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theharrowing · 1 year

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What, now?

For as long as you and Jungkook have been friends, your feelings for him have been unrequited. Or have they?

☁ Jungkook x Female Reader ☁ word count: 13.6k ☁ friends to lovers, requited unrequited, pwp, fluff, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+ ☁ warnings: switch jungkook & switch reader, smoking weed, playful swatting and hitting (idk i'm an aries venus and i tend to playfully hit the people i love), tension and confessions, shot-gunning smoke, making out, light teasing and begging, anxiety, use of "baby" and "good girl/good boy", oral sex (f & m), fingering, a bit of squirting, dick piercingsssss, deepthroating, a hint of humiliation and cum play and spit, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, jungkook changes positions like he changes karaoke songs, booty eating and fingering, a bit of cockwarming, soft feelings. ☁ note: the time has come. i have written my first ever jungkook fic! i am very excited to be taking this important step, and i hope that you enjoy it. please blame/thank @jjkeverlast for putting this idea into my head and brainstorming with me! this contains literally the barest plot! ☁ beta read by @neoneunnajimin and @blog-name-idk 🥰 i love you both very much! ☁ posted march 2023 | read on ao3

"What, now?" Jeongguk asks, blinking heavily from staring at some fixed point on your comforter.

Frustrated, you sigh out a puff of smoke and set the joint onto a clear glass ashtray on your bedside table. Then you grab a pillow, gripping tightly to its soft, floral covering, and you chuck it at him.

"Oh, for the love of—" you complain as the pillow hits his shoulder, and he lets out a deep oof. "—you are impossible, Jeongguk!"

Jeongguk clutches his heart, feigning dramatically to be wounded, and leans back. Then, fear paints his face, and you realize he might actually be tipping over the edge of your bed as his arms flail out to the sides.

With an exasperated huff, you get onto your knees and lean forward, grabbing one of his flailing arms and yanking him to safety. As Jeongguk slouches toward you, your balance slips, and you crash headfirst into his knee, then roll onto your back in defeat as a throbbing ache blooms in the center of your forehead.

Jeongguk bends—brows knit with concern and wide, deep brown eyes accentuated by his browline glasses—staring straight into your soul. As he reaches to touch you, his dark brown curls fall forward, framing his beautiful face, causing you to panic-gasp and swat at his hand.

"Get away from me, you demon!"

"I'm sorry! Your bed is tall; I could have died!" he whines as you roll to safety by your headboard and scramble back into a seated position. You reach for the joint to take another deep inhale, letting the smoke settle before breathing it out, then you lean forward and hand it over.

"You go so far away when you're high," you grumble as you sit back, snatching another pillow to hug close.

"Sorry," Jeongguk mutters as he takes a slow, deep hit, hissing as he inhales and sighing on the exhale. "I get lost in my thoughts."

With a scoff, you roll your eyes.

"What were you thinking of, hmm?"

Jeongguk flits his gaze to you, which appears a bit sad, stirring something inside your tummy. For as long as you have known Jeongguk, he has been lighthearted and relaxed, finding levity in any situation. But lately, when you hang out, there is a heaviness—a tension, almost. Something hangs in the air—something he always seems on the edge of voicing but never does.

Jeongguk leans forward and hands you the joint, but rather than straightening out after you reach for it, he stays anchored on his palm, slouched in front of you. With a sigh, he cocks his head and says, "I don't know. What if I—" his eyes search around and past you, then return, "—what if you don't like what I've been thinking about?"

Ridiculous. The only thing Jeongguk could ever do to upset you is move to a new city or find some other way to pull the two of you apart. As long as your best friend is in your orbit, nothing can hurt you.

And, sure, the fact that you have a huge, overwhelming, insurmountable, absolutely dizzying fucking crush on him is frustrating—bordering infuriating, at times—but you suffer out of love. At least, that is what you tell yourself. You can yearn until the end of time as long as your best friend never leaves you.

Jeongguk clears his throat and settles back on his knees. You could swear his gaze falls past your eyes—lower, to your mouth—but he seems once again lost in thought, making him hard to read.

