#was the goal to actually cut out every good part | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hhughes · 4 months ago

Text

៹࣪ ៸៸ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓 . . . ꒱꒱

in which Jack shows appreciation for all that you do, by doing you a favour.

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. jack hughes x athletic!trainer!reader. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. banter. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. just had this idea in my head and had to write it. who knows if I’ll do more with this pairing, maybe, maybe not. we’ll see. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

Working in professional sports means you’re exposed to attractive people most of the time. They’re professional athletes , it’s their job to keep their bodies in shape , and over time you get used to it. A six foot , fit, cocky man is much less appealing when you're surrounded by them twenty-four-seven. It helps that you get to see them in their lowest of lows. Snoring on the plane when they haven’t brushed their teeth in over 24 hours , wearing the same T-Shirt and sweatpants on the plane on every roadie , or when they take it a step further ( bc they’re overachievers ) and puke in your backseat when you pick their drunk asses up from a night out. That’ll teach you to become friends with co-workers.

So it surprises you every now and then when you hear people freak out about how attractive they are , or how lucky you were to be in their presence as often as you are. People in this case being your dad’s friends’ daughter.

“I gotta get a job like yours if I get to stare at that the entire time,” Amanda says from her position next to you in the box , her eyes focussed on Jack who stood outside the door talking to one of the building staff members. you resist the urge to let out a sigh and only send her a polite smile. You hold yourself back from wanting to give her advice because she probably wouldn’t take it into consideration anyway. It was challenging to get your job as one of the team’s assistant athletic trainers , but getting the job wasn’t necessarily the hard part. It was keeping the job , continuously proving that you deserve it.

“Thanks again for getting us up here sweetheart,” your dad says, taking the spot next to you when Amanda occupies herself elsewhere, and squeezing you tightly into his side. Your parents were both lifelong devils fans and actually met at a game. So it was only fitting that they would celebrate their thirtieth anniversary at the same place they met.

“Pass my thanks on to Jack too would you?” your dad says , knowing it was because of him that they were up there but before you could reply a smooth voice cut in from behind.

“No need for that sir , the box was gonna sit empty tonight anyway. I’m glad it’s being put to good use,” Jack cuts in and both you and your dad turn to look at him. He was clad in his game day suit , one you’ve seen many times now but it still managed to make your mouth run dry a bit.

Sir? you mouth at Jack, lifting your eyebrow in a teasing gesture and if you didn’t know him as well as you did you would’ve missed the slight lift in the corner of his lips, revealing his brief amusement before it fades away as he continues talking to your dad.

“You gonna get me a goal tonight? Break this little dry streak you're on” your dad jokingly asks as he shakes Jack’s hand and you gently nudge him.

“Dad,” you warn, knowing how hard Jack was on himself already about going pointless for a few games. You send Jack an apologetic glance but he just smiles in response. Usually it didn’t bother Jack when fans talked about his game. No one was more disappointed in him not performing than he was. And no one wanted to score more than he did.

But for some reason when someone close to you mentioned it, it struck a bit of a nerve. For some unknown reason Jack wanted nothing more than to play the best game of his career tonight and impress your dad. Maybe even impress you, but as he’s learned the last few months, that’s no easy task.

You’ve remained thoroughly unimpressed by just about anything and everything Jack Hughes has thrown your way. Which Jack isn’t afraid to admit, has hurt his ego quite a bit, but it’s also made him utterly fascinated by you.

“Should’ve worn my jersey. Give me a bit of extra luck,” Jack jokes and your dad lets out a slight laugh, patting the ‘C’ on his chest. Proudly wearing the devil’s Captain’s jersey.

“Well in that case you’ve got all the luck you need son. My wife is wearing your jersey — honey, come meet Jack! ” he yells at your mom and you feel your cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment, sending Jack another apologetic smile, and your heart warms at the sweet, easy going grin he gives you, and then your mom in greeting.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him make that much of an effort to keep small talk going as he did with your parents for the next ten minutes. Even going as far as telling your dad that whatever they were gonna order at the bar tonight should go under his tab. You practically had to drag him away when game time was nearing and he had to go.

“We really need to go. I’ll see you guys after okay?” you say hugging your parents goodbye and following Jack out the door.

“Go get ‘em sweetheart,” your dad yells after you, as if you were the one about to play, and Jack laughs softly when you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re really excited to be here, as you can probably tell,” you say bashfully and Jack has the urge to stop in the middle of the hallway and just admire the blush of your cheeks. It’s not often that he gets to see you this laid-back, cheeks flushed, eyes practically lit up with happiness, foreshadows of your dimples, that he now knows comes from your mom, as you struggle to keep the smile off your face. Jack has always seen brief glimpses of this version of you, whenever they win a game, but it’s always there for a split second before you detach yourself and go into work mode.

And Jack is utterly obsessed with that version of you too. The one who doesn’t accept any shit from him or the guys. Who always seems to clean up everyone’s messes, on and off the ice, even if it’s not really in your job description. It’s not that Jack liked that version any less than this one, it’s just that his heart felt like it was going to explode because he’s the only one who has this little piece of you now. None of the other guys have seen you playfully roll your eyes at your dad’s jokes, or the fond smile you get on your face when your mom dotes on you. Only he has that.

“Don’t even worry about it. I wanted to meet them and I’m glad I did, they were awesome,” Jack says and you reach out and grab his bicep, bringing both of you to a standstill.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. You made their night. My dad’s never gonna shut up about this,” you say, squeezing his arm softly and Jack reaches for your other hand, glancing left and right and making sure no one else is around as he intertwines your fingers.

“We don’t show you enough appreciation around here for everything you do for us. For me. This was my way of doing that,” Jack says, squeezing your hand softly and his lungs malfunction temporarily as you step closer and press a feather light kiss to his cheek.

“You’re sweet when you wanna be, you know.” you say, moving away from him and Jack immediately misses having you close to him.

“Right back atcha,” he says, nudging you softly.

The two of you walk in silence in the direction of the locker room for a bit before he breaks it again and when you hear the words come out of his mouth, you desperately wish he didn’t.

“So the girl that was in the booth with your parents? She related to you?” he asks casually and you squint at him suspiciously as he refuses to meet your eye.

“No. She’s just my dad’s friend’s daughter. Family friend,” you explain and Jack nods.

“She single?” Jack asks and you immediately scoff, your feet coming to a halt at his question and he stops right along with you, sending you a questioning gaze.

“Are you serious right now?” you question, trying to keep the obvious hurt and disgust out of your tone. You lean back against the hallway wall, sending him a glare and Jack grin as he makes his way closer to you, his hands going to either side of your head as he leans his head so close to yours you can feel his breath against your cheek.

“No, I'm not. I just think you’re hot as fuck when you’re mad, and I happen to know exactly how to push your buttons pretty girl,” Jack says, and your breath hitches as he presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek.

“But really though, is she single?” Jack asks with a shit eating grin and you can’t keep the smile off your face as you push him away lightly.

“Go you’re gonna be late and you’re gonna get me in trouble,” is the only response you give him

“Wouldn’t dream of it doc,” jack responds, shooting you a grin and giving you a wink as he makes his way towards the locker room.

“I’m not a doctor,” you yell the usual response after him, hoping it’ll stick one day.

#jack hughes x y/n #jack x at!reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes x reader #꒰ 🗄️ ꒱ — 𝓗hughes #꒰ 📂 ꒱ — 𝓗hughes -> fics

815 notes · View notes

calder · 1 year ago

Text

In every mainline Fallout game except for New Vegas, players can earn the loyalty of a dog known as “Dogmeat.” As part of the main quest of Fallout 4, Dogmeat assists in tracking down the antagonist, even if the player has never encountered him before. When you leave Kellogg’s home, Nick simply starts talking about Dogmeat as if he’s a known quantity.

Perhaps related to this quirk of the world, Dogmeat is first named in this game when the clairvoyant Mama Murphy recognizes him and addresses him by name. The game’s UI calls him “DOG” until he is recognized by Valentine or Murphy. It seems clear that this german shepherd is somehow an independent agent with a good reputation, or something.

Dogmeat does not have a loyalty quest associated with him, which is how the player would earn the other companions’ perks. However, upon finding Astoundingly Awesome Tales #9 within the Institute, Dogmeat becomes more resistant to damage. While this isn’t coherent or conclusive evidence of Dogmeat being a synth, it’s plainly prompting the audience to consider that idea. In light of these factors, his origins have been fiercely debated among the community.

The skeptics and “hard sci-fi” fans out there would have you believe that he’s merely a famous stray dog who solves crimes. But I believe there's something more remarkable at work.

There's a section in the Fallout 2 instruction book called the Vault Dweller's Memoirs, where the player character of the first game recounts what canonically happened. Due to Fallout’s famously terrible companion AI, if you travelled to Mariposa with Dogmeat, he would consistently run into the force fields and get vaporized. So, in the Memoirs, we learn that this is exactly what became of Dogmeat Prime, in canon. He loyally sprinted into a wall of solid light, and disappeared. What if our buddy simply awoke in a new, confusing place?

In Fallout 2, Dogmeat must be found at the Cafe of Broken Dreams, which is explicitly a liminal space. It appears randomly to travellers in the desert. The NPCs within are frozen in time, such as a young version of President Tandi, who mentions that Ian went to “the Abbey,” an area cut from the game. To gain Dogmeat’s trust, the Chosen One must equip the Vault Dweller’s V-13 jumpsuit, which Dogmeat recognizes as belonging to his dead master. You can also attack him to spawn Mad Max, who claims ownership of the dog. Max fits the description of Dogmeat's original owner given in Fallout.

There’s also the “puppies” perk in Fallout 3, which enables you to restore Dogmeat, in the event of his death. “Dogmeat’s puppy” inherits his base and ref ids. In other words, they ARE the same NPC, just renamed. So, the way this actually articulates is that whenever Dogmeat dies in combat, you can find him waiting for you back at Vault 101. In practice, it’s almost Bombadilian.

Lastly, please consider the following developer context.

In June of 2021, the dog who performed Dogmeat’s motion capture and voice for Fallout 4 passed away. A statue of her was placed outside of every Vault in the China-exclusive sequel to Fallout Shelter. She still watches over each player.

River's owner, developer Joel Burgess, honored her in a brief thread about her involvement in the game, and shared much about his thought process and design goals while leading the character’s development. The Dogmeat project changed course early on, after Mr. Joel saw a new member of the art team gathering references of snarling German Shepherds. This motivated him to bring River into the studio, so the artists and developers could spend time with her.

He wanted to steer the team away from viewing Dogmeat as a weapon, and towards viewing him as a friend. Everything special about Dogmeat was inspired by River. For example, whenever you travel with Dogmeat, he’s constantly running ahead of you to scout for danger, then turning to wait for you. This was inspired by River’s consistent behavior on long walks. The only way they were able to motivate River to bark for recordings was by separating her from Joel while he waited in the next room. Reading the thread, it’s very clear that he hoped Dogmeat would make players feel safe, encouraging them to explore, and to wonder. In his closing thoughts, he said the following:

-Joel Burgess

Mr. Joel felt it was important to express that the ambiguity of Dogmeat’s origin in Fallout 4 was deliberately built into his presentation. He also felt it was important that you know Dogmeat loves you. Dogmeat was designed, on every level, to reflect the audience’s inspirations, and to empower their curiosity.

The true lore of Dogmeat is a rorschach test. The only “right” answer is to pursue whatever captures your imagination.

#dogmeat #v13 #meta #companions #animal death t

1K notes · View notes

goldfades · 8 months ago

Text

★ ALWAYS AN ANGEL, NEVER A GOD ─── CC²² (part 2/2)

❪ requested -> "Can you write something about cc and reader being enemies and hating eachother. but they are on two different teams so they play against eachother and something happens during one of their games and they take their hate out on eachother with smut?" ❫ part one!

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut, read at your own discretion. lots of shit talking, just rivals shit yk how it is. fingering but it's kinda soft (like the actual fucking part), lots of praise and a sprinkle of degradation (if u can even call it that) cause u know me.

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

EVER SINCE THE GAME AGAINST Iowa, you were determined to keep up the keep up the momentum and prove that your victory was no fluke.

In the weeks that followed, you poured your heart and soul into every practice, honing your skills with a relentless intensity that left your teammates in awe. Every drill, every scrimmage, every mere second on the court was a chance to improve, to get one step closer to your ultimate goal (you weren't sure what it was at this point, to prove yourself to Caitlin or the world).

But it wasn't just about proving yourself on the court. Caitlin's words lingered in your mind, a constant reminder of the unresolved tension between you. The memory of that heated encounter in the hotel hallway replayed in your thoughts, the desire and frustration mixing into a potent cocktail that fueled your determination.

You found yourself replaying the moments of that game over and over in your head ─ the way you intercepted Caitlin's pass, the exhilaration of your dunk, and the look of pure rage in her eyes (and of course, the kiss that followed). You thrived on those memories, using them as motivation to push yourself beyond your limits.

"Good job, Y/N!" Hailey called out during one particularly grueling scrimmage, her admiration evident in her voice. "What, did you have an energy drink before or what?"

You gave her a playful shove as you shrugged, wiping the sweat from your brow as you walked toward your water bottle. "Just trying to stay ahead,"

Hailey shot you a knowing look, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "This isn't just about staying ahead, is it?" she teased. "It's about Caitlin."

"You can't say her name out loud like that," you joked as Hailey laughed. You didn't bother denying it, the truth too obvious to ignore. "Maybe," you admitted, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

As the season progressed, your hard work began to pay off. You dominated the court with a newfound confidence, your skills shining brighter than ever before. The media took notice, your name becoming synonymous with excellence, just like Caitlin's.

But even as you basked in the glory of your success, you couldn't shake the lingering thoughts of Caitlin. You wondered how she was doing, whether she was training just as hard, whether she thought about you as often as you thought about her.

You kept repeating the moment in your mind, over and over again, feeling some kind of weird excitement at her words.

"I'm not fucking you until we win," she replied, her voice low and husky, the words a mere whisper against the charged silence that enveloped you both. "Until I get the trophy, until your team loses."

However, you knew that pushing her buttons would make the hook-up a whole lot more satisfying. You thought about that particular part a lot more than you should have, the challenge in her voice igniting a fire within you that you couldn't ignore.

Then, one day, the schedule for the next season was released, and there it was ─ the match against Iowa, the game that would determine once and for all who would come out on top. The date was set, and you felt a surge of excitement and nerves at the prospect of facing Caitlin again.

The weeks leading up to the game were a whirlwind of preparation and anticipation. Your coach pushed you harder than ever, knowing how much was riding on this matchup. And through it all, Caitlin's words continued to echo in your mind, a constant source of "motivation", if you could even call it that.

Finally, the day arrived. The arena was packed, the energy palpable as fans from both sides filled the stands. As you stepped onto the court, your heart pounded with adrenaline, and your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Caitlin.

