late to the game like me, unprotected sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), mouth fingering, i mean honestly if it’s sex it’s in here this is just porn

Author’s Note: This is my second fic being shared publicly - feel free to like, comment, and reblog! I’m open to friendly criticism as well as friendly conversation. Enjoy, let me know what you want to see more of!

The key jiggling in your door handle woke you with a start from your shallow slumber. You ran a hand over your forehead to brush away your sweaty hair before slipping it behind your bed to grab your pistol. The lock jiggled again and you took off your safety, stalking towards the sound. For the first time since being assigned to Colombia, you were thankful for the humidity swelling the wood of your door. You took a deep breath in to steady your hands and waited for the door to open. The handle jiggled a third time and finally released, allowing Javier to stumble into your apartment. When he looked up, he was staring down the barrel of your loaded gun. “Woah it’s just me doll, put that thing away,” Javier spoke out quickly, reaching behind him to close your door and tossing his keys onto the nearby coffee table, the key to your door slightly bent from the struggle. “God damn it Javi, I could have shot you,” you hissed, clicking the safety back on and setting the pistol on your counter. “Yeah? Well, after today, maybe it’s what I deserve,” he grunted, kicking the edge of a stool. “Javi, what happened?” He sat on the stool he had just kicked with a huff. “There’s a lot of shit going on outside doll. And there’s not a damn thing any of us can do about it. Narcos, cops, kids, everyone. My informants lie, people around me get killed-” Well, I know a thing about contrition Because I got enough to spare And I’ll be granting your permission ‘Cause you haven’t got a prayer “Javi. You can’t control everything,” you spoke to him gently, resting your hand on his. “We are living in hell and we do what we do to make sure the biggest asshole loses. And for once, the biggest asshole isn’t you.” Javier bit his bottom lip and shook his head, rolling back a deep chuckle. You came closer to stand between his legs, and you squeezed the inside of his thighs. “Come on,” you whispered in his ear, “let’s go have some fun.” Well I said hey, hey hallelujah I’m gonna come on sing the praise And let the spirit come on through you We got innocence for days! When you looked into Javier’s eyes you could see they had darkened, blown out with lust. You didn’t care that it was barely three in the morning, or that you had a pile of paperwork to take care of. Javier Peña was currently putty in your hands, and you always were one to seize opportunity by the balls. Well, I think I’m gonna burn in hell Everybody burn the house right down Javier kicked off his shoes and put his hand in yours, letting you pull him behind you as you briskly walked towards your bedroom. The curtains billowed with the gift of a breeze on this hot Colombian night. When you crossed the threshold you turned around and wrapped your arms behind Javier’s neck, standing up on your tiptoes to plant a soft kiss onto his mouth. Javier eagerly began to kiss you back, flexing a hand on your back while the other grabbed at your ass. He moaned as he deepened the kiss, attempting to part your lips with his tongue. You pulled your head back slightly and whispered, “No, Javi. I think tonight… tonight I call the shots.” You looked up at him and he licked his lips as he nodded, pulling you back to him. You kissed him hard, parting his lips with your tongue, tasting all the parts of his mouth. As he moaned into you, you reached down and undid the button and fly on his pants before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Clothes carelessly being tossed to the side, your thin camisole and shorts followed. When Javier went to grab your ass again he purred “Really? These tiny little panties?” “It’s hot, Javi,” you retorted as you pulled his pants and underwear off. His cock sprang out of his pants, hard and needy. You walked towards him until he backed into the edge of your bed and he sat with a quiet thump. “Now Javi,” you trilled to him, loving how quickly he looked up at you, “you can watch, but you can’t touch.” He sucked in a breath and groaned, but nodded in agreement. “Good,” you smirked as you sunk to your knees in front of him, taking his hard cock in your hand and stroking it gently, just enough to tease. And say, ha What I wanna say Tell me I’m an angel Take this to my grave Tell me I’m a bad man Kick me like a stray Tell me I’m an angel Take this to my grave You licked your lips and looked up at Javier with a smile, enjoying the lust in his eyes and the beads of sweat just beginning to form across his forehead. You kept teasing the head of his cock, red with need, before dipping your head down to gently swirl the tip in your mouth. His hands clenched on the bedding as he moaned out your name. “Please doll,” he breathed out, and you were all too happy to oblige. So many nights he had you begging, always putting up his hard facade. When he came to you today, you got a glimpse of something softer that he hid from the world. S-I-N, I S-I-N S-I-N, I S-I-N S-I-N, I S-I-N S-I-N, I S-I-N You hollowed out your cheeks and began to suck down his length, bobbing your head up and down. With every stroke of your mouth you heard him pant and saw his hands twitch from the corner of your eye. Taking a deep breath in, you slid your mouth all the way down his cock until he was prodding the back of your throat and your nose was buried in his dark curls. He released the most delicious moan and reached out only to grab his own face and fall backwards. The change in his body posture had you gag a little bit, but you shifted to continue deep-throating him if only to continue to hear his husky moans. When you decided you needed a breather, you pulled off his cock and took him in your