"I want to kiss you," he finally blurts out.

You choke on air, inhaling too sharply and coughing, squeezing your pillow tight. Jeongguk's shoulders slump forward, and he hangs his head and shakes it, letting out a soft, somewhat humorless laugh as he sits back up and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Forget it," he mutters.

Absolutely not.

"Jeon Jeongguk," you wheeze, gripping the corner of the pillow and swatting him with it, hitting his knees. He glances at you with a sad, somewhat distant expression, and your head fucking spins as you try to make sense of this situation.

"Is this just like...high talk?" you ask, suddenly feeling panicked that your very attractive best friend is talking about kissing you. "Like, I don't know, is the weed making you say silly shit?"

A frown tugs on Jeongguk's pretty lips.

"Silly shit? Wow, yeah, forget I said anything."

"That's not—" you feel guilty, sighing, "—Jeongguk—"

"No, no," he interrupts, waving a limp defeated hand. "Never mind."

You remember the joint in your grasp and take a useless puff, having to grab for the baby blue lighter sitting beside the ashtray and flick your thumb over the wheel a few times until a flame greets you. Gently, you inhale as fire engulfs the tip, bringing it back to life, and then, with a lungful, you pass it to your best friend, who gives a sad half-smile and says, "Thanks."

As you settle back against your headboard, clenching the lighter in your fist and hugging your pillow tight, your mind races. You struggle to grab onto any one thought long enough to really comprehend it; all you can seem to focus on is when? When could this feeling of his have started?

Jeongguk chuckles, but it lacks any mirth. And then he mutters, "Here, I thought I was being super obvious," causing your mouth to drop open.

"Okay, but...since when?"

"I've had feelings for you since the day we met," Jeongguk states, looking into your eyes, causing your stomach to do a backflip.

"Since wh—what? You what?"

Jeongguk opens his mouth to speak, but you wave your hands in the air, lighter wedged under your pinky and ring finger, to cut him off.

"No! Because, I have had feelings for you since the day we met! Which means—oh, god, what have we been doing?"

"I was a dork when we first met," Jeongguk grumbles, though he seems to have lightened up, smiling through his words.

Laughter quakes through you, and you nod your head cartoonishly, still absolutely dumbfounded by all of this.

"You were! You were smart, and funny, and kind, and even when your nose was still too big for your face, you were still the cutest dork I knew!"

The Jeongguk you met all those years ago, when he was tiny and shy, was already the love of your life. And as you aged and he began to bulk up, covering himself in tattoos and piercings, it only made your heart ache all the more.

Jeongguk's gaze falls, and a shy smile creeps across his face. He plays with the little metal ring in his lip, passing his teeth gently over it, then he looks back up, making firm eye contact.

With his voice dropping an octave lower, he asks, "You really have feelings for me?"

The shift in his tone and demeanor makes your heart pound, and you attempt to take a drag from the joint, realizing after two dazed inhales that it has gone out, once again. Sheepishly, you hold up the lighter and flick your thumb over the wheel once, then twice, watching as sparks fly and wondering if it is in any way symbolic or if that is the weed taking over your cloudy little brain and making you too hopeful for your own good.

With a deep inhale, you reignite the joint—hoping you have done a better job than last time—then you hold in the smoke and hand it back, feeling yourself become antsy under Jeongguk's intense gaze. He brushes his fingers against your knuckles as he slowly takes the dwindling offering and pulls it to his mouth, and you barely part your lips to let the smoke leave your lungs, watch intently as he sucks in and then smiles, licking his lips before slowly exhaling.

A chuckle breaks you from your trance, and you blink heavily while sitting up straight, gripping the life out of the pillow with your forearms. The weed, Jeongguk's confession, and his shift in mood all have you feeling lightheaded. You clear your throat and toss your lighter to the bedside table, which clatters on impact.

"Of course I do," you mutter, finally returning to the conversation that had hung as thick and heavy as the cloud of smoke between you. "Have you seen yourself, Jeongguk? Everybody has feelings for you."