She stood across from you, her dark gaze intense and unwavering. You could feel the heat of her stare, a silent promise of the battle to come. As the referee signaled the start of the game, you took a deep breath, centering yourself for what was about to unfold.

From the very first whistle, the game was a fierce clash of skill and determination. You and Caitlin matched each other move for move, your rivalry playing out in a series of fast breaks, sharp passes, and contested shots. The tension was palpable, the crowd hanging on every moment as the score remained neck and neck.

As the clock wound down, the score was tied, and the pressure mounted. You found yourself with the ball, Caitlin guarding you closely, her eyes locked onto yours with a mix of challenge and desire. With a quick move, you faked left, then darted right, driving towards the basket with all the speed and agility you could muster.

As you drove towards the basket, Caitlin moved to intercept your path. With a swift motion, she blocked your shot, sending the ball ricocheting off the backboard. The force of her block knocked you off balance, and you stumbled, falling hard onto the court.

You hit the ground with a thud, the impact jolting through your body as you landed awkwardly on the hardwood floor. Pain shot through your limbs, but it was nothing compared to the sting of defeat that washed over you in that moment.

Caitlin stood over you, her dark gaze intense and unyielding as she glared down at you with satisfaction and you hated it. There was a silent challenge in her eyes, a reminder of the relentless rivalry that defined your relationship both on and off the court ─ you could practically read her mind, "I'm getting the trophy."

As the referee blew the whistle to signal a turnover, Caitlin offered you a hand, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Good try, Y/N," she taunted, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Maybe you should uh, stick to defense."

As Caitlin extended her hand towards you, a smirk dancing on her lips, something inside you snapped. Maybe it was the sting of defeat or the frustration and anger that had been building within you throughout the game, and you couldn't hold it any longer.

With a scowl, you swatted Caitlin's hand away, ignoring the lingering pain in your limbs as you rose to your feet on your own. "Shut up, Caitlin," you spat, your voice dripping with venom as you glared up at her. "You're just a self entitled bitch who thinks she owns the court,"

"I do," Caitlin stepped so she was directly in front of you. You looked up at the brunette, suddenly feeling small under the weight of her imposing presence. Despite the anger that simmered beneath the surface, you couldn't deny the intensity of the moment as Caitlin's dark eyes bore into yours.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," she continued, her voice low and dangerous, a warning laced with barely contained fury. "And didn't I tell you to cut the fucking attitude?"

You just scoffed, however some sick part of you liked this, the way she was talking to you. As much as you wanted to deny it, there was a certain allure in the challenge she presented, the promise of tonight making the whole thing a lot harder to resist.

Caitlin's proximity was overwhelming, her presence towering over you. You felt a surge of defiance rising within you, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"And what if I don't?" you shot back, your voice laced with defiance as you met her intense gaze head-on. "What are you gonna do about it, Caitlin?"

Caitlin's jaw clenched, a flicker of anger flashing in her eyes before she regained her composure. "You wanna find out?" she retorted, her tone sharp and cutting as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin.

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, a mixture of fear and excitement swirling in the pit of your stomach. Despite the tension between you, there was an undeniable thrill in the air, a palpable energy that crackled between you like electricity.

But before anything could escalate, Hailey's arm yanked you away, breaking the charged moment between you and Caitlin. The sudden interruption jolted you back to reality, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you were pulled back into the flow of the game.

With a sharp exhale, you forced yourself to focus, pushing aside the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The game had resumed as quickly as it had been interrupted, the intensity of the match returning with renewed vigor.

But despite your best efforts, Iowa proved to be a formidable opponent, their skill and determination matching your own at every turn. As the final seconds ticked away, the score remained neck and neck, the outcome of the game hanging in the balance.

And then, with a final buzzer, it was over ─ Iowa emerged as the winners, the thrill of victory evident on their faces as they celebrated their hard-fought win. As the reality of defeat sank in, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, the bitter taste of loss lingering on your tongue.

"God fucking damn it," you muttered under your breath as you glared toward them.

As if on cue, Caitlin turned around and met your gaze. Her expression was satisfaction, a silent acknowledgment of the victory she had secured over you and your team. You felt a surge of frustration rise within you, the bitterness of defeat stinging like a fresh wound.

──

"Y/N?" The reporter's voice pulled you back into reality as you shook your head, opening your eyes with a very forced smile.

You nodded your head. "Yeah, sorry. Zoned out, uh... can you repeat the question?"

The reporter gave you a sympathetic smile before repeating the question. "I was just asking for your thoughts on the game and the performance of both teams, particularly Caitlin Clark. She had a standout performance tonight."

Yeah, of course she fucking did, you wanted to shout but you just nodded. "Yeah, she played a great game," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. "She's a talented player. Iowa put up a tough fight, and they deserved the win tonight."

The interview was slow and it felt every answer you were giving was fake but you were livid. As soon as it was over, you practically ran out of there. You needed to blow off some steam, and you had no idea how–

Oh.

You had forgotten about the entire thing until that moment and despite all the anger, your stomach twisted in excitement. However, it was a year ago and you weren't even sure if Caitlin meant what she said, she was probably just really angry because of how the game ended, much like how you were feeling right now.

As you mulled over the memory, a sense of longing washed over you, mingling with the lingering anger and frustration that still simmered beneath the surface. Despite everything, despite the rivalry and the animosity, there was an undeniable attraction between you and Caitlin, a magnetic pull that defied your comprehension.

Then, your phone buzzed inside your pocket.

Cait: got the trophy 🥇 Cait: did you think i forgot?

You had forgotten you even had her number, it was from so long ago. The text made your stomach drop (in a very, very good way) as a rush of emotions flooded through you. Surprise, excitement, and a hint of apprehension all mingled together as you read Caitlin's messages.

It was as if the past year had been condensed into those few simple words, reigniting the unresolved tension between you with startling clarity. However, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the back of your mind ─ was this just another game to her? Another way to assert her dominance and superiority over you?

Cait: where u at?

And that was all it took for her to win you over. You knew you were letting your heart do all the talking but right now, you just wanted to feel good. Was that so bad?

──

The knock on the door shouldn't have startled you as much as it did, especially since you had been waiting for it. But still, when the knock echoed through the room, a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine.

You took a moment to steady yourself, to quell the fluttering nerves that threatened to overwhelm you, before crossing the room to answer the door.

As you swung it open, Caitlin stood before you, her presence commanding and intoxicating all at once. She was wearing a black hoodie and sweats, the hood was up and she looked too good. Your eyes scanned her body and you saw her lips quirk up into a smirk.

You felt your stomach leap out of your body at the sight, and you felt like you were gonna go insane, were you ovulating?

"Hey," she greeted, her voice husky with desire as she stepped closer, closing the distance between you with deliberate intent.

"Hey," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you met her gaze head-on. Despite the tension that lingered in the air, there was an undeniable pull between you, a magnetic force that drew you together like moths to a flame.

And as Caitlin's lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss, all doubts and fears melted away. In that moment, nothing else mattered ─ not the rivalry, and certainly not the consequences, nothing except the intoxicating desire that pulsed between you and Caitlin.

Caitlin's hands gripped your hips as she closed the hotel door with her leg, effortlessly. Her lips stayed on yours as her hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. The heat of her touch seared through you, igniting a fire that blazed hotter with each passing moment.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you pressed closer to her, your body molding to hers. With a low growl, Caitlin lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around her waist as she carried you further into the room. Every touch, every kiss, only fueled the pure need that raged between you, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy.

And as you surrendered yourself to her, you knew that this was just the beginning ─ the beginning of something that would consume you fully despite resisting it for so long.

She dropped you onto the bed and broke the kiss, her eyes dark as she gazed at you. You were both breathing heavily as you tried your best to maintain eye contact, despite the pressure that was building your lower stomach.

"Didn't think you'd answer," Caitlin finally spoke, her voice breathless as she began climbing on top of you.

"Why?" You asked as she latched her lips to your neck, sucking harshly as you gripped the sheets beneath you.

"Because you're stubborn," Caitlin murmured against your skin, her breath hot and heavy as she trailed kisses along your jawline. "But I knew eventually, you'd realize that there's no point in all that whining,"

You let out a shaky breath, her words igniting a fierce hunger within you as you arched into her touch, craving more of her intoxicating presence.

"I knew all you wanted was for me to show you why I'm better," Caitlin teased as she began stroking your sides.

You wanted to counter, to say anything back to her but you couldn't ─ she already had consumed you and you couldn't of any reason why you'd want to resist her any longer.

Caitlin pulled your lips into another harsh kiss, pulling a moan out of your lips. That seemed to encourage her because next thing you know, she's pulling your shorts off. Her hands eventually found your neck, pushing you into the mattress as you both moaned into the kiss.

Caitlin pulled away for a second, pulling her hoodie over her head and gazed at you, expectantly. You mirrored her actions and you were left only in your bra and underwear, you felt embarrassed under her gaze until she pulled you into a deeper kiss.

Her hands gripped your face and pulled you from the kiss, earning a disappointed whimper from you. "Look at me,"

You met her gaze, the intensity of her dark eyes holding you captive.

"You're fucking beautiful," Caitlin murmured, her fingers tracing the outline of your jaw.

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, the sincerity in her voice disarming you completely. You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to steady your breathing.

Caitlin's hands moved to the clasp of your bra, her touch gentle yet deliberate as she unhooked it, letting it fall away. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "I'm gonna make you feel so good, you're gonna forget how much you hate me."

A soft moan escaped your lips as her hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of your skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of her gaze. You arched into her touch, your body responding to her every move with an urgency that left you breathless.

As she trailed kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, you felt the last of your doubts melt away, leaving you completely vulnerable and exposed.

Her hands found your thighs and squeezed them, her fingers slowly drawing closer to the place you'd wanted her all night. Caitlin's finger slowly began stroking your clothed pussy, her eyes watching your every movement.

You let out a broken whimper, your head falling back on to the mattress before her other hand gripped your face, guiding your gaze back to hers.

"What did I fucking say? Look at me," Caitlin spat, her voice a mix of authority and desire. You forced your eyes open, meeting her intense stare, the heat between you building with every passing second.

"So fucking wet, all for me," she murmured, as continued stroking your clothed heat; she could feel it pulsing all because of her and it made her ego skyrocket even more.

Caitlin's finger moved and before you could voice your disapproval, she slowly slid your underwear off. You were completely naked now, you could feel her eyes rake over you fondly. She spread your legs again, further this time ─ each leg was placed at her sides, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable under her gaze. Caitlin's eyes darkened with desire as she took in the sight of you, her breath hitching slightly.

"So pretty," she murmured, almost to herself, as she trailed her fingers lightly up your inner thigh, sending shivers of anticipation through your body.

You squirmed beneath her touch, a mix of excitement and impatience coursing through you. "Cait," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with need.

She looked up at you, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I want you to remember this," she said, her voice low. "Every time you think you can challenge me, every time you think you can beat me, I want you to remember how I make you feel right now."

With that, she leaned down, her lips finding yours in a deep, hungry kiss that almost knocked the breath out of you. Her hands continued their exploration, moving with a confidence that left you trembling with anticipation.

"Do you still think I'm a bitch?" she murmured against your lips, a teasing edge to her voice.

You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response, but managed to shake your head, a breathless, "No," escaping your lips.

"Good," Caitlin replied, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Because I want you to know exactly who's in control here."

And with that, her finger slid into you perfectly. You let out a surprised moan, your back arching against the mattress. "Oh, fu-fuck."

Her finger began thrusting in and out of you, swiftly. You were so soaked, her finger was moving easily in and out of you. Caitlin's hand gripped your hip, pulling you closer into her.

She slowed down her movements and you let out an disapproving huff, her gaze intense as she looked down at you. "Why did you hate me? Were you jealous?"

Did: as in, past tense.

Her tone sounded almost amused but there was an edge of seriousness to it. "What?"

"I thought that's what it was," her finger slowly began moving again, causing your breath to hitch. "I don't think that's what it was now," she continued, her voice contemplative. "I think it was something else."

You could barely focus, your mind clouded with the sensation of her touch, but her words cut through the haze, making you confront something you'd been avoiding. "I don't hate you," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I never hated you."

Caitlin's smirk grew, she knew exactly what she was doing. Her finger continuing their slow, torturous rhythm. "Then what was it, Y/N? Why all the anger?"

"Because," you gasped, struggling to form coherent thoughts under her relentless pace. "Because you always got to me. You always made me feel... things I didn't want to feel."

Her movements stilled for a moment, her eyes searching yours. "And now?"

"Now," you swallowed hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Now, I can't stop thinking about you."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Caitlin's face, her fingers resuming their movement. "Good," she murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. "Because I don't plan on letting you forget this anytime soon."

Her touch became more quick, driving you closer and closer to the edge once again. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, the culmination of all the pent-up anger and unresolved tension between you. She added another finger slowly, causing you to let out another breathless moan as your back arched.

"Take it, come on. I know you can," Caitlin's fingers never faltered as she gazed down at you. "Fuck, who's the princess now, huh?" she spat as she finger-fucked you, your legs beginning to shake.

As the pleasure built to a fever pitch, you felt yourself letting go of everything ─ the rivalry, the anger, the fear ─ and surrendering completely to the sensation.

"Cait," you moaned, your hands gripping her shoulders as you reached the brink, your body trembling with anticipation.

"That's it, fuck," she whispered against your lips, her breath hot and ragged. "Let go for me."

And with a final, shattering wave of pleasure, you did, your body convulsing in her arms as you cried out her name. Her finger rode you through it, your chest heaving as you slowly came down from your high.

"Can't believe I did that with just my fingers, baby." The pet-name left her lips effortlessly as she broke you out of your reverie. You couldn't believe it, either.

Her fingers slid out of you and she pushed your lips open, forcing them into your mouth. You sucked them clean as she looked down at you, her shitfaced smirk was back.

You rolled your eyes as she removed her finger with a pop. "Yeah, well, don't get too cocky," you shot back, trying to regain some semblance of control even though your body was still trembling.

She laughed, the sound was unfamiliar but genuine; it made your heart flip. "How can I not? I mean, Jesus, I had you literally tell me you never hated me while I was knuckles deep inside you. It was one finger too-"

You groaned loudly, cutting her off as her laughter slowly died down. "I just wanted to cum,"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," you countered, finally meeting her gaze. She had the same cocky ass expression, the one you've always hated ─ but now felt different, somehow.

"Thought I told you to cut the attitude, Y/N," she teased, her fingers trailing along your arm, sending shivers down your spine. Her eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, refusing to back down. "And what if I don't?" you challenged, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Caitlin's smirk widened, a glint of amusement and something deeper flickering in her eyes. "Then I'll just have to remind you why you shouldn't,"

She leaned in and pressed her lips against lips in another heated kiss, her hands roaming your body with a renewed sense of purpose. The teasing edge in her touch drove you wild, a tantalizing reminder of the power she held over you.