hand, slowly stroking him. He looked like he was in heaven laying across your bed, one hand over his face, the other fisted in your sheets. “Slide up,” you nudged him, and he quickly scrambled back to lay on the bed completely. You had a devilish grin on your face as you moved to straddle his thigh and continued to stroke his cock, teasing the tip with your thumb. “My God doll, you’re gonna kill me like this,” Javier groaned beneath you. “Thought that’s what you wanted mi amor,” you replied, beginning to grind your soaked pussy on his thigh. “If death is what I deserve, than this is the way I want to go,” he breathed out. You play ring around the ambulance Well like you never gave a care So get the choir boys around you It’s a compliment, I swear And I said, ashes to ashes, we all fall down I wanna hear you sing the praise I said, ashes to ashes, we all fall down We got innocence for days! You shushed him. “Relax Javi, just relax. Enjoy this, because-” you punctuated your words with a roll of your hips, pulling a moan from you before you continued speaking- “I sure am.” Well, I think I’m gonna burn in hell Everybody burn the house right down You continued to drag your pussy across the hard muscle of Javier’s thigh, savoring the friction of your soaked panties against your clit. The faster you rode his thigh, the faster you stroked his cock, and the louder the two of you became. “You’re breaking my fucking heart baby please, let me touch you,” he begged below you, a new sound that edged you even closer to your release. “Not yet Javi,” you purred. You could get used to his begging. With a few more rolls of your hips you were coming apart, smearing your wetness across his thigh. You stroked his cock hard and fast as you chased your release, coming hard with his name on your lips. “Shit, doll- I, I’m so close, please wanna be in- in you- gonna- you gotta stop I’m gonna,” he pleaded with you and you dropped down in front of him, taking him into your mouth. With two strokes of your mouth he groaned, spilling thick ropes of his hot cum down your throat. You happily swallowed. When you pulled off his cock with a gentle pop, you wiped your thumb under your lip to gather the last remnants of his pleasure before licking the pad of your thumb clean. You looked up at from under your lashes, flashing him your sweetest smile. “Jesus,” he breathed out, panting as he looked at your nearly naked body. You grinned wide at him, ready to let him touch you all he wanted. “Weren’t you saying something about wanting to touch-” And say, ha What I wanna say Tell me I’m an angel Take this to my grave Tell me I’m a bad man Kick me like a stray Tell me I’m an angel Take this to my grave You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Javier was above you, caging you in with him arms. About to make a joke about how he never moves that quickly, he cut you off with a firm kiss, pressing his lips to yours and slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste where he had just painted. You moaned under him and went to grab his cock, already starting to harden again, when he stopped you. “Ah ah doll, you can watch, but you can’t touch.” You looked at him in shock, and he responded with the biggest shit eating grin you had ever seen. “And if you don’t listen, I’ll cuff you to this bed.” “You wouldn’t dare use your DEA handcuffs on a CIA agent.” He quirked an eyebrow at you and whispered darkly into your ear, “You have no idea what I would dare to do baby.” And just to piss him off, you grabbed his hair and pulled - “why don’t you show me then.” He growled before kissing you hard, holding the back of your neck and palming your breast. Your hands traced lines down his muscular back and he pulled away with a sigh. Getting off the bed, he walked to your dresser and started twirling your handcuffs around his finger. “Since my DEA handcuffs aren’t good enough for you, it looks like I’m just going to have to use yours.” “You wouldn’t.” “I would.” Apparently, Javier was full of surprises tonight. He took your wrist and cuffed it before dragging the chain behind the bed frame and cuffing your other wrist. He looked at you and smiled, skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Comfortable?” You better run like the devil ‘Cause they’re never gonna leave you alone! You better hide up in the alley 'Cause they’re never gonna find you a home! And as the blood runs down the walls You see me creepin’ up these halls I’ve been a bad motherfucker Tell your sister I’m another Go! Go! Go! “Remember when I said you’re not the biggest asshole? I think I lied to you.” “Don’t you worry doll,” he whispered across your skin, “I’ll make it up to you.” You huffed in response and he smirked up at you, slowly rolling your nipple between his fingers. He lazily kissed your other breast and then switched again, enjoying your labored breathing. He was taking his time down your body, loving the way you shivered and trilled beneath him. When he finally got to your center, he looked up at you from between your legs and winked before pulling your soaked panties down and tossing them towards his coat. He licked his lips and dropped his head to your cunt, licking up your slit and settling in to suck on your clit. “Javi, h-holy shi-i-t, Jav-i,” you moaned, back arching off the bed. You could feel him smile against you as he pulled moan after moan from your body. When you bucked under him again, Javier held down your hips with his arm and began to tease your entrance with the rough pads of his fingers. “Javi, please, please touch me.” It was your turn to beg and he growled into you before thrusting two of his fingers inside your aching pussy. You could feel him drag his fingers against your walls, continuing to lap at your clit like it was manna from heaven. “You’re so sweet doll,” he murmured. He continue thrusting his hand inside of you, searching out that soft spot he knew would push you over the edge. The handcuffs clanked