Jeongguk smiles—still looks a bit shy, but with an air of confidence that makes your head spin. Although you know that there are no hallucinogenic properties to the weed you smoke—or, at least, very little—you struggle to grasp that this is reality.

"I don't care what everybody feels," he utters softly, leaning forward with his palms on the bed, joint sticking straight up between two fingers. "Just you."

Jeongguk crawls—fucking crawls—toward you, and you feel your brain begin to short-circuit. The air in the room is thick and warm, and you swallow a large lump in your throat. But it is his chuckle that really does you in—soft and light, and a little too deep for comfort, causing your heart to pound loudly in your ears and heavily in your chest.

"Tell me," Jeongguk utters, entering your personal space.

It takes you a few seconds to catch up to what he is saying; all you can focus on is his looming, beautiful presence.

"What, now?"

Jeongguk's head falls forward, and he laughs—shoulders gently bouncing. He shakes his head and looks back up at you, and god, he is devastating with his hair grown out in waves and his glasses slid down his nose. Absolutely breathtaking.

"Tell me how you feel," he urges softly, sitting up on his knees in front of you and lifting the joint to his lips.

Your eyes once again follow every movement, and all you can mutter is, "I feel...very high."

Jeongguk laughs again, puffing smoke into your face and making you grimace—not that you mind entirely; your brain is already so hazy, thanks, in part, to him. What harm will a little smoke do?

"How you feel about me," he says, leaning in just a little too close.

"Uh—I," you swallow, despite your throat feeling dreadfully dry. "I li—I like you. O-obviously."

The last word is barely a whisper, and you could swear Jeongguk's eyes sparkle when you say it. Every fight or flight instinct blares at full volume as Jeongguk leans and presses his palm into the headboard just beside your head. Tan, tattooed skin fills your periphery, and you turn slightly to glance at his arm beside you before returning your focus to him.

"Come here," Jeongguk says, lifting what is left of the joint to his lips and sucking in, then holding in the smoke as he pulls it away. He raises his eyebrows and gently grabs your arm to tug you forward, and you lean just enough for him to take your invitation and close the gap, pressing your lips together.

Your eyes widen, and your first instinct is to take a sharp inhale because, holy fuck, Jeongguk's mouth is against yours, and he feels so perfectly soft and inviting. Instead, you part your lips slowly, and as you do, Jeongguk exhales, passing the smoke from his mouth to yours in a dizzying exchange. You hold it in, then swallow it back, exhaling through your nose as Jeongguk smiles against you and begins to back up.

But you do not want Jeongguk to back up. You have felt his mouth on yours, and you need more than just a taste. Frantically, you reach up and grip onto his shirt, tugging him close.

With a soft, "Oing?" he falls forward, pliant.

Jeongguk smells musky and sweet, and you gently drag his lip between your teeth, tasting metal and smoke. With a sigh that sounds awfully close to a whimper, Jeongguk opens his mouth and drags his tongue over your lips and teeth, causing you to let out something between a moan and a sob, feeling Jeongguk smile as he deepens the kiss, willing your mouth further open.

There is a sweetness to Jeongguk's tongue hidden beneath the stinky taste of weed, and you lick into his mouth, chasing hints of him, gasping as he lets out faint noises. Despite all of this being very real—every sense filled with Jeongguk—you struggle to accept that this is actually happening. Finally, after all this time.

Jeongguk lifts his hand to touch you, grazing his fingertips over your cheek, and sending sparks through you. Then he pulls from the kiss, and swears under his breath, sighing with annoyance. You open your eyes to find him still cradling a dead joint between his fingers, which he drops onto the ashtray, only to begin wiping fallen ash off your comforter.

"Jeon," you grumble, despite hardly caring about the ash; you just like to give him a hard time.

"I'm sorry for my fault," Jeongguk mutters as he returns to your lips.