"You're impossible," you muttered against her lips.

"And you love it," she shot back, her breath hot against your skin as she moved to kiss along your jawline, her hands exploring every inch of you. The sensation was intoxicating, every touch sending waves of pleasure through your body.

As she continued her relentless assault on your jaw, you couldn't help but surrender to the moment, letting go of all the anger and frustration that had once defined your relationship. In that instant, all that mattered was the connection between you, the raw, unfiltered desire that pulsed through your veins.

"Do you regret it?" Caitlin's voice was softer now, almost vulnerable, as she paused to look into your eyes.

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips. "No," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, I don't."

Caitlin's eyes softened, her expression shifting from playful to something more tender. "Good," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Cause neither do I."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

625 notes · View notes

ryukzakiii · 1 year ago

Text

distraction ⭑ l. lawliet (pt.2!)

part one here !

summary: now that the first move had been made, you start to realize just how badly L needs to be the best at anything he does, and how much he’s used to getting just what he wants.

pairing: l. lawliet x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), oral (f. receiving), voyeurism kinda, unprotected sex (wrap it up), praise ig, not really dom!L but he’s spoiled and gets what he wants, idk guys it’s nasty, fluff at the end :)

authors note: i got so carried away i cant edit it anymore just have at it and enjoy ya freaks!!

smut under the cut !!

after you and L first slept together that night in headquarters, his interest in you had grown exponentially. mainly because he couldn’t fully understand how somebody as beautiful and brilliant as you would ever be interested in somebody like him, but also because he had become fixated on learning everything there was to know about pleasing a woman. pleasing you.

every time the rest of the task force would leave for the night, he would take the opportunity to have you to himself almost immediately. as the nights went on, he grew more and more confident in what he was doing, being able to get you down on your knees in front of him just by speaking to you for a moment. his monotonous (yet somehow cocky) tone of voice alone drove you crazy.

as weeks became months, any little bit of hesitation he once had was smothered and he was just as sure of himself regarding you as he was regarding everything else; borderline too much.

that meant he began to want his needs to be met at any time he wished. like how he had sweets or drinks whenever he wanted, and anything he asked for he would always have post-haste, and it wasn’t like L to change his ways.

he would wait for everyone to leave the room, even just for ten minutes, and you’d be sitting in his lap barely able to catch your breath due to the fervour with which he kissed you.

he would ask watari to page you to his room if it was a night you hadn’t already been with him that day, either at school or out with friends, and you wouldn’t be there 5 minutes before he had you bent over a table (or the couch, or his work desk, or once over the windowsill the night you’d mentioned wanting to see the full moon).

in not so many words, his libido had gone into overdrive and he quite enjoyed getting whatever he wanted.

the only problem was that once you two were finished and he had a small break from the incessant urge to bury himself into you as deep as he could go, he still wanted to be just as close to you and horribly wanted you to feel the same way. unfortunately, this was the one situation where he couldn’t find the words to express his feelings.

so, since he had made it his goal to be the very best at making you feel good, he decided to get his point across to you the best way he now knew how.

“y/n, would you please come over here for a moment?”

almost everyone was currently heading out the door, off on their various ways for the evening aside from L, you, light, and misa. light had been discussing his thoughts about something with you while the others were busy and misa was awaiting a chance to convince light to hang out with her.

you excused yourself from your conversation with light and made your way to the opposite end of the room where L was sat in his usual spot in front of the television.

“what can i do for you?”

“actually i’d like to talk to you about something i want to do for you.” he said it as though light and misa weren’t 20 feet away, “well, to you, more accurately. i want to try something new, i wasn’t so sure i could do it but i believe i have a well enough understanding of what makes you tick to be successful.”

despite how casually and technical he spoke, every word was making that familiar damp feeling between your legs reappear. he was looking at you like he wanted to take a bite and it took everything in you not to fall to your knees right then and there, “uh, what exactly did you have in mind?”

“i’d really like to try my hand at performing cunnilingus. in fact,” he turned his head to look towards the others in the room, “let’s do it now. no time like the present eh?”

“L, whatever you’re thinking about is a bad idea. light and misa are right over there.”

“nevermind them, they won’t be able to see past the back of the couch, come and sit here.”

you nodded and he slid over and motioned for you to sit where he had just been, handing you his cell phone in the process, “if you get too nervous about them, speed dial light on this and it will send a message to his phone to meet down in headquarters. sound good?”

the second he saw you nod again, he crouched down to the floor in front of you and began working away at the clasp of your pants. he shimmied them down your legs and onto the floor, gently so as not to make a sound, your underwear going next leaving you fully exposed to him.

he was in awe. sure, he was now incredibly familiar with your body, but he’d never gotten as close as he now found himself. your pussy was just inches from his face, wet and waiting, all for him. his hands gripped the insides of your thighs, pushing them apart so he could get a better look at you in all your glory.

“would you look at this, you’ve gotten wet before i’ve even touched you.” he spread you further open with his thumbs, fingers still curled into your thighs and hot breath fanning over you, “i suppose it would only be right of me to clean up the mess i’ve caused, don’t you think?”

“yes, please.” your voice came out as barely a whisper, “but they’re going to hear you.”

“shh, just press the button and they’ll go away.” he pressed a kiss right above your clit and you had to bite your tongue to stop from crying out. even just keeping your head still was almost impossible.

you gripped the phone tightly in your hand as he kissed your clit this time, sucking it into his mouth gently.

he wasn’t trying to get you caught. that would undoubtedly be bad for the both of you, for both your jobs and your reputations. so why did he find himself itching to make you cry out? to make light and misa painfully aware of the fact that in the same suite they sat in talking innocently, L was making you feel the best that anyone could, so good you lost all sense of control and let them find out.

he knew you would never be able to show your face again had this happened though, so he reached a hand above him and clasped it over your mouth, “be quiet, i’m trying to concentrate.”

you squirmed under his touch and his tongue began to venture further, further inside his favourite place to be. he licked a stripe all the way back to your clit and your thighs instinctively squeezed shut around his head.

his hand muffled the whine that escaped you and you were sure someone would hear you. you clicked the button to dial light and finally tossed away the phone, gripping onto the couch cushions with both hands to keep yourself grounded.

you could hear his phone chime, followed by the sound of chairs pushing out and the door slamming. L paused his movements and was at last able to come up for air, mouth and chin now glistening in the faint light from the tv.

“finally i have you all to myself,” he readjusted so his arms curled under your legs, allowing him a better hold to keep them open wide.

he dove right back in, pointy nose prodding at your clit with every movement of his mouth making your body jolt. your hands worked their way into his already messy hair, holding onto it tightly as you began rocking your hips into his mouth, wet and warm and making you feel amazing.

“yes, yes just like that,” you panted out, “god that’s perfect L, please, don’t stop.”

he groaned into your pussy hearing you talk to him like that, sending a shockwave up through you. you were close, he could tell, he just had to get you there. he needed to get you there, to show you how good he could be for you.

you held him impossibly tighter to you as the knot in your stomach began to build, dragging yourself along his tongue hurriedly enough to make you wonder if he was able to keep up. your moans turned into high pitched whines as you approached your release, not a care in the world anymore about who might be around to hear you.

with both the pretty sounds you were making and the simple act of you using his mouth however you pleased, riding his tongue now to practically get yourself off, L felt so accomplished. knowing he could make you feel just as desperate for him as he felt for you was enough that he could die happy.

“oh fuck, fuck i’m gonna cum,” he was doing it. your whole body began to spasm and your back arched straight off the couch. he held you as still as he could and your legs once again closed around his head, this time squeezing for dear life as his tongue continued to work circles around your clit. all that was coming out of your mouth was babbles of his name and profanities.

as the pleasure soon turned into overstimulation, he continued without faltering his pace. he was determined. he was sure you’d probably had a good experience to compare this to, hell maybe even a great one, so he had to be sure he was the best.

“L, please, ‘s too much,” you whined, “it’s my turn.”

he pulled away entirely, coming closer to head level and giving your overworked pussy the break it was craving, “i’m sorry, i don’t recall saying anything about you getting a turn.”

“but what about you? just a taste, just quick.”

he cut you off by pressing his thumb down on your clit, the other hand moving up to cover your mouth again with a bit more force than the first time.

“i don’t know when you got it in your head that you run the show around here, but i suggest you get used to listening to me. keep being difficult and i’ll have no choice but to stop entirely.” he was bluffing, of course, but his stone cold expression didn’t give him away. his eyes trailed down to where his thumb was pressed, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile, “i really don’t want to have to do that. you just taste so, so sweet. think you can be good and behave for me?”

you nodded vigorously, pussy squeezing around nothing and begging him for attention again, the cocky, almost condescending tone in his voice making you shiver.

“excellent. now turn around for me please, hands on the back of the couch.”

you did as he asked the second he let go of you, hands holding firmly to the back of the couch and ass presented to him. you could hear his belt undoing, followed by a zipper and you braced yourself for him, but nothing.

L was a bit busy. stroking himself with one hand he stood to take in the sight before him. he had a bad habit of doing this, staring at you when he was supposed to be doing something, but he couldn’t help it. his eyes were glued to where you needed him to be, trying to carve the sight of it into his memory. his free hand held your waist as he finally lined himself up, coaxing another whine out of you as he bottomed out.

his thrusts started shallow and slow, your gentle moans fading into the background as he focused on how warm you felt.

you turned your head back to look at him, the sight of him looming over you with his jaw hung slack making you squeeze around him, “harder L, please.”

he switched to both hands and tightened his grip on your waist, “what did i say about behaving?” nonetheless, he was pushing into you much rougher now than before, yet still agonizingly slow.

“‘m sorry, it just feels so good.”

he began to pick up his pace, breathing becoming heavier the more into it he got, soon letting out little pants and groans of his own. generally, he was rather quiet during sex, only really vocalizing near the end when he couldn’t hold it in anymore, so the fact that he was talking to you and teasing you was a very pleasant surprise.

“yeah? does that feel good?” hearing you say just how good he was doing spurred him on even further, “do me a favour, id like to see the rest of you, please.”

you pulled the shirt you were wearing over your head as best as you could, L placing a hand on your sternum to hold you up. instead of letting you back down however, his hand trailed up to your chest, taking hold of one of your breasts as your back came flat against his chest. his chin rested on your shoulder and you could feel his sharp breaths hitting your ear, his racing heartbeat on your back matching your own.

the knot in your stomach returned, your pussy fluttering around him making him feel like he was on top of the world, “you— you’re so beautiful, god i could do this all day. look at you, so responsive to me, and such a good listener.”

all you could do was pant, his pace now unforgiving and making you feel like he was tearing you apart in the best way possible. he kissed behind your ear and let go of your chest in favour of rubbing gentle circles on your clit.

your whole body felt like it was white hot, “shit! yes, oh please L. i need it, i need you, please make me cum.”

he’d never heard you sound so frantic before and it was driving him up the wall, “y/n, you feel so incredible.” the more he spoke the quicker your release came rushing through you like a stampede, “i love feeling you around me like this, fuck, you’re just perfect.”

you gripped onto his arms and craned your neck to try and look at him, crying out pleas of his name and senselessly confessing to him how beautiful he was and how good he always made you feel. he held you impossibly tighter, his work on your clit long forgotten now as his only goal was to keep you as close as physically possible.

his hair hung low over his eyes, messy and sticking to his face from sweat. you were getting overstimulated once again but you’d lost all the sense in you to care, another orgasm bubbling up already because of it. L felt it, as if the look on your red face wouldn’t have given it away regardless, and his jaw fell open as his own release came creeping up on him.

his hips finally began to falter, a few loud, deep groans ripping out of him. his eyebrows knitted together and he shut his eyes, steady whimpers and groans falling out of him now as the two of you reached your peak together.

you felt him twitch inside of you, one of his arms reaching to hold the couch as his muscles began to give out on him. he placed sloppy, sweet kisses on your jaw before flopping down onto his back on the couch with an outstretched arm waiting for you.

he was back to normal, back to being his quiet self. you laid your head on his chest and he yanked the blanket from the back of the couch to cover the two of you, fingers gently tapping and tracing lines onto your bare back. this was your favourite part of it all, just laying with him and basking in what you’d just done.

for L, despite how much he craved the feeling of this, this was the part that would still make him question himself. when thoughts of self-doubt had an opening to creep up on him. the muscles in his hands twitched and the hold he had on you subconsciously tightened, dreading the moment you decide to get up and go to your room to take care of yourself.

every time you would bid him adieu, he could feel exactly where you had been laying become cold, physically reminding him of your absence. he couldn’t stand it. every night he tried to work up the courage to tell you to come back, to wait for him in his room instead, to ask you if he could come to bed with you, but every night the words would get caught in his throat and he’d choke.

you didn’t show any signs of getting up though, if anything you were letting yourself get comfier. he revelled in it, the whole room smelled a little like sweat but he found it almost sweet. maybe that would become his new favourite smell. he hoped you were as blissful as he was.

you trailed a hand up under the front of his shirt, letting your hand rest over his heart and feeling it quicken with every little movement you made.

“i really don’t want to get up.” you finally spoke, “i wish we could just stay like this.”

he winced, “don’t get up. you don’t have to.”

you tilted your head up to look at him, his face finally visible with his hair going every which way and his eyelids hanging half-closed. this was the most relaxed he ever looked, probably because he was far less concentrated than he usually had to be.

“we can’t just sleep here on the couch, L.”

we. we can’t sleep here on the couch, “we could. technically we can do whatever we want.”

he smiled at you, a coy little smile, and you knew you were so screwed.

“how about you go and wait for me in my room then?” he wasn’t looking at you anymore, too nervous for your response, “i just have to put all these files where they need to go, and maybe clean up a little.”

“really?”

“if that’s something you want to do, if not don’t feel like you’re obligated to say yes.”

“no i want to! i mean, as long as you’re sure you want me in your room.”

“of course i do.”

he sent you upstairs with his key card once the both of you were dressed again and you nervously waited for the elevator to stop on his floor. skipping the whole way to his bedroom, and once inside you tucked yourself away in the bathroom to clean yourself up.

when L entered the room, you were nowhere to be seen. he heard the sound of the running tap in the bathroom and decided to wait for you in the bed. he laid right in the middle, how he was used to sleeping, and watched you with a smile plastered on his face as you walked out of the bathroom and over towards him.

you climbed under the blanket with him and tucked under his arm, head laying on his chest and an arm stretched across his torso.

“your bed’s comfy.”

“it’s a lot more comfortable now that you’re in it.” he placed a hand on your head, “before you fall asleep, i want to tell you id like if you slept here more often. whenever you want, in fact.”

“i will be taking you up on that.” your eyes were closed, sleep beginning to whisk you away, “you’re about to see so much of me you’ll get sick of it.”

as he felt you shift into unconscious, breathing slowed against his chest and your body pressed against his, he was sure he was the luckiest man in world at that moment, “i’d never get sick of you.”