on the bars of your bed frame as your body thrashed under his careful ministrations. When he curled his fingers inside of you like he was beckoning your orgasm forward, you saw stars. Javier knew your body well, and he kept fucking his fingers into you until you were screaming his name and when you finally came undone beneath him, you felt him smiling again. He drank down your orgasm, enjoying the sweetness. Satisfied that you had finished coming, he hopped off your bed again sauntered to your dresser, finding the keys to the handcuffs. As he walked back he was sucking his fingers, savoring the taste of you. He spun the key in his fingers before releasing your wrists, kissing you softly. “You okay doll?” he whispered, running his nose along your jawline. “More than okay,” you sighed. You pulled another smile out of him, far many more than normal, and he sweetly kissed your wrists. He continued to pepper your upper your upper body in kisses, and you bathed in the unexpected tenderness. When he reached your collar bone he bit down and sucked yet another mark into your flesh. You moaned into him and reached down to stroke his now very hard cock. “Think you have another in you Javi?” He chuckled against you and tweaked one of your nipples. “I know I do.” He pushed you back onto the bed and began kissing and sucking your breasts while giving himself a few hard strokes. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gently hissed as he pushed in. No matter how many times you found yourself under him, his size always caught you by surprise. Fully seated inside your cunt, he felt your walls flex around him and he moaned against your skin. He gently pulled halfway out, and then snapped his hips, slamming into you and drawing out a deep moan of pleasure. “F-fuck Javi you’re s-so big, p-p-please-” And I said, say What I wanna say Tell me I’m an angel Take this to my grave Tell me I’m a bad man Kick me like a stray Tell me I’m an angel Take this to my grave “Please d-don’t stop.” He continued to push into you, grunting against your shoulder before biting your soft skin. You could feel the ridges of his cock against you, in absolute bliss as began to suck and bite your neck. Every thrust of his hips was marked with a kiss or bite somewhere else on your chest; you were beginning to look like he was painting the night sky across your body. “You’re so bad Javi, I’m running out of excuses for these hickies,” you whispered into his hair, before giving it a gentle pull. Tell me I’m a bad, bad, bad, bad man Tell me I’m a bad, bad, bad, bad man Tell me I’m a bad, bad, bad, bad man Tell me I’m a bad, bad, bad, bad man “That’s the point baby.” He slipped a hand under your neck and snuck the other around your waist when your back arched for him again. With a swift move you were now straddling him, and you bent to kiss his sweaty forehead. He cupped your face in his hands - “My God are you beautif-” You didn’t let him finish as you rolled your hips, forcing a moan out of his mouth. You smirked at him and he grabbed hold of your waist, helping you to set a heavy pace that had you both panting and groaning each other’s names. You could feel him dragging in and out of you, rubbing against that sweet inner place he knows so well. Every flutter of your tight pussy brought him closer to the edge of his release. You began to become undone first, clenching tightly around his cock. Knowing you were close, Javier thrust his hips deeply under you, reaching that sweet spot with every push and rutting into you at a punishing speed. You clung to him as you moaned through your orgasm, tightening around him and bringing him to his own. He growled as his hips started moving erratically, fucking into you as he filled your pussy with his cum. As he stilled, you carded your hands through his hair, a sweaty mess of brown curls. You pushed your forehead to his and gently kissed him, earning a contented hum. As he began to soften, you rolled off of him and nestled into his side. He kissed the top of your head, and you had to peel yourself away from him to go clean up in the bathroom. When you emerged, Javier tossed you a clean pair of your underwear that you slowly slipped on, watching him put your soiled pair into his jacket pocket. 'Odd,’ you thought. Javier does a lot of things, but sleepovers certainly isn’t one of them. “For later,” he smirked. “Fuck you, Javi.” “Mission accomplished,” he retorted, flopping back down into your bed. “I thought you don’t do sleepovers.” He looked at you and reached his hands out, wiggling his fingers for you to go to him. You did, and you curled back against his chest. “I haven’t been to a brothel since you.” His voice was so quiet against your skin you thought you that you may have been imagining things. Your voice caught in your throat – surprised at the sudden emission that was, in his own way, Javier saying how much he cared about you. You looked up at him and found him smiling, a gentle kind of smile that reached into his eyes. One you weren’t accustomed to. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your own features and you laid your hand on his cheek, giving him a gentle kiss. You hoped the action would convey all the words the two of you just don’t share. As you curled back into him, you closed your eyes and let out a gentle sigh. He stroked your bare back up and down a few times and you relaxed listening to his heartbeat. Just as you were about to fall asleep, your 0500 alarm started blaring. As you groaned, Javier’s heavy laughter filled the room. So get up! So get out! S-I-N, I S-I-N! “You better be planning to buy me a fucking coffee, Javier Peña.“

#javier pena x reader #javi #pedro pascal #narcos #narcos fanfic #my writing #my chemical romance #musical fic #smut fest #writing javi as a switch brought me such joy #feelings for handcuffs #javier peña #i saw i fucked up the n because my keyboard makes the ~ a pain #anyways enjoy #nsft

207 notes · View notes