Your hand still clenches onto his shirt, and you chuckle into his kiss, keeping your face turned only enough to slot your noses side by side, slowly licking and sucking and savoring one another. Gradually, your brain and heart stop operating in panic mode, and you begin to notice the arousal that swirls through you—hot and eager for more.

To your dismay, Jeongguk breaks from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

"Is this alright?" he asks, and you open your eyes to find him appearing concerned.

"I like it," you respond, fuzzy and warm.

"You have no idea—well, actually you probably do have some idea how long I have wanted to do that."

You nod and hum, "Mmhmm."

"So..." Jeongguk trails off, playing with his lip ring between his teeth, sitting so close, everything appears blurred. "What, now?"

Your tummy does a backflip, and you cannot help but chuckle softly. What, now, indeed.

With a hum, you mutter, "We could keep kissing."

"We could..."

Jeongguk slots his lips against yours as he trails off, and you wonder if there is something more to his tone, so you hum—a question, or, perhaps, encouragement to continue.

Rather than elaborate, Jeongguk sucks your bottom lip gently between his teeth. Your mouth falls open as you gasp, and he deepens the kiss, wrapping an arm around your back while he cradles your cheek softly as you slide your hands to his neck, eager to keep him close. The back and forth of your tongues is an addicting dance, and you find yourself moaning and gasping a little louder, pulling him a little closer.

Jeongguk makes soft, inviting sounds of his own, and you fight the urge to claw at his clothing and beg him for more. You are certain that he must want it too—that this kiss must be affecting him the way it affects you—but you are unsure how to initiate more; what if this really is all he wants?

With a deep, needy groan, Jeongguk pulls from the kiss, and he appears timid when he sits back enough to look you in the eyes. Taking in the sight of him this close, with his pretty, dark curls framing his face—this close that you can count each mole and scar that graces his skin—you feel warmth rise to your cheeks. Jeongguk seems to be searching for something to say, then he drops his gaze.

"Hey," you mutter as you lean in and place a soft peck on the apple of his cheek. "Where did you go?"

Jeongguk softly laughs, tugging his lips into a smile.

"I just...I can't believe this is finally happening...I'm finally kissing you."

A smile creeps over your lips.

"Me too."

Jeongguk backs away further, and you stick your bottom lip out to pout. You are in the midst of a solid high, with everything feeling simultaneously too light and too heavy, and you want to keep making out with your super hot best friend.

"My legs are falling asleep," he complains as he crawls beside you and rotates, sitting against the headboard.

Beside you, his hand rests palm facing up, and you place your hand into his, slotting your fingers together. Holding Jeongguk's hand is nothing new, but now it feels different—now there is an electric current that buzzes lively between your palms.

"Way to ruin the vibe," you tease, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I was getting into it."

Jeongguk tugs on your hand, and you glance up, meeting his gaze.

"Come here, then."

And perhaps you should hesitate before swinging your leg over your best friend's thighs to straddle his lap. Perhaps this—whatever the fuck this is—that is happening between you deserves a conversation before it moves too much further. But you do not want to dwell on anything for too long. All you want to do is sink into this moment until you are too far below the surface to breathe, succumbing to the chaos and letting it swallow you whole.

You climb onto Jeongguk's lap, still holding onto his hand, and you settle down on his thighs, gently touching your fingertips to the underside of his chin and slotting his lips against yours. Jeongguk smiles and holds his mouth pliant for you to explore, then he wraps his arms around you, sliding one hand up to your neck as he deepens the kiss.

Making out with Jeongguk is a dream you never want to wake from. His scent is soft and welcoming and smells like home—hints of fresh cologne on top of the natural sweet musk that you have come to identify as him. And his voice is low and grumbly, with a pitchy lilt whenever you nip at his lip, and it stirs something deep inside you to pull more of those pretty sounds from his throat.

He feels incredible beneath you. Firm but soft, gentle but insistent in his touch—eager but not pushy or too rough. His lips are sweet, spit-slicked heaven, and the more you kiss and suck and nibble, the more enamored you become.