#l lawliet #l lawliet smut #death note #death note smut #death note fic #l death note #anime #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet fanfic #l lawliet fanfiction #l lawliet x you

745 notes · View notes

jeonginsleftcheek · 9 months ago

Text

Yes, master

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

word count: 3k

description: you and your boyfriend are youtubers who share cute prank videos on youtube. one day you decide to prank him with a maid outfit, and it ends just how you intended.

genre: smut, fluff

warning/s: use of master, spanking, lots of dirty talk, degradation & praising, reader is called slut, unprotected p in v (don't do it)

a/n: inspired by renjie&binbin on yt, go check them out, they're adorable. also yes another felix scenario, what can i say he inspires me hehe

Your outfit was finally here. You had ordered it on the internet 2 weeks ago when you planned out the next prank for your dear boyfriend. You couldn't be more excited.

Both of you loved playing harmless jokes on each other, and most of the pranks you did had the goal of riling each other up for later. Every time you turned off the camera, you would be all over each other, sometimes you'd even leave it on and later watch the footage together, careful to cut out the sexual part before posting the video online. You kept all the spicy parts to yourselves, it was somewhat of a private collection of yours.

You had quite a good following of loyal fans who watched you grow with each other through the last 6 years of your relationship. Everything was filmed, not only the pranks, but vlogs of your travel adventures, your move to a bigger apartment, you getting a promotion at your work etc. Both of you loved having sort of an online diary of your memories and loved sharing your good vibes with other people.

People always viewed you two as two cutie pies, yes, your pranks were suggestive but no one could guess how freaky both of you actually are. Felix especially was seen as this sweet innocent sunshine boy but you knew better. And that's why you couldn't wait to provoke him with that maid outfit you ordered.

The next morning, you quietly slipped out of bed, having to cautiously roll out of Felix's arms cause he always clung onto you like a koala while you slept. His brows furrowed and you gently pushed your pillow between his arms so it would replace you. You tiptoed to the bathroom, after grabbing the maid dress you hid in the closet last night. You got ready and hurried downstairs to make breakfast before your boyfriend wakes up.

When you were done, you ofcourse went to set up the cameras. One was above the bed, and you had to basically do gymnastics quietly just so you can set it up without waking Felix up. You also set up two other ones in different corners of the room.

"Hi guys! It's morning and Felix is still sleeping."- you say to the one of the cameras in the corner, moving your body as you scrunch your face up and point at your boyfriend's sleeping form behind you. "Sleepy head."- you giggle quietly.

"As you can see, I'm wearing a maid outfit. I'm going to prank him or rather surprise him today with serving him dressed like this all day."- you announce. "I'm also gonna call him master. Let's see how he reacts."

Satisfied with the intro, you go back downstairs to grab the tray with breakfast that you prepared. You set it aside on the night stand, and sit on the bed next to Felix.

"Lixie, wake up."- you whisper quietly, caressing his hair and winking at the camera above you.

"Mhm."- he grunts, eyes still closed.

"Lixieeeee. Baby. I have something for you."- you giggle as you continue carding your fingers through his soft hair.

"Mm. What?"- he turns to you and finally blinks his eyes open. He squints at first, the expression on his face that of confusion. He didn't register your outfit yet. You wait for him to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes.

"Oh."- his eyes widden when he takes in your appearance. You were sitting back on your feet, a skimpy maid dress revealing your plush thighs and giving you the perfect amount of cleavage.

"What're you wearing?"- he asks, blood rushing downwards, but then he notices the camera placed perfectly above his face, he groans and starts chuckling.

"I'm here to serve you, master. I made you breakfast."- you say and start giggling with him because that coming out of your mouth at this moment is funny to the both of you.

"Oh my god, you're crazy."- he laughs, his face red as he pulls the blanket up to his neck. "Wait."- he adds, his hand sneaking out from under the blanket and landing on your thigh.

"Are you wearing anything under this?"- he smirks, lifting up on his elbows and sliding his hand towards the hem of your dress.

"Felix!"- you squeal pointing at the camera and he laughs.

"What? We can cut it out later."- he chuckles, making a motion towards the camera.

"Stop it."- you laugh slapping his hands away. He groans again, smacking his head on the pillow.

"Come on, eat your breakfast."- you say. He sits up and looks right between your legs, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively.

"The food I made. With love. For my master."- you bat your eyelashes at him, you've never called him that before today but even though he was laughing at it because of the camera, you could see how it affected him.

"Ask nicely, hm?"- he says and there's a shiver running down your spine.

"Please, master?"- you bite your lip.

"Alright, when my baby put in such an effort."- he smirks and you chuckle at him. He grabs the tray but before he can put any food in his mouth, you grab the fork and bring it to his lips.

"Are you gonna feed me?"- he chuckles.

"Well yes. My master doesn't have to do anything. Today is the day I serve you master."- as you keep talking, his eyes are getting darker and your cunt is getting wetter. For some reason, you liked calling him that and liked seeing his reactions. You caught even the smallest ones, like his eyebrow twitching every time you said the word 'master'.

His hands kept wandering to your thighs as you fed him and you had to constantly remind him that the cameras were on even though you were pressing your thighs together. And he knew. You were getting needy too but he wanted to tease you too, it was one of his favorite things to do anyways.

So when you moved to the bathroom, carrying a camera with you, you grabbed his toothbrush and he chuckled again. He looked a bit flustered when he realized you actually wanted to brush his teeth.

"Y/n, that's sweet of you but I can do it on my own."- he chuckled, his hands coming up to hug himself as his face got redder. He glanced at the camera and you laughed, feeling shy suddenly.

"Please, let me do it. Master."

He couldn't say no. Both of you were trying not to burst out into laughter as you attempted to brush his teeth. It got too messy so he just grabbed the toothbrush and continued on his own as you playfully pouted at him.

"I'll help you wash your hair. Please, master?"- you ask when he's done.

"Sure, that'd be nice."- he chuckles.

You adjust the camera so the viewers can look at you both from the side. You put a towel on the sink so he can lean his head down, and he chuckles again, eyes trailing to the camera. You start getting his hair wet and Felix looks at the viewfinder, finding a blind spot where no one could see his wandering hand.

You almost jump out of your skin when you feel his hand on the back of your thigh but you opt to act like nothing is happening. Felix looks up at you innocently as you grab the shampoo. His hand slowly travels up, fingertips tickling your sensitive skin. His fingers come into contact with a wet patch that formed on the thin lacy panties you wore under your maid dress.

Your hands tremble and you almost drop the bottle of shampoo on his head, but for the sake of entertainment you ignore his hand and start joking around. He jokes back with you, but you can feel his fingertips pressing into your cunt, teasing you as he slowly runs them over it then to your clit, making little circular motions into it before sliding his fingers down your lips again. You let out a shaky breath and clear your throat to cover it up.

You start rinsing his hair out, and he decides to move your panties to the side just enough to uncover your hole before he pushes one finger between your folds. Your knees buckle but you chuckle nervously as he eyes you, his eyes darkened with lust but there's still an innocent smile on his face. If only the viewers knew.

You stay perfectly still, only spreading your legs a bit so he can fuck into you deeper. He's moving slow, torturing you but you know you brought that on yourself. As you grab another towel to dry his hair, he presses his thumb into your clit and pushes his middle finger deeper into you making you gasp.

"What's wrong, darling?"- Felix grins at you.

"N-nothing."- you shake your head glancing at the camera as you dry his hair. He pulls his finger out, moving his hand away from you much to your disappointment but you had to go get the hair dryer. You still need some content for your video. So you stand between his legs and dry his hair, his hands running up and down the back of your knees and thighs as you both continue chuckling and talking like he didn't just pull his finger out of your cunt. You're becoming desperate now and you can't wait to film the outro so you can turn off the camera and let your boyfriend fuck you.

But Felix had other plans for you. As soon as you walk back into the room, you put the camera down so you can film an outro together but before you can even start talking your boyfriend grabs your face and crashes his lips into yours.

"Lix-" - your voice is muffled as he kisses you harder and forces his tongue inside, making you moan into his lips. You grip onto his arms and try to pry him away from you.

"L-Lixie we didn't film an outro."- you heave, trying to catch a breath after he stole it from you.

"Oh we're filming it now, sweets."- he smirks at the camera and then looks back at you.

"You said you'd serve me all day. As far as I know it's not even noon so you're not done yet."- Felix says and he's rarely so dominant with you. It makes you tingle with anticipation.

"Get on your knees and serve me then."- he says, his voice low.

You look at him for a moment but there's nothing but dark lust in his eyes so you know better than to not obey. You slowly fall down to your knees as he pulls his pants and boxers down.

"And it's master for you, not Lixie, okay?"- he adds, his cock now inches away from your face, you lick your lips and nod fast.

"Words."- he warns, slapping your cheek with his hard cock and you whimper.

"Mm yes master."- you say and he smirks again.

"Open your pretty mouth for me."- he orders and you do as you're told, opening wide for him and he slowly pushes his cock in. You glance at the camera and see yourself in the viewfinder, your mouth stuffed full of your boyfriend's pretty cock.

You moan around him and Felix tangles his fingers in your hair.

"You look so pretty like this. Come on darling, show everyone how desperate you are for my cock."- he grips your hair pushing in deeper and you choke a little, tears forming in your eyes and arousal pooling on your panties. You start bobbing your head, taking as much as you can and jerking off the rest with your hand. Felix keeps grunting and holding your head in place so you don't dare lift off of him.

"Mm everyone will know how you're such a slut for me, darling."- your boyfriend coos at you and you feel like people are actually watching you do this live even though you know they aren't. It makes you feel so embarassed but so aroused at the same time, the thought of people knowing who you belonged to and whose cock you were drunk on. Your throat relaxed a little and you breathed deep through your nose as you slid down on Felix's cock, his tip hitting the back of your throat and your nose touching his navel.

"Fuck baby!"- he grips your hair hard, his legs shaking. "You're gonna make me come"- he hisses and pulls you off, a string of saliva between you and his hard cock.

He smirks at your expression, turning your face to the camera.

"She looks so fucked out and I haven't even touched her pussy"- Felix talks like he's talking to your viewers and a wave of hotness washes over you.

"Please."- you whimper.

"Please what?"- he looks down at you darkly.

"I need you inside me. Please master! I'll do anything!"- you beg on the verge of tears, your pussy aching for him.

"Anything?"- he lifts his eyebrow and you nod fervently.

"Oh, we'll explore that."- he smirks. "Face the camera."- he adds and you do as you're told, your heart beating fast in anticipation.

"Get on all fours, darling."- Felix orders and you do so, leaning down on your hands, your ass up in the air and legs spread for him. Usually, he takes his time with you especially with his tongue and fingers, he enjoys eating you out maybe even more than you do. But, today he's had enough of your teasing, the maid dress driving him more insane than anything you've ever worn for him.

You feel him massage your wet pussy with the tip of his rock hard cock and you melt instantly, leaning back to feel him more.

"Is this what you want, hm?"- he teases a little more.

"Please please please!"- you whine, pushing your ass into him.

"Fuck!"- he curses as he pushes his length in, his eyes rolling back as your cunt sucks him in fast, since you were so wet and needy.

You moan loudly at the familiar stretch, your boyfriend's cock fitting snuggly inside the space made only for him.

"So tight for me."- Felix whimpers.

He grips your hips and starts fucking you semi-fast and you start moaning immediately, scratching at the wooden floor beneath you.

"You want a good outro baby? How about this, hm? Letting everyone see how dumb you are on my cock."- Felix growls, pounding harder into you.

"M-master"- you moan, unable to form any coherent sentence with the force of his hips on your ass and his thick cock splitting you apart.

"Look at you."- he coos grabbing your hair and pulling your head back harshly so you can see yourself in the viewfinder.

"Taking it so well. Such a good girl. Made to be fucked like this."- he says lowly. Your mind buzzes along with your whole body and you think you've never came this fast or this hard.

Felix whines at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him.

"You came already? So desperate. So pathetic." - he chuckles at you, spanking your ass. You whimper and bite down on your arm to stop yourself from screaming at his words and his relentless hips.

"You like when I talk to you like this?"- he asks and you whimper and nod fast.

"Use your words!"- your boyfriend spanks you harder.

"Yes, yes master!"

"You like when I tell you that you were made just for this? To be fucked dumb on my cock. Just my little play toy."- he talks as he fucks you harder, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he pushes in.

"Mm yes master"- you whine, your mind cloudy.

"Made to please me. My little slut"- he chuckles darkly pulling on your hair and you explode all over his cock again.

"M-master!"- you cry out as he helps you ride your high. "I can't take anymore."

"Yes you can. One more. For me. Come on baby, you can come for me one more time."- Felix coos at you, hovering over you and caressing your hair, his hips less brutal but still moving deep inside you, abusing that sweet spot.

"I- I can't master please"- you whimper, but you know you're close and you want to obey him.

His hand is between your legs, fingers pressing into your clit as he flicks it and starts fucking you faster again.

"Oh my god"- you whimper, pushing back into him, the pleasure in the pain of overstimulation driving you wild.

"Yeah just like that baby. Fuck yourself on my cock."- Felix moans behind you, his hips stuttering and you know he's close too.

You keep pushing back into him in the same pace he's fucking you in, and it doesn't take long for you to be on the edge again. He knows when your pussy clenches around him deliciously.

"Come for me darling"- he says, gripping your hair and you do. But this time you squirt making him pull out and whimper as you coat him with your juices. Felix watches it slide down your thighs as he jerks off once, twice before he explodes, hot spurts of cum painting your ass and the back of your thighs, mixing with your arousal.

"Fuck"- he groans as you breathe hard. He hovers over you, moving your hair out of your face gently.

"Are you okay, baby?"- he asks, a sweet smile on his face, contrast to the dark look he was giving you just a few moments ago.

"More than okay. That was really hot."- you turn a little and he scoops you up in his arms, pulling you into his lap, not caring about the mess you both made.

"I agree. How about next time I wear the maid dress for you?"- he looks at you with big innocent eyes, the look everyone's familiar with but only you know the meaning of.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."- you chuckle and lean in to kiss his pretty lips.

"Mhm. But since I'm not done with you yet... how about you lay down on the bed and spread your legs for me?"

"Yes, master."

#skz x reader #skz smut #skz fluff #stray kids #lee felix x reader #lee felix fluff #lee felix smut #stray kids x reader #skz hard thoughts

615 notes · View notes

hamsterclaw · 11 months ago

Text

Yoongi’s a murder detective fighting burnout when he’s assigned the case that you and your former partner fucked up.

Paring: Yoongi x f! Reader

Genre: Detectives!Yoongi and reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of murder, bloodshed and assault, sex, depression and burnout, mentions of guns

The flashing blue lights in Yoongi’s window are followed by the wail of sirens cutting through the early evening bustle.