Jeongguk groans and mutters, "You feel so good," and it sparks something in you to lean into him, chest flush against his. He holds you tighter, gently squeezing the back of your neck, then he breaks from your lips to kiss your chin and trail down to your throat.

The new sensation sends arousal flooding through you, and you whimper as you somewhat mindlessly roll your hips. Jeongguk groans against your skin, his grip on you tightens, and if you are not mistaken, it feels like a tremble quakes through him.

“Easy, tiger,” Jeongguk warns as his hand squeezes the back of your neck.

You let out a playful, "Hmm?" before rolling yourself against him once more, and Jeongguk gasps as he slides his hands down to your hips, holding you firmly in place as he returns his mouth to yours.

"You're entering dangerous territory by doing that," he grumbles against you.

You draw lazy shapes with your tongues between each sentence, swallowing one another's words whole.

"Dangerous how?"

"You're grinding yourself against my dick," he whines through a helpless chuckle.

"I know."

You open your eyes to find his wide, and he grins, shaking his head in disbelief before his gaze darkens.

"You know, huh?"

Another hum—a deep, enticing, "Mmhmm"—as you attempt to roll your hips again, finding yourself stuck hovering over his crotch instead.

"Are you trying to get me hard?" he asks, tilting his head back so you can look at him fully.

Jeongguk already appears somewhat wrecked. With a hint of dew on his forehead, rosy-flush on his cheeks, and hair a little disheveled, he is so fucking pretty.

And maybe it is the weed talking—making you bold enough to say shit like this to your best friend in the whole entire world—but you ask, "And what if I am?" while holding brazen, unwavering eye contact.

Jeongguk stares at you for several quiet seconds with his pretty lips parted, eyes roving as if studying you. Then, in an eager motion, he whips his glasses off, tossing them to your bedside table in a clatter as he gently but firmly takes your face in both hands and kisses you like a man desperate to never breathe anything but the oxygen from your lungs.

You moan into Jeongguk's mouth and roll your hips, this time angling forward to graze denim against denim with purpose. Jeongguk whimpers into your mouth and slides one arm down, past your shoulder, to your hip, holding tight while he thrusts upward. You are unsure if you actually feel him—only really noticing rough fabric scrape over rough fabric—but the intensity of his kiss and eagerness of his hips have arousal coursing through you, steadily building.

"Are you sure?" Jeongguk groans into your lips, and you nod.

"I've wanted you for at least a million years; of course I am sure."

A soft chuckle flits from his mouth to yours.

"A million years? How many lives is that?"

Impatience courses through you—why is he so determined to be chatty now, of all times?

You grumble, "I don't know, Jeon, twelve or thirteen thousand, give or take?" and Jeongguk smiles against you.

“I guess I should hurry up and fuck you then, since you’ve waited so many lifetimes for it.”

The nonchalance of his statement sends a chill up your back. He must feel it, because he giggles and continues to suck and nip at your neck, pushing you to the brink of complete mental collapse.

"What is your problem?" you whine, lolling your head to the side to give him more access to you. "How can you just say that?"

"Do you not want me to fuck you?" Jeongguk asks between nips at your skin.

You shove at his chest, feeling petulant, grumbling, "I am going to fucking kill you."

With a chuckle, Jeongguk wraps his arms around your back, lifts you, and then lies you down against the mattress. It happens so fast, you gasp and throw your arms over your head as you fall gently against the soft comforter, and Jeongguk grins as he leans forward, hovering over you.

"Tell me what you want," he says with wide eyes—blown out and bloodshot.

"I w—I want you," you stammer, suddenly too shy to voice what has been on your mind for so many years.

Jeongguk leans close—so close his crotch grazes yours, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his thighs to keep him in place.

"Want me how?" he asks with a devilish grin.

"Fuck—" you mutter quietly before swallowing your nervousness, wrapping your arms around his neck, and saying, "Fuck me, Jeongguk."

Jeongguk's smile widens, and you could swear his eyes shimmer as he gazes down at you. He almost seems taken aback—unable to process that this is his reality. Not that you can blame him; you feel equally stunned.