Yoongi looks out the window. He’s three floors up from street level, there’s raindrops tracking along the dirty glass, the faint smell of mildew that accompanies any rainfall in this filthy city.

Under the table, his good leather shoes, the ones he saves for weddings and funerals, have rubbed a hole in the skin over his achilles. Yoongi had worn them for his disciplinary hearing today, the part of him that still wants to be a cop temporarily winning over the part of him that doesn’t.

He wonders if this is what burnout feels like.

His superior, Kim Namjoon, had called him into his office after the hearing to tell him he was on probation, to clean up his act because he wouldn’t be so lucky as to get off next time.

The truth is, Yoongi had known while he was pressing the suspect’s face into gravel with his booted foot that it would come back to bite him on the ass.

He’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s never been kind to scum who exploit children, but his partner, Jung Hoseok, had seen something in Yoongi’s face that day that had made him report Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Hoseok has been his partner on and off for five years and he’s as sterling as they come. His moral compass is as strong as it was the day they graduated from the academy, despite all the fucked up shit they’ve seen.

Unlike Yoongi.

Yoongi was never black and white to begin with and now he’s so far into the grey he scares himself sometimes. It’s never been his goal to be the kind of cop who metes out his own justice.

Only madness lies that way.

Anyway now Hoseok’s been reassigned temporarily to narcotics, supposedly a break from homicide, and Yoongi’s partnerless.

Probably not for long, there’s always some hungry rookie wanting the credibility of working homicide.

Yoongi sighs, closes the file he’d been skimming. It’s well past seven, there aren’t any open cases that need his immediate attention and he figures he might as well go home to his apartment and his cat, Kenzo.

The pavement’s slippery under the smooth soles of his good shoes, Yoongi pulls his coat tighter against the early autumn chill as he walks the five blocks to his apartment.

The smell of fried wontons fills his nostrils as he passes a conduit street in the back end of Little China, Yoongi’s tempted to stop and pick up dinner.

He’s tempted every time and succumbed yesterday so he soldiers on, not without a pang of regret. He regrets food choices because he’d rather that, than think about his actual regrets.

The bang of a gunshot when he’d been two minutes too late to what then became a crime scene.

Fucking some girl with a cute face because he hadn’t been man enough to treat Mara the way she deserved.

Choosing to stay in homicide even after it had become clear to him that he had plumbed the depths of human depravity. Scarring his psyche repeatedly because it’s easier than making the active choice to request a transfer.

Yoongi unlocks his door, toes his shoes off, hangs up his coat.

There’s a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a flash of grey fur as Kenzo skitters across the entryway, close but not touching him.

It’s the kind of greeting Yoongi can get behind.

He pours out a serving of dry food into Kenzo’s dish, heads to the fridge to reheat yesterday’s wontons.

Eats standing at the tiny kitchen island, cracks open a beer to wash it all down.

He catches sight of his face, pinched in the scowl it seems to fall into more often than not these days.

Jesus, is he getting old?

Yoongi avoids looking at his reflection again as he showers. Changes into the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for weeks, contemplates watching porn just to take the edge off, but decides he can’t be bothered.

He falls into sleep, deep and dreamless, wakes up with an almighty crick in his neck just before dawn from the way he’d been huddled in a tight ball under the covers.

He knows he’s not right, but he’s been not right for so long Yoongi wouldn’t even know where to start putting himself together again.

***

Redemption comes in odd packages, Yoongi thinks, as he looks up a case he worked on six months ago, a shady businessman on the fringe of organised crime who’d got high as a kite and beat a sex worker to death.

He’d been killed on the way to serving out his sentence in the cushy prison in Busan his fancy lawyer had managed to negotiate, crushed in the back of the transport vehicle when it had been t-boned by a lorry.

Apparently a freak accident, Yoongi doubts it but he’s also not going to look too closely, it’s out of his jurisdiction and he’s too jaded to mourn the loss of another brutal asshole. They’d had to identify the sex worker by her dental records and DNA, her face had been unrecognisable.

There’s a knock on the frosted glass panel on his office door, Yoongi looks up as Kim Namjoon walks in, followed by the latest hungry rookie angling for a stint in homicide.

‘Min Yoongi, this is Y/N L/N,’ Namjoon says. ‘She’s a new transfer in from the Seoul branch.’

Yoongi doesn’t have to fake his disinterest as he nods politely at you.

‘What’s the case?’ he asks.

Namjoon looks pointedly at the crime scene photo blown up on Yoongi’s screen.

Yoongi waits.

He can feel your gaze on him, but he’ll get to that later.

The anticipation of a new case never gets old, he’s been in homicide since he graduated off the beat ten years ago and he no longer thinks it’s sick of him to get excited about another murder.

It’s the thrill of the hunt that he lives for, the translation of nebulous facts and witness statements into a puzzle that he can solve.

Yoongi’s damn good at his job. It almost makes the sacrifices in the rest of his so-called life worth it.

Namjoon hands Yoongi a case file, crisp, sharp edges waiting to razor his fingertips open. Flat.

Inside, the standard cover page, then a note that makes Yoongi sit up straight out of his slouch.

He looks at Namjoon to find Namjoon’s already looking at him.

‘The reaper of Seoul?’

Yoongi realises as he says the words out loud how it sounds.

The capture and subsequent conviction of the serial killer who’d terrorised the citizens of Seoul for three years had made headlines nationwide.

Last year.

‘Yeah,’ Namjoon says, the tension in his jaw evident now that Yoongi’s looking at him properly.

Namjoon glances at you. ‘It would seem he never left.’

You shift your weight and your eyes meet Yoongi’s.

‘My partner and I broke the case,’ you say. There’s a brittle smoothness to your voice that Yoongi recognises as a paper thin facade over the hauntedness underneath. ‘Turns out we didn’t.’

***

The note in the case file is a single sheet of letter paper, lined in blue.

The handwriting is precise, neat between the lines.

Oh dear.

Better luck this time?

Best regards from your neighbourhood Reaper.

Yoongi looks at you, sitting across the room at the desk Hoseok’s temporarily vacated.

You’re staring at your screen, face backlit in blue, expression unreadable. You’re in black, nondescript knitwear, your hair pushed back from your face, eyes narrowed.

He clears his throat. ‘You worked the case with your partner.’

It’s a statement you answer to like a question.

‘It was the first case I picked up when I joined homicide,’ you say, turning to Yoongi. ‘It started with -‘

‘Kim Seulgi,’ Yoongi says.

You nod, almost grimacing at the name of the Seoul Reaper’s first high profile victim.

‘Her family wanted answers.’

Kim Seulgi had been born of Seoul’s elite, an architect with her grandfather’s firm who had picked up a number of accolades for her work on the National Opera House.

She’d been engaged to an equally accomplished classical pianist, Jeong Minho, and had been the only offspring of her wealthy parents.

She’d disappeared three days before her wedding, only to turn up on her wedding day, floating in the Hangang, dressed in the clothes she’d disappeared in.

You say, ‘She was an ambitious first target.’

‘Was she the first?’ Yoongi asks.

The flicker in your eyes tells him this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this.

‘My partner Kiho.’ There’s strain in your voice. You start again. ‘My partner, Kiho, and I thought he’d killed before.’

You shrug. ‘The captain felt we were wasting time looking back into his early years.’

Yoongi says, neutral, ‘Budgets are limited, your case must have passed the thresholds for plausible deniability.’

‘It seemed to fit,’ you agree.

Your eyes meet again. ‘Not all of it, though.’

Yoongi knows, intimately, what it’s like to not be certain. Sometimes all you have is your instinct. It’s one thing to build a case no reasonable person would doubt, but you’re also betting on your gut. You’re betting on being a good enough detective to know that the pieces fit, without forcing them to fit.

You’re betting on being honest with yourself, and Yoongi knows more than anyone how tempting the lies can be.

Now you’re the one watching him, taking the measure of him.

His email pings.

‘That’s the link to the full case file,’ you say.

You get up, carry a stack of notebooks to his desk.

‘Our notebooks,’ you say.

Yoongi looks at the stack.

Every cop’s got their own collection of notebooks, raw data and impressions that don’t always make it into official reports.

The equivalent of dirty underwear when you’re not expecting company versus lingerie when you’re down to fuck.

This close, he can smell your shampoo, bright and faintly floral.

You blink at him.

‘I need to sort something with human resources,’ you say. ‘I’ll see you later.’

In actual fact it’s 36 hours later when he next sees you, at 4am, at a crime scene.

***

The rain falling is more than a drizzle, enough that the tent around the victim is the first priority.

There’s an imprint of violence in the air, Yoongi knows you feel it too by the way your lips tighten as you duck under the yellow tape to join him.

You nod at him in greeting, then there’s silence as you enter the tent.

The victim’s on her front, face turned to the right, hand tucked under her cheek.

She hasn’t been dead long enough for livedo to set in, she would almost look asleep if it weren’t for the purple of her lips, the greyness to her complexion.

The bath of blood she’s lying in.

Yoongi can just see the edge of the gaping wound on her neck.

You wait until forensics turns her body over.

The top three buttons of her silk blouse are undone, her chest slick with blood.

Yoongi’s reading the crime scene like he’s reading you, and he knows what you’re going to say before you say it.

‘It’s him,’ you breathe. The devastation in your eyes makes it difficult for him to look at you. ‘Fuck, it’s him.’

***

You’re shivering visibly despite the hot coffee Yoongi’s poured you, despite the fact that he’s turned the heating in his ancient Hyundai up as far as it’ll go.

There are droplets of water in your hair, sparkling incongruously in the gloom.

You’re waiting till first light to knock on neighbourhood doors, the victim was found in a quiet cul-de-sac.

Two minutes from her own front door.

Not much chills Yoongi these days but that fact does make him pause.

The audacity of it.

He says, ‘I have a blanket in the trunk.’

You’re protesting but Yoongi gets back out in the rain anyway, grabs the blanket and gets back in.

Hands it to you, takes your cup as you drape the blanket around yourself.

‘It gets colder here than Seoul,’ Yoongi offers, handing you your coffee back.

‘We fucked it up,’ you say, and Yoongi knows that’s what you’ve been thinking since you saw the body.

He’s just been waiting for you to be ready to say it.

‘So make it right,’ he says, simple.

‘An innocent man’s in prison because Kiho and I fucked up,’ you say.

Yoongi doesn’t want to minimise it but he doubts the man you put away was completely innocent.

‘I read your notebooks,’ he says. ‘Who’s Jeon Bogyeol?’

There had been twelve murders before the arrest. All women in their late twenties to mid thirties, all living alone.

They’d all lived in the same part of Seoul, but apart from that there was nothing to link them that he could find.

You look at him warily. ‘He was a night watchman at the apartments of seven of the women.’

Yoongi waits.

‘We cross-referenced staff at all the addresses, and his name kept coming up. Like Jang Daeseong.’

You flinch at the name of the man convicted of the murders, as though it didn’t fall from your own lips.

You keep talking, though, your voice never faltering. ‘We never found any links between Jeon Bogyeol and the other five women.’

‘Did he have a history?’ Yoongi asks. He’s looking out the window at the first rays of sunrise, muted orange through the rain. His shoulder aches, an old injury he doesn’t think about except when he’s tired, and cold.

‘There was a neighbour,’ you say. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, a tell Yoongi’s noticed for the first time tonight.

‘She called the police once saying she’d seen Bogyeol taking a woman into his apartment against her will.’

You’re frowning. ‘The beat cops who responded to the call out said there was no sign of anyone else in his apartment. The neighbour moved away.’

‘Moved away?’ Yoongi asks, and you glance at him, understanding the sharpness in his tone.

‘I was going to look into it when the Chief shut us down,’ you say. It’s stated simply, like a fact, no sign of defensiveness.

Yoongi offers you more coffee from his flask.

‘Where’s Bogyeol now?’

‘When the new letter came in I looked him up,’ you say. The steam rising from your cup obscures part of your expression for a moment, but Yoongi can hear the tremor in your voice.

‘He’s less than fifty miles east of here.’

Dawn’s breaking, the rain’s finally starting to peter out, but Yoongi’s chilled anyway.

***

The morning sun is high in the sky by the time Yoongi and you finish interviewing the neighbours and the new victim’s friends and family.

Yoongi’s phone rings. It’s Namjoon.

‘Can you talk?’ Namjoon asks.

Yoongi mouths ‘Namjoon’ in response to your inquiring expression, puts some distance between you and him.

‘Yeah,’ he answers.

‘The post-mortem results are back, and the preliminary tox screen is negative. The ME’s put the cause of death as exsanguination.’

Yoongi processes this. ‘It’s the same MO as the previous Seoul reaper victims,’ he says.

Namjoon sighs. ‘Has anything new come out of your interviews?’

‘No,’ Yoongi says. The victim had been well-liked, none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything, and on the surface of it there were no conflicts he could see. Her boyfriend of two years had been away on a work trip, his location confirmed around the window of the crime.

Yoongi’s looking at you as you wait against the car, and when your name comes out of Namjoon’s mouth he’s already got an inkling of what Namjoon wants to know.

‘I reviewed the case,’ Namjoon says. ‘There are no obvious flaws or errors in their investigation.’

Yoongi grunts. ‘There was a lead that they didn’t follow up on.’

He fills Namjoon in.

‘I’ll follow it up.’

Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder where her partner’s working now.’

Yoongi’s surprised Namjoon doesn’t already know, to be honest, he’s always two steps ahead of Yoongi.

He flicks his gaze to you again. You’re still waiting against the car, and there’s a loneliness to your posture, a fatigued downturn to your mouth that makes him say, ‘Hey Joon, I’ll call you back, ok?’

He ends the call, unlocks the car.

‘We should get back and compare notes,’ Yoongi says. His voice has dropped the way it does when he’s tired, and shit, he is tired. He hasn’t slept well for a while.

‘Let me drive,’ you offer. You take his keys, and your fingers brush his for an instant.

The contact, brief though it is, makes Yoongi’s skin tingle.

He wonders if you notice his reaction, but you’re already sliding in, adjusting the seat, starting up the car.

***

Yoongi wakes when you’re parking the car, sits up, a little embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking to gauge your reaction.

‘Don’t be,’ you reply. ‘I would have done the same if you’d driven.’

There’s a hint of mischief in the curve of your half-smile.

‘You mumble in your sleep.’

Yoongi rubs a hand over his face. ‘What’d I say?’

‘I couldn’t make out any words,’ you tell him, but there’s a twinkle in your eye that makes him wonder if that’s really true.

Mara is the only person who’s shared his bed in recent years, and she’d never mentioned anything.

You swipe your ID to get into the station, hit the lifts.

In the dire grey lighting you look almost as tired as he does.

‘Coffee?’ Yoongi offers, when you pass the vending machine on the way to the office.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re on your phone, frowning over a text.

Yoongi passes you a cup.

‘Problem?’ he asks.