"You sure?" he asks, gazing becoming so soft, affection blooms behind your ribs.

Feeling impatient, you smack Jeongguk softly on the shoulder with your fingertips. You are way too high to be repeating yourself, although you do appreciate his insistence on making sure you are comfortable.

But the pace at which he is dragging everything out has you practically begging, "Yes, god, please, Jeongguk."

The benefit of initiating a sexual encounter with your best friend in the entire world is that you are both aware of one another's health checks and sexual histories. You have bragged and complained to one another about every single sexual encounter over the years, and have sent selfies from every doctor's office visit.

But Jeongguk is Jeongguk, so, of course, he asks, "Still on the pill?" and he does not question it when you nod in response.

Jeongguk reaches for the back of his shirt and swiftly pulls it over his head. As he tosses it to the side, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. You have seen Jeongguk shirtless before—have swam with him countless times, and have gone along to all of his tattoo appointments. But watching him undress with the intent of being intimate with you feels different. Having front-row access to gawk openly at his beautifully sculpted muscles is new.

Gently, Jeongguk grabs at the hem of your shirt and tugs, and you comply, pulling it over your head with a weak lift of your torso before crashing back onto the comforter once it is off. You lay in a sheer, mesh black bra, and when you begin to anchor yourself onto your elbows to unclip the back, Jeongguk shakes his head, leaning forward as he mutters, "I like it. Keep it on."

Another benefit to initiating a sexual encounter with your best friend in the entire world is that you have shared some details about what you are into with one another, over the years. Nothing too graphic because you would always shy away from serious sexual conversation, worrying about becoming too obviously flustered by him. But you know that Jeongguk tends to like things to have a bit of a power-play dynamic. He has, on several occasions, bragged openly about his sexual prowess to male mutual friends while in your presence, discussing past partners in terms of submissiveness.

So, for that reason, you stretch your hands up, over your head. Nothing too wild, but a clear sign of surrender. Jeongguk follows the movement with his eyes, then slides down your body, hovering his lips over one of your clothed breasts.

"Keep your hands above your head," he sighs in command, ghosting warmth over your skin and giving you goosebumps.

You let out a shaky exhale in response and nod, placing one of your hands into the other and slightly gripping, determined to be good for him. Jeongguk nudges the tip of his nose against a nipple, causing you to gasp as the touch—faint as it is—sends a spark of arousal through you.

"I always knew your tits would be amazing," Jeongguk grumbles, dragging his lips over your sensitive bud.

If you were not trying to keep your hands firmly in place, you would have delivered another smack to his shoulder for being so unserious. You even gasp and begin to complain about Jeongguk's choice of words, but he flicks his tongue against your clothed nipple, and you sigh into the feeling, already distracted.

Jeongguk chuckles and mutters, "I'm surprised you didn't try to hit me," with his lips grazing the mesh over your skin, because of course he knows you too well.

You let out a soft laugh of your own.

"I wanted to, but you told me to keep my hands above my head."

"So good for me," Jeongguk responds deeply, sending a shiver through you. "I'm a little surprised."

"Hmm?" you ask, watching as Jeongguk glances up, making eye contact.

He smiles wide and shrugs, saying, "I expected you to be more of a brat."

The urge to smack strengthens, but you do your best to keep your hands firmly in place. Jeongguk is definitely not incorrect that you tend to be more of a brat in bed, but you were hoping to behave at least a little since this is something you have wanted for so long.

"Keep talking shit and I'll show you a brat," you respond as you watch Jeongguk gaze up once more with a dark, pointed stare.

"Is that so?" he asks as he crawls up your body, caging your head between his hands.

You tilt your chin upward and nod, giving him a cheeky grin.

"It is."

Jeongguk reaches down with one hand between your legs, which you let fall open the moment his knuckles brush against your thigh. With his fingertips, he grazes over the denim crotch of your pants, following the seam up to your zipper. It is so light you can barely feel it as he passes over your heat, but it is enough to make you whimper and plead with your eyes for more.