‘Kiho,’ you say. You look at him. ‘My old partner. He wants to meet up.’

‘It’d be useful to talk through the case with him,’ Yoongi agrees.

Your expression is difficult to read. ‘He’s in a retreat a couple hours drive from here. He took time off after we closed the case.’

Yoongi gulps his coffee. ‘There isn’t anything else we can do here anyway, we’re waiting on leads.’

He reaches out his hand for the car keys. ‘I can drive.’

***

The retreat Kiho is staying in is set amongst the foothills of a mountain, rolling grounds all around, a view of the cliffs overlooking the sea.

It seems to Yoongi like a place only the very rich or the very damaged would live.

Unless you get better pay packets in Seoul he’s apprehensive about meeting Kiho.

You sign in at the front desk, the receptionist greets you warmly, like she’s met you a few times before.

You lead Yoongi through a huge lounge, through open patio doors and into a green. Yoongi’s looking around at the residents, scanning the area the way he does automatically whenever he’s in an unfamiliar place.

You’re waving a hand, and then you’re embracing a tall man tightly. Neither of you say anything but Yoongi can see the way your shoulders slump, like the tension’s draining out of you.

It’s only when the tall man looks up at Yoongi inquiringly that Yoongi notices the long scar running along his neck. Tracing the path of his jugular, vertical rather than horizontal.

Kiho extends a hand.

‘So you’re going to get our guy,’ he says.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say to that.

‘We’re going to get him,’ he says, finally.

Kiho turns to you. ‘You haven’t told him,’ he says to you.

You’re looking at Yoongi.

‘We can tell him now.’

***

‘I started getting notes after Jang Daeseong was convicted,’ you say. You’re sitting in a gazebo with Yoongi and Kiho, mugs of coffee in front of you.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

You flick your eyes to his, then look away, unlock your phone.

Yoongi takes your phone, scrolls through a gallery of pictures.

Lined paper, handwriting he’s seen before.

Yoongi reads through the content, then returns your phone to you.

‘The originals are with forensics,’ you tell him. ‘The paper and ink are generic, impossible to trace. There’s no trace of DNA, not so much as a partial print.’

‘The notes stopped coming last month,’ you say. ‘Right around the time I moved.’

Kiho’s scratching his neck absently, Yoongi catches how your gaze drops to his scar.

The length of it’s longer than a stab wound, he thinks the surgeons might have had to extend the scar to repair the vessels beneath.

You turn to Yoongi.

‘We have to stop him,’ you say. ‘Use me to lure him out.’

‘He nearly killed me,’ Kiho says. His expression is sober, his tone flat.

He stops there, but Yoongi can hear his next words, loud and clear.

What’s he going to do to you?

‘We can’t let him keep going like this,’ you say, very gently.

Kiho meets Yoongi’s gaze.

Yoongi doesn’t falter.

‘He has to be stopped,’ he agrees.

***

The drive back to the police station goes quicker - there’s something about seeing your old partner that’s given you a bump of energy.

Yoongi can practically feel the adrenaline fizzing in your blood, coming off you in waves.

He’s worried about the crash when the adrenaline ebbs.

He sure as fuck hopes you can cope with the lows better than he can.

He’d put in a call before you left the retreat, Namjoon’s fast tracking a last known address on the neighbour of Jeon Bogyeol who’d moved away.

You’re typing an address into the satnav yourself, face drawn, eyes serious.

Yoongi doesn’t have to ask whose address it is.

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he asks.

His voice is as neutral as he can make it but he already knows that you’ve made your decision.

It’s written all over you, in the way your shoulders are squared, in the tilt of your chin, in the way your hands are tensed into fists in your lap.

‘I need to see this through, Yoongi,’ you say.

Yoongi takes a moment.

‘What happened to Kiho?’ he asks.

‘He didn’t see who it was,’ you answer. Your eyes are fixed in front of you, jaw tensed.

‘He was heading home in between shifts and he got jumped in the car park under his apartment. If he hadn’t been found by the car park attendant —‘ you voice trails off, and you shiver.

‘He was lucky the car park attendant called for help right away. That his next door neighbour, fresh off a shift in the trauma department, arrived home when she did and was there to take over. That he lives five minutes on blue lights away from the best trauma centre in Seoul.’

You look at Yoongi. ‘Kiho’s damned lucky to be alive.’

‘It’s a different injury from the reaper’s usual MO,’ Yoongi says slowly.

You nod. ‘He was toying with us.’

‘You said you received notes from the Reaper,’ Yoongi says. He’s watching you carefully in the rearview. ‘What did they say?’

Your lips press together in a line, but your voice is steady when you answer.

‘He said he’d been watching me, and that he was coming for me. That I’d be his final kill.’

***

The address you’ve put in for Jeon Bogyeol is a house in a run down suburban neighbourhood, the type of place Yoongi grew up.

The houses are haphazardly arranged, like a careless scatter on a Monopoly board, connected by a warren of roads too narrow for more than one car to pass.

Yoongi can see you tensing up the closer you get to your destination, and after he parks and switches off the engine, he places his hand on your arm.

Your eyes are expressive, more so than your voice.

‘We haven’t got grounds yet for an arrest warrant,’ you say, flat.

‘We’re working the case,’ Yoongi replies. ‘And if it’s right, we’ll work it until it’s airtight.’

Your response is to stare at him a moment, then to push open the car door.

Yoongi notices that you’ve unzipped your jacket, making your holstered gun more visible.

His own gun presses against his hip, the weight of it reminding him that although he’s only drawn it a handful of times, each time has been with intent.

He sure as fuck hopes neither of you will have reason to draw your gun today.

***

The address is little more than a shack, a rickety door that looks like it’ll give under a strong kick, a boarded up window that’s visibly cracked.

Yoongi knocks, identifies you both.

Follows procedure because he’s determined to get it all right this time.

Get the monster locked up where he belongs.

You don’t have grounds to break down the door, at least not until you go round to the back and see the pink tricycle upended in the dirt, streamers splayed tendrils of pink and white.

There isn’t much that sends Yoongi into the grey as much as the suggestion that a child might be involved.

He doesn’t really recall looking at you to confirm, just knows that one minute he’s outside in the chill and the next he’s inside the shack, gun drawn, the metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.

There’s nowhere to hide in the empty shack, Jeon Bogyeol is gone.

You do a cursory search but both of you know you aren’t going to find your answers here.

Then Yoongi must blank out, because the next thing he hears is your voice, firm, saying his name.

He’s panting, covered in sweat, back against a wall, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his jacket to keep him upright.

He blinks, and you snap into focus. There’s ringing in his ears.

Your mouth opens, and the ringing stops. He hears your voice.

‘Let’s go, Yoongi.’

He lets you lead him out, folds himself into the passenger seat of your car, notes distantly how you put your hand on the top of the doorframe like you’re worried he’s going to bang his head.

You start the engine and then you drive, and Yoongi’s grateful that you don’t say anything at all, don’t ask for an explanation of why a fucking tricycle sent him into a tailspin.

Yoongi looks down in his lap because he’s not ready to see if you’re looking at him differently now that you’ve seen him wig out.

You put the radio on after a few minutes, stop at a drive thru after an hour.

It’s only when you hand him a coffee, silently, that he’s moved to speak.

He clears his throat, and you’re the one who speaks, still looking straight ahead, out the windscreen.

‘You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I’ll listen if you do, but you don’t have to.’

Yoongi chews on that a moment.

‘Three years ago I worked what we thought was a murder in Busan. It turned out to be an abduction.’

Yoongi laughs. There’s no humour in it.

‘We found her. She was still warm. If we’d been ten minutes quicker at figuring it out, if her fucking dad had told us about the business deal he had that had gone sour sooner, if I’d even just tried harder…’

His voice trails off.

He risks a glance at you.

You’re still not looking at him.

‘I can’t speak to whether you could have prevented it, Yoongi. All I know is that none of us come to work to do a bad job.’

Your hand lands on his forearm briefly.

‘Some days are just bad days at the office.’

It’s not the first time Yoongi’s heard it, but it’s the first time it’s been said to him with no judgement that he can hear.

***

When you get back to the precinct, Namjoon’s waiting.

He hands Yoongi another case file.

‘I got Jimin to follow up on those leads we talked about,’ Namjoon says, no preamble.

‘We visited Jeon Bogyeol’s last known address,’ you say. ‘There’s no one there now, but it hasn’t been long since he moved out.’

Namjoon says, ‘Keep me informed.’

He nods to the case file. ‘There’s some interesting information in there.’

As Namjoon walks off, you turn to Yoongi.

‘I’m going down to visit someone I know in forensics, see if they can check the house.’

Yoongi heads for your joint office.

There’s a cleaning cart parked just outside the door, which opens just as Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.

The cleaner apologises and bows politely.

Yoongi steps aside to let her pass.

‘You forgot this,’ he says, spotting the dusting cloth left on your desk.

He hands it to her and places the file on his desk.

Outside, it’s raining again.

***

Yoongi wakes with a jolt.

You’re perched on the edge of his desk.

‘You should go home, get some sleep.’

‘In the middle of an active murder investigation?’ Yoongi mumbles.

‘I’m one of the potential targets, remember?’ you say, grimacing. ‘He might come to us.’

At Yoongi’s expression, you say, ‘We’ve been doing nothing but following up leads since the last murder. The last investigation took months, almost a year. What are you going to do, not sleep until he’s caught?’

‘I don’t sleep much anyway,’ Yoongi says, but he knows you’re right.

‘I know you don’t,’ you reply. There’s an empathy in your tone that reminds him you’re a homicide detective too.

You exchange a look, and then you both speak at the same time.

‘I should go —‘

‘Do you like wontons?’ Yoongi blurts out.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Is this like inviting me in for ramen?’

‘What?’ Yoongi splutters. ‘No, not like that. There’s this place I go. They have—-‘

‘Wontons, I get it,’ you say. You get up. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

***

It’s been a while since Yoongi shared a meal with someone else, the last person was Hoseok, who could go straight from a crime scene to a steakhouse without turning a hair.

You’re chasing a wonton around your plate, fatigue lining the corners of your mouth.

Yoongi asks, ‘Where do you live?’

‘The other side of town,’ you tell him. ‘Near the financial district.’

‘Fancy,’ Yoongi muses.

‘More than I can afford,’ you say darkly. ‘If this case goes on for a while I’m going to need to move.’

You look up at him. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Close to here,’ Yoongi says.

‘Yeah?’

You put your chopsticks down. ‘I should —-‘

This time, Yoongi interrupts.

‘Do you want to come round for ramen?’

Your eyes meet, and there’s a beat of silence. Then a pulse of connection that sends heat through Yoongi’s veins.

Your knee brushes his under the table.

‘Yeah,’ you answer, deliberate. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

***

Yoongi’s always hated the preamble to a hookup, in his line of work uncertainty is a thing to be avoided.

You work the case until you get an explanation no reasonable person would doubt.

He finds himself waiting, though, now that you’re standing in his apartment.

You’re looking around, and he wonders if his existence seems as lonely on the outside as it feels on the inside.

He’s wondering if you’ve changed your mind, if you really did think he meant ramen, when you reach out and grasp the front of his shirt.

Slip the tips of your fingers just under, hold the placket as you use your other hand to unbutton. Start at his throat, work your way down, slowly.

His skin prickles under the warmth of your fingers.

You lean forward and press a kiss to the base of his neck.

Yoongi reaches up, slides a hand around the nape of your neck, and you tilt your face to his.

Close up, you’re soft.

Yoongi traces your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part.

You don’t say anything, though, and that’s ok, because Yoongi thinks you’re as talked out as he is.

It’s been a hell of a fucking day.

You’re kissing his neck again, instead of his mouth, and that’s ok, because this isn’t love, it’s comfort.

A human connection in a day filled with monsters.

Yoongi sighs as your hands slip over his bare chest, round to his back.

He helps you lift your top over your head, admires your breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric of your bra.

He cups the weight of them in his hands, and you moan.

Yoongi’s cock is filling out, and you’re undoing his belt like you want to see for yourself.

You drop to your knees in front of him, press your mouth onto the length of him over his boxer briefs, sigh with pleasure.

‘Not too much,’ Yoongi warns, ‘not if you want me to fuck you.’

You look up at him, hair mussed, a smile curving your lips.

You tug his boxer briefs down, and Yoongi curls a hand around himself so as not to hit you in the face.

‘Just let me —‘

You open your mouth to take him in, and Yoongi groans at the feel of your warmth.

When did he last —

His crown nudges the back of your throat, and you swallow, and he loses his train of thought.

He grabs your shoulder, tugs you up, kisses the smear of his own stickiness at the corner of your mouth.

The light slanting in through the window is hues of gold and orange, filling in the hollows of your face, outlining the curves of your body.

Yoongi has to stop looking at you because he doesn’t want to cry at how much he’s missed being close to someone like this.

‘Where do you want me?’ he asks, voice taut.

‘Anywhere,’ you say. ‘Just turn these fucking lights out.’

***

In the dark, Yoongi’s most enraptured by the warmth of you.

Your skin is smooth, so soft under his hands as he wraps his fingers around the curve of your hips.

His cock glides in and out of the heat between your legs, and your moans are beautiful but what really gets him are the hitches in your breathing as he moves.

He turns you over, onto your back, and you pull him to you. Your mouth opens on his shoulder in what would be a kiss if you weren’t biting down. Your tongue flicks over his bruised skin, an apology.

You haven’t spoken to each other in words in a while but Yoongi doesn’t think either of you need words right now.

At least he doesn’t.

You’re tightening around his cock now, your cries quickening until you gasp his name in a tone that makes him grunt and his hips jerk, taking him deep as he can go.

Even in his pleasure he makes sure not to crush you as he collapses next to you.

Then you’re up, walking over to the window, pulling up the sash, lighting a cigarette without asking if he’s ok with it.

Yoongi admires the outline of your profile against the glass.

‘I needed that,’ you say, taking a drag, hunching a little to blow smoke out of his window.

‘Me too,’ Yoongi says, honestly.

He ties off the condom, gets up to toss it in the trash on top of yesterday’s takeout.

Pours you a glass of water on his way back to bed.

He half expects you to be dressed, and you are, but in his clothes, not your own, an old t-shirt he’d tossed on the chair by the bed yesterday morning before he left for work.

He can’t see your face clearly in the dark. It makes it easy to find his voice.

‘You should stay,’ he says. ‘We can get coffee in the morning.’

You’re quiet. ‘I want to.’

Yoongi climbs into bed, and after a moment you slide in next to him.

Your bodies aren’t touching at all, but somehow having you there with him is enough.

Yoongi means to check on you, but he’s asleep so quickly he doesn’t get a chance to.

***

There’s a basketball hoop set into the wall in the back end of the station, a concrete square with a chain-link fence.

The building opposite is a block of offices, as is the building next to it.

Yoongi makes the shot, and you grab the ball on its first bounce.

You say, ‘Forensics got nothing from Jeon Bogyeol’s shack. He bleached the shit out of the place before he left.’

Yoongi grunts, watches you point and shoot.

He’d read through the file Namjoon gave him on the neighbour - it’s incomplete but she was last seen alive twelve weeks ago in a coastal town.

There’s something niggling at the back of his brain, he’d suggested shooting hoops in the hopes that the activity might shake the thought loose so his conscious mind can make the connection.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

Namjoon.

‘I’m going up to see Namjoon,’ he says. ‘You coming?’

‘I’ll stay here for a bit,’ you say. ‘I’ll be up in a sec.’

Yoongi shrugs, lets himself back in.

Takes the stairs up to Namjoon’s office on the third floor.

There’s a cleaning cart parked next to the staff kitchen as he rounds the corner.

Yoongi’s about to knock on Namjoon’s door when his scattered thoughts crystallise.

The case file Namjoon had given him had a grainy photo of Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour, the one who’d reported him and then disappeared.

He’s seen her face before, and recently.

Coming out of your office.

‘Fuck,’ he swears.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket, dials your number.

Your phone rings, and rings.

Yoongi takes off, down the stairs, back the way he came.

By the time he bursts out of the back door of the station, gun drawn, his heart’s thumping triple speed, but his hand is steady as he aims it at the man with a knife standing over you.

His finger goes from trigger guard to trigger.

‘Fucking drop it,’ Yoongi warns.

He doesn’t, so Yoongi shoots.

***

Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour who had reported him was called Seo Hyerin.

She was in her early forties, an ex-teacher who he’d coerced into helping him by turning up at her new place even after she’d moved to get away from him.

She’d been too scared to disobey him, but in forcing her to help him, Jeon Bogyeol had given her access to enough information to clinch the case against him.

Once she’d found out he’d been shot and was likely to go straight from hospital to prison, she’d shared all that information with Yoongi and you.

The pieces fell into place so easily there was no need to make any of it fit.

And now Yoongi’s sitting in the kitchen of your apartment, watching as you pack things up.

He’d been right. Your place was fancy.

You were being transferred back to Seoul to finish up, see things through with the case.

He realises you’re looking at him.

‘My new place is a couple hours drive from here,’ you say.

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi says, like he hadn’t already looked it up.

He’d also looked up timed automated cat food dispensers, just because it was one thing to have a neighbour drop in and feed Kenzo if he’s stuck with a case occasionally, but it’s another thing if he’s regularly going to be driving down to see you.

If he’s regularly going to be spending the night away.

It’s uncharacteristic, for him, but he’s hopeful.

‘I slept pretty well that time,’ you say, looking down into your box.

You look up at him, and the curve of your lips makes Yoongi think to himself that he’d like to kiss you, sometime.

‘In your apartment,’ you clarify, like he wouldn’t already know.

‘I make good ramen,’ Yoongi says. ‘I can make it again for you, you know.’

You laugh, and the sound makes Yoongi feel warm.

He realises that he’s smiling.

Fuck, it’s been a while.

#bts fanfiction #bts smut #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi smut

643 notes · View notes

russo-woso · 8 months ago

Text

Enchanted || Alessia Russo

Based on this request here. Thank you for the idea :)

Summary Yours and Alessia’s first date

Joining Arsenal had been one of the toughest parts of your career.

You were happy playing at Manchester City but when they got a record breaking bid for you, they couldn’t say no.

You knew a few of the girls internationally, for example your Australian teammates, Steph and Caitlin.

What also helped was that one of your best friends, Kyra Cooney-Cross was also joining Arsenal.

You were even more at peace when kyra told you the news.

You and Kyra hadn’t been friends for a long time, only becoming close within the last two years whilst she’s been in the senior Team.

At camp, it was always you, Kyra and Charli, everyone knew that was the iconic trio.

So it was no surprise when Kyra also announced her move to Arsenal.

When you arrived at training for the first time, there was a group of 6 of you that had been taken to the side for a tour around the training grounds.

Arsenal had signed 6 new players over the course of the summer, one of them being a player you knew quite well.

Alessia Russo.

With you playing for Manchester City and her playing for United, it was a big deal when it came to playing each other.

The Manchester derby was a time to show off the true colour of Manchester so it was always a violent game.

Alessia was a centre forward and you were a centre back so when it came to the pitch, you were always around each other.

Every time there was a tackle, you both showed your respective, kind personalities by asking one another if you were okay.

It wasn’t a big deal and it wasn’t necessary but you both chose to do it.

You always liked Alessia, but more in a friend way.

It wasn’t until after the World Cup when that changed.

In the semi finals of the World Cup, England beat Australia 3-1, Alessia scoring the final goal.

After a moment celebrating with her teammates, Alessia walked over to you where you were sat on the floor.

You weren’t sad, in fact, you were happy.

You’d seen the growth of women’s football with your own eyes, and it was all because of the World Cup, and that made you so happy.

Of course, it was devastating being knocked out of a home World Cup, especially when you were so close to reaching the final stage, but it is what it is, and you along with your team, had put up an excellent performance over the summer.

But seeing Alessia made you even more happier.

She crouched down next to you, rubbing your back as you smiled at her.

“Thank you.” You told her, making eye contact with her.

“Don’t thank me.” She replied, and you smiled at her kindness. “Shirt swap?”

You nodded embarrassingly quickly, and you found yourself taking your shirt off and giving it to Alessia, her doing the same thing.

As you and Alessia said your goodbyes, you stopped her quickly.

“Alessia?” You shouted

“Yeah?”

“I’ll see you in London.” You smile at her, a big smile also appearing on her face.

“You will.”

That’s what lead to the moment where you actually saw her in London.

Your eyes caught hers as you were shown around the gym.

Her silhouette crosses the room over to you and you start to make a playful conversation with her.

The conversation never seemed to stop, the both of you talking about your backstories, your families, just everything.

It wasn’t until you finished the tour when you realised just how long you’d been talking for.

You noticed Alessia shy away as the tour finished, a whole comparison to the Alessia who was just talking to you.

“What’s wrong, Alessia?” You asked, worried that you’d done something wrong.

After the semi final, you realised you liked Alessia more than just a friend, and you wanted to make a really good impression during the first time you actually got to have a full conversation.

“Would you up for continuing this conversation over a coffee, or dinner. We don’t have to, it’s just—” Alessia blurted out, but you cut her off before she started rambling.

“—Of course, less, I’d love to.”

“Oh, okay.” Alessia took a breath, clearly shocked with your answer. “When are you free?”

“Tonight I’m unpacking all my boxes but tomorrow night?” You ask her, and she nods quickly.

“That’s perfect.”

“See you tomorrow, less.”

—

That same night, you couldn’t get any sleep.

It was far too difficult to get to sleep.

Question and thoughts flowed through your head non stop.

Did Alessia like you back or was she just being nice?

Do you love Alessia?

Was she even into girls?

The one thing that you couldn’t keep your mind off was the thought of Alessia being in love with someone else.

The only thing you could do was pray that Alessia wasn’t in love with someone else, that she doesn’t have somebody waiting for her.

—

The following day, was one where you wish the world could have swallowed you up.

You were so excited for your date dinner with Alessia, but the nerves of the whole thing was starting to set in.

You had a fashion emergency and had to call Kyra to come over.

You had no clue what to wear. You were originally going to wear some jeans and a crop top but you didn’t know if you liked the combination of them.

Although Kyra wasn’t the best at fashion, having someone else’s opinion always made it better.

“I like it, but it’s missing something. Here, try this on with it.” Kyra looked through your wardrobe, handing you a denim jacket.

“Thanks, Ky.”

“Now, go be yourself, enjoy yourself, and have fun.” Kyra said, and you gave her a worried look.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t the normal Kyra I know. The Kyra I know is never this mature.” You joked and she shoved you lightly.

“I’m being serious, have fun, okay? Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” You squeezed her tight before she left the house.

It had been agreed that Alessia would pick you up and drive you to the restaurant.

When you heard a knock on the door, you took a deep breath in, before opening the door.

“Hi, less.” You welcomed, hugging her as she also said hello to you.

“You look incredible, Y/N.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

She guided you to the car, before driving to the restaurant.

On the way there and during your dinner with her, a smile never left your face.

Everything Alessia said made you so intrigued and made you fall more and more in love with her.

You and Alessia paid the bill before driving you home.

You couldn’t help but blush on the way home.

You were so caught up in wonderland that you didn’t realise the familiar driveway of your home.

“Thank you so much for tonight, lessi. It was flawless.” You said, leaning over to hug her.

“It was. We’ll do it again. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” Alessia said, and you nodded.

“See you tomorrow.”

You got out the car, grabbing your keys and walked up your driveway.

You didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t know wether to go inside or wether to turn around and smash your lips onto Alessia’s.

At the exact same time, you both shouted each others names.

Alessia had gotten out of the car and was starting to run towards you.

As you met in the middle of your driveway, Alessia grabbed you hips and your hands landed on the back of her neck.

After what felt like hours, you both leant in and your lips connected with one another’s.

You smiled into the kiss before you both broke it for air.

“It was enchanting to meet you, lessi.”

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #alessia russo #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

284 notes · View notes

thewritetofreespeech · 18 days ago

Note

Can I request NSFW headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor overstimulating his female s/o please?

Astarion

Overstimulating his partner is probably one of the things that Astarion enjoys most.

He loves watching them fall apart. Their world reduced to just him and the pleasure. Watching those pretty tears well up in their eyes.

Astarion won’t stop until they are begging, and then he finally releases them.

He whispers sweet nothings about what a good job they did and how sweet they are, as he comforts them.

Gale

Gale is into pushing limits (as we all know) and pushing his partner’s limits are one of his favorites.

Having sex corporeally again, Gale wants to re-remember everything about it, and what satisfying his partner. He is a stickler for research.

Gale will tease every part of their body and catalog the response. To the point that every touch causes a reaction and the research is moot.

He also has an arsenal of magical naughty tactics to help. Should his fingers need a rest.

Wyll

King of the Slow Burn, Wyll likes to take his time with his partner.

Whether it’s the first or the fortieth time they have had sex, Wyll always takes his time. They’ve waited long enough to enjoy.

He wants them to experience all life has to offer. Hear their moans, their gasps, their pleas for more or less.

It’s a blissful torment for him as well, as Wyll is not immune to any of this. But the waiting makes it all that much more worthwhile.

Halsin

As a purveyor of all things sexual, Halsin has tried overstimulation before with his partners. He likes the wait, the build up.

As with nature, a great passion takes time to grow like the mighty oak. And he would experience all that nature and his partner has to offer.

Halsin is open to all forms of stimulation but prefers his hands and mouth.

He would spend hours drinking their sweet honey, to the point that they and their sex was beginning them to stop. Which he does immediately if asked.

Dammon

It’s not intentional. Genuinely, that is not his goal.

Dammon just likes to cuddle and is very into frottage. Being close to his partner and just kissing & holding each other his actual preferred method of intimacy, over sex.

He’ll do it for hours if they have time. Not realizing that his partner is overstimulated until they beg him to fuck them.

Dammon will of course be surprised, blush, but happily comply.

Rolan

Much like Gale, Rolan has several magical attributes at his disposal. But unlike Gale, Rolan is not going this for ‘research’.

He abuses his powers to bully his partner. Possibly over some comment about his prowess or to get back at them for an argument.

The wizard would torment his love past the point of tears & apology. Eventually ending their torture with a mind shattering orgasm.

Rolan will apologize after. Realizing after, like with most things in his life, that he went too far. He would be apprehensive to try it again, even if asked.

Zevlor

Zevlor is less familiar with this practice. However, he is willing to try anything his partner wishes in the bedroom.

They start out slow. Calculated. Zevlor wants to make sure that he is doing it right and doesn’t want to hurt them.

He almost gives up when seeing their agony because of this. Not sure where the ‘ecstasy in agony’ comes from but continues as it is their request.

Afterwards he tells them that he enjoyed it, but Zevlor would prefer not to try it again. Maybe with him on the other end but he’s just not cut out for ‘tormenting’ his lover.

135 notes · View notes

lullxby · 1 month ago

Note

hi love!! could you write a jj x reader where he is in love with her but is scared to commit to a relationship because he’s never truly been loved before and doesn’t rlly think he deserves it? and it’s reader’s first relationship too? <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY (j.m.)

(jj maybank x kook!reader)

summary : in which a boy loves a girl so much it scares him.

w.c. : 2.3k

a/n : ughh LOVED this request, part two in the process but im trying to get something out for each character i have requests for rn!

warning(s) : angst, slight misunderstanding,

| outerbanks masterlist | navigation |

jj maybank loved you. you knew it, he knew it.

he even thought you felt the same. from the way you’d carefully clean out his wounds in the dead of night, or the way you’d make sure he ate at your house because you knew it was one of the only times he’d be fed. all of it make him believe his feelings were requited.

you were so, so good to him. too good, in fact. too good to be true.

he didn’t deserve it. he didn’t deserve any of it— your gentle touches, the sweet treats you’d give him, none of it. he was too rough for someone like you, too violent.

he had hurt so many people, you had to know about it. if you knew about it, there was no way your intentions were good, no matter how much his gut was screaming at him to just give in.

you’d just end up hurting him, that had to be your goal. some sick joke to laugh about with your friends. either that or he’d hurt you. the latter was more likely, he knew that in the same way he knew he loved you.

but, he needed an excuse to flee. he convinced himself it was some cruel style of humor, telling himself he had a right to leave you like this, to ghost you like this.

once he had continued telling himself it was all fake, he actually believed it. it made every time you hung out feel fake, as though he was just putting up appearances. he could tell you were getting confused by his change in demeanor, and wanted to ask him about it. if you did, he wouldn’t know what to say.

so, jj stopped showing up.

he sat comfortably on the chateau couch, the old worn out fabric rough against his legs. his friends were arguing and panicking about something he didn’t care about, or couldn’t bring himself to care about. his mind was stuck on you.

every time his phone would vibrate, he’d desperately want to give it up and text you, saying he’ll be there as soon as he could. but he couldn’t. it was either you end up hurting him, which he couldn’t see happening because you’re so you, or he hurts you. he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt you.

so he didn’t answer your calls or texts.

1 missed call from y/n ❤️

y/n ❤️

i thought you were coming over?

Delivered 4:58pm

he sighed, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. It was almost two hours after he was supposed to be at your house, and even longer since he begun planning this detachment. he shifted uncomfortably in the seat, ignoring you causing an ache in his chest.

his friends looked over towards him, noticing the squeaking of the pullout couch. he had been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time. no matter what, he’d jump into an argument full on. yet he had stayed silent.

“dude, what’s the matter with you? you’ve been weird all day,” kiara pointed out, frowning a bit.

he opened his louth to answer, only to be cut off by sarah. the cameron girl had known you, having attended the kook academy together when you were younger. you were always sweet, so she was happy when you started hanging around for jj.

“yeah, and where’s y/n?”

his jaw clenched at that one. jj knew sarah was a fan of you, meaning john b. was too, and cleo thought you were kind, meaning pope thought well of you as well. it was like they were waiting for him to speak badly about you then shun him for it.

at least in his eyes. he felt he was going crazy.

“she’s busy,” he answered, his tone telling them to just drop it.

he punctuated his two word sentence by getting up from the couch, going out to the screened in porch, plopping down out there away from the group, leaving his phone inside where he couldn’t feel it vibrate as you texted and called.

god, you were too sweet for him. he’d just ruin you, like he did everything else.

the rest of the night passed by slowly. everything felt so much quicker with you. he had mentioned it once before, causing you to make some joke about having fun when time was flying. he couldn’t remember it exactly, and suddenly wished you were here to repeat it to him.

over and over again.

but you weren’t, thanks to him. even when you guys weren’t with each other, you’d still text and call each other. maybe this was for the best; he was too dependent on you anyway.

he fell asleep out on the porch, and you fell asleep alone in your bed. the window was left unlocked and cracked open, despite the cool air blowing in. just in case.

he never came.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

jj woke up around 10 and walked inside, noticing how everyone seemed to be still asleep in their respective areas. he spotted his phone on the couch, and made the mistake of checking it.

he scrolled through the notifications left by you, not opening them so it wouldn’t say read.

3 missed calls from y/n ❤️

y/n ❤️

jayyy

hello???

7:37pm

this isn’t funny, i’m worried about you

11:21pm

it wasn’t like him to just ignore your texts, especially if you called him. so you had sent this last one. which had happened to catch his eye.

y/n ❤️

atleast let me know you’re okay.

please?

delivered 12:07am

then nothing else after that. you had probably fallen asleep, he knew how you didn’t like staying up late. yet there you were, past midnight for him.

it was because you understood how his life could get sometimes. how he’d get busy, but more importantly, how he’d get hurt. it could’ve been by kooks (maybe starting something on the way to your house), or at the hands of his father.

you weren’t even mad at him, and if you were you weren’t showing it. his heart clenched at the thought. he couldn’t help it, he texted back.

jj 🌊🤍

im finw

read 10:52am

you read the message as soon as he sent it. of course you did. you had been waiting all day and night for him to answer. as soon as you read it, not like it took you long, you got more frustrated.

you had every right to be. he had ghosted you, then all you got was two words in response, and he couldn’t even bother to spell one of them right! you took a deep breath, trying to calm down. if you took it out on him, it’d only get worse.

he got another message, as soon as he had finished with his phone and shut it off.

+1 (123) 456-7890

i missed you yesterday

delivered 10:55am

he knew it was you, seeing your number instead of your name did nothing to change that.

he didn’t even open it.

maybe he was just going through something, you told yourself. it seemed like you guys had been close, close enough to where he’d come to you, but who knows. it could be too personal.

and in that case, he wouldn’t want to be bothered. you sighed, the thought bringing you back to the first time he had come over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ FLASHBACK

jj had just gotten done surfing, it was obvious from the slightly damp state of his hair and the smell of salt water wafting off him. you had thought it’d be awkward— and so did he, you two were from completely different worlds.

but it wasn’t.

it was as if you guys had known each other for years.

the afternoon had flashed by, eventually ending with you and jj curled up under the many blankets you had oiled on your bed. the covers didn’t slip by without jj teasing you about them, saying something like ‘it’s summer, how do you sleep with this many blankets,’ while pretending to be drowning in them.

after the two of you had calmed down, you had ended up lying on top of his chest, messing with the chain that hung from his neck.

“y’know, i didn’t think you’d wanna come. thought i was jus’ some kook girl bothering you,” you had mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks with the lack of confidence you had shown.

he had just responded with a laugh, pressing a chaste kiss against your head, and saying “you could never bother me.”

but now, as he failed to return your texts, or even read them, it felt like that was all that was happening. like you couldn’t stop bothering him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ PRESENT

jj shoved his phone in the pocket of his cargo shorts, sighing harshly as he did so. this was proving to be way more difficult than he had thought it’d be.

the boy ran a hand through his hair, not having his hat with him to readjust kn his head a thousand times.

he couldn’t stop thinking about you. how sad you may be, how angry (though he doubted that), how hurt. and the fact he knew he was doing that, that he was at fault? it was the worst feeling he thought he’d ever feel.

he kept strong, though, knowing deep down that it’d be worse if he kept going. he’d hurt you worse. he couldn’t do that. you weren’t just another one of his hookups. hell, the two of you hadn’t even had sex yet.

you wanted to wait, so he respected that. he honestly partly expected it. you weren’t like him. you weren’t the type to have casual hookups here and there. one time you had even told him you hadn’t been in a relationship, like, ever.

what he didn’t expect, though, was sarah’s words, emerging from the hallway that led to her and john b’s room.

“y/n’s coming over.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ YOUR POV:

you knew the way he looked at you couldn’t be nothing. it meant something, just as the way he’d hold you did. maybe you didn’t have much experience to base it off of. maybe you were grasping at straws to prove to yourself that he had felt the same way about you that you did him, even if it was just for once.

but maybe, just maybe, he truly did feel the same way about you. you checked your phone almost every five minutes, in such a way that if you did it enough, it’d magically make his notification appear.

your hopes of a magical miracle were futile, as your message not only went unanswered, but unread as well.

did you do something wrong?

was this because you didn’t want to do anything yet?

he hadn’t cared when you had shut him down, he had just pulled you back into his arms and held you. even if he had cared, he didn’t show it. he still came over just as much, and he still treated you the same

that was the only apparent ‘reason’ he would be doing this, and it barely was one. you hadn’t been rude, you hadn’t talked badly about him or his friends to your own. his motivation for this whole ‘cold shoulder’ thing was a mystery.

the familiar ding came from your phone, signaling you had a message. you lunged for it, as if it were a bar of gold. it wasn’t jj, but it was sarah.

sarah 🫶🏻🐻

why haven’t you been coming around lately?

kie and i miss you :(

*1 image attached*

read 11:37am

you opened the attachment, a photo of the two girls pouting at the camera, an edited tear drop under each other their eyes. you laughed lightly at it, surprised st the fact they cared that much.

you and sarah had just begun getting close again, having known each other in your tween years. she introduced you to kie once when you were over, and you guys clicked almost instantly, but were nowhere near best friends.

you responded something casual, mentioning how you had been busy lately, not wanting to bring up the stuff with jj. you didn’t doubt they could figure out what happened— he was the main reason you came over, and he had been ‘way moody’ lately, as sarah would describe it.

sarah 🫶🏻🐻

too busy for a girls day? we wanna see you!!!

read 11:39am

you smiled at the offer, instantly accepting and saying you’d be there at noon. that gave you around twenty minutes to get ready and drive over, which would be plenty of time.

*sarah 🫶🏻🐻 loved your message*

you shut your phone off after seeing the notification, going back into your bedroom. as soon as you entered, your eyes flickered over to one of jj’s t-shirts flung over your vanity chair, and his hat hung on your bedpost.

you changed into an outfit that was cute but comfortable enough to walk around in, your hair already done and just needing a refresh from the humidity. after that was done, you folded up jj’s t-shirt, placing his hat on top.

if he was truly done, though you hoped he wasn’t, he’d want those back. you opened your phone, texting sarah to let her know you were on the way over.

it shouldn’t be too long until you got there, and you and jj could only hope it wouldn’t be too awkward.

dividers made by h-aewo!!

#jj maybank blurbs #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank #outerbanks blurbs #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x kook!reader

108 notes · View notes

alphajocklover · 5 months ago

Text

Genie Glory the Game

(A [Very Late] Trade with @bigwishes. I hope you like it!) 43 followers. Rich Donaldson, also known as TF2Twink on Twitch, had 43 followers.Rich had been streaming for over 3 years now and only had 43 followers. 43 measly followers. It made him feel pathetic. It made him feel like he was useless. Yet at the same time, Rich was incredibly grateful for every one of those followers.

Rich Donaldson had wanted to become a gaming streamer since he was a kid. It hadn’t really been a real thing until he was a teen, and most people thought he was crazy for thinking he could make money that way. Some people doubted it was a real job, some thought it was too competitive, some thought it was just a dumb idea in general. No matter what the reason, everyone in Rich’s life agreed that Rich wasn’t going to make it as a streamer. Especially his hyper religious, video game hating parents. Still Rich refused to give up. He knew it would be hard, maybe impossible, but he was passionate and felt like he had to follow his dream. That was what everyone in the movies did after all. Rich moved out, cut contact with his parents, went into debt buying the best streaming gear he could… and immediately regretted it. Rich didn’t mind losing contact with his parents. They had never been the most loving people, so he hadn’t really lost much. Except things weren’t working out like they did in the movies. Rich wasn’t making it, and worse than that he wasn’t getting any better at streaming. He was good at the games, so he knew that wasn’t the issue. The issue was… he was incredibly, painfully, horribly shy. Rich didn’t have the confidence that a streamer needed. He could barely get a word out during the stream without starting to awkwardly ramble, and even when he did he came off as awkward and weird. He wasn’t just unconfident, he was a downright nervous wreck. Still he didn’t give up. He couldn’t after everything he had thrown away to get this chance… all the sleepless nights working part time jobs to stay above water… he was in too deep. So he kept going “Hey chat! S-so t-today…” Rich took a deep breath, trying his best not to ramble “T-today I’m going to be playing a new game. I-it’s not very well known, but i-it looked cool and I’ve heard a lot of people are playing it… S-so let's get into ‘Genie Glory the Game!” Rich said, trying to be excited. Barely anyone was watching, and it was getting hard to pretend he wasn’t incredibly depressed, but he kept smiling. Genie Glory was a pretty simple game with a simple premise that had been baffling gamers for months. It was a pretty simple idea based on a classic scenario. You play a random guy who has discovered a genie’s lamp and now has 3 wishes. You make a wish by typing it into the computer, and the genie grants the wish, but usually in some twisted way that is accompanied by a pixelated animation of the player's fate. The goal is to get through all 3 wishes alive. What made the game so popular was that no one had beat it yet. Whatever AI the game used was incredibly clever and strangely creative, and to make it even more difficult, the game only allowed you to play it once. Popular streamers, actually geniuses, and even philosophers hadn’t been able to beat the game, so Rich knew beating it would make him famous.

“Ok chat. I-it’s time for our first wish… And I’m taking suggestions…” Rich said. Rich wanted to beat the game, but… he wasn’t sure how to beat this game, so he’d take all the help he could get. A few suggestions actually came across the screen ‘BasedBro69: Wish for your muscles to grow!’

‘GenieGay33: No way, that's the way to open ended! The Genie will make him grow until he pops or something’

‘MissTaken27: That's such a basic idea. Might as well ask him to wish to be a frat boy or something.’

Rich laughed at this. He knew most of his followers' usernames by heart, but BasedBro69 was new. Still the conversation he had started was kind of funny, and he figured… why not? “Ok then, why not! Lets make me a frat boy!” He said, snickering as he typed in his computer. He tried to be as specific as possible to avoid the spell being twisted “‘I wish I was an attractive, stereotypical frat boy.”

Rich laughed as he watched the pixelated version of himself grow muscular, his clothing changing to a tank top and backwards cap. He watched as the other version of him rushed a frat. Rich was certain something would go wrong, afterall he knew from first hand experience that hazing could get fucking intense, but surprisingly his character survived and got through the first wish without any incident. Rich grinned widely. Most people never even made it through the first wish, but he, a relative nobody, had managed! He stood up straighter as he watched people start to flood into the stream. He checked the chat happily. ‘GenieMan33: He actually made it with that wish? I’ll never understand this game, but good for you!’ ‘MisterRichD27: Kind of an ironic wish considering you are a frat boy. No offense.’ ‘BasedBro69: I fucking knew that would work bro! You can do this!’

Rich blushed slightly at MisterRichD27’s comment, and his flirty name. While he didn’t tend to think of himself that way, he was technically a frat boy. He had joined one after heading to college in the hopes of finding some friends. His frat brothers could be… kind of obnoxious, and very stereotypical, but they had helped him come out of his shell somewhat and even get in shape. He was still fairly shy, but he never would have gotten this far in college or with his streaming if it wasn’t for them. He chuckled at the chat, slightly embarrassed “I’ll admit, that was a weird wish, but hey, it worked so who cares!” Rich said cheerily “Ok, so what's the next wish going to be? I’m trusting you on this chat!” Rich said with what he hoped was a charming wink. ‘GenieMan33: Maybe something basic like money? That doesn’t usually work but you seem to be on a hot streak.’

‘BasedBro69: No way bro. He only gets to play once. Wish for something like fucking confidence or something. Something fun!’

‘MisterRichD27: IDK, Basedbro69 was right last time. Maybe you should wish for confidence?’ Rich shrugged. He could think up even more ways that this could go wrong, but this game had never seemed to work on logic in any of the videos he watched to prepare for this. So with a grin, he typed in his second wish “I wish I had the kind of cocky confidence that ladies love.” he said with a chuckle. He hoped it would be obvious that it was a joke, since his Twitch username, FortnightOtter44, made it obvious he was gay. He watched as the little version of him grew a big head, quite literally. Rich was worried this was leading to some type of game over, but his head deflated, his muscles grew, and a bunch of pixelated girls in bikinis ran up to the pixelated him. Rich grinned wide and tried not to cuss in celebration, not wanting to get demonetized (again). He had fucking done it! He fucking got past wish 2! He smirked as he watched the chat explode as more people tuned in ‘GenieStud33: Fuck yeah! RDH fucking did it! Knew you had it in you bro!’

‘MissRichD27: RDH is the best gamer ever! And the hottest! DM me!’

BasedBro69: HELL YEAH! You can do this bro!’ Rich, known as RDH to his fans, or RichDaHunk on Twitch, smirked, as he saw the comments roll in. He fucking knew he could get this game. He may not have been the most popular streamer on twitch, but he was a fucking good gamer and a total stud. He flexed his biceps, getting the chat riled up again in a frenzy of lust and admiration. Rich didn’t bother to look at the chat this time. He gave a smarmy, cocky smirk at the camera “I know what to put in next bros. I’m gonna wish for something fucking inevitable.” he said cockily.

He quickly typed in “I wish I was the most popular gaming streamer on Twitch”, and watched with a practiced cool confidence as the pixelated version of him gained millions of followers. The chat exploded with awe and wonder as what Rich had always known was going to happen, happened. He had won the game. He flexed his muscles for the stream, celebrating with his 43 million followers. He didn’t understand why they were all shocked. He was the coolest, hottest, douchiest gamer on twitch. Of course he fucking won!

#muscle growth tf #muscle tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #streamer tf #nerd to jock #reality change #douchebag tf #bigwishes

229 notes · View notes