"I thought you wanted me to fuck you?" Jeongguk asks playfully as his head cocks to the side and pretty, dark waves fall past his face.

"I do."

"Hmm, but you're already misbehaving. So maybe I should just tease you a little and leave."

For a split second, you lift your hands from the bed with the intent of wrapping your arms around his neck, earning a raise of Jeongguk's eyebrows. Then you drop them back onto the comforter and squeeze your hands closed.

"Please, Jeongguk," you attempt, batting your eyelashes and smiling oh, so sweetly.

Jeongguk studies you, letting his wide eyes fall to your lips and back up, then he says, "I guess I could make you beg for it."

"You are so evil," you whine, voice breathy as Jeongguk leans down and nips at your chin, down your neck. "Please don't make me beg."

"Hmm, but you already are," Jeongguk teases as his lips, teeth, and tongue travel lower.

God, Jeongguk is as insufferable as he is irresistible, and you allow your eyes to flutter closed as his lips curve toward your breast, pinching and tugging at fabric, touching you so softly, you want to burst. His warm, moist breath fans over your skin, causing you to open your eyes, and you sigh heavily, watching as your chest rises and falls beneath his teasing.

You have fantasized about this moment many times before, imagining the heated way in which Jeongguk might take you—a little forcefully maybe, or even a bit clumsy—desperate, and eager in his movements. You have even allowed yourself to imagine overtaking him—holding him down until he is pliant and whimpering while you tease, grazing your fingertips against his prostate until he screams, using your toys while you ride him.

But this—slow and measured, light in touch and heavy in implication—never in a million years had anything quite like this crossed your mind.

Jeongguk flicks his tongue against your nipple, grazing the semi-rough mesh across the sensitive skin. A gasp puffs between your lips, then you let out a soft, enticing whimper, hoping for the sound to encourage him to do more than taunt you.

"Fuck, you sound so good," Jeongguk groans, lapping his tongue over you, wetting the material.

Satisfied with your successful encouragement, you let out a louder sound, trembling under his firm touch. Fighting the urge to reach for his hair and give it a light tug, or bunch it behind his head so you can better see his face, has you opening and clenching your fists uselessly above your head.

Jeongguk moves lower, nipping at the underside of your breast and making you whine. The pinching feeling of soft skin between blunt teeth barely hurts at all—hardly feels like much of anything—but it takes you by surprise, and you are jumpy enough for every little sensation to be just a bit too much.

As he settles between your legs, Jeongguk's butt hits the headboard of your bed with a thunk, causing him to laugh, which, in turn, makes you laugh.

"Scoot up," Jeongguk complains, and you begin to wiggle yourself toward the end of the bed, careful to keep your hands in place, over your head, committing fully to the good girl bit.

At the foot of your bed is a bench that sits several inches lower than the mattress, and you continue to scoot until your hands slide over the edge and rest on its cushioned top. You straighten out your legs, and Jeongguk settles onto his knees between them, then reaches to undo your jeans.

The realization hits you once more, and quite suddenly, that this is really happening. Your best friend—Jeon Jeongguk, babe extraordinaire and light of your absolute fucking life—is undressing you in broad daylight with the intent to see and to feel you.

A small wave of anxiety washes over you, and you close your eyes as he begins to wiggle your pants past your hips and yank them lower. The underwear you have on beneath is not terribly exciting—plain black, soft material, nothing too fancy. But they are cute, and you bite your lip as you smile, hoping he finds them cute, too.

A chuckle pulls you from your thoughts, and you crack open your eyes to find Jeongguk frozen with your jeans tugged half way past your thighs, while he is staring at your face.

"Why do you look so worried?"

With a sigh, you groan, "Stop always being so intuitive."

Jeongguk's smile drops, and he lets go of your pants.

"Is something wrong?"

He is too kind for his own good. Because, of course, he is; you are not head over heels for him without good reason.

"No," you insist, shaking your head. Above your head, you fiddle with some unknown, thin material between your fingers. "I'm just, you know...it's a lot, letting your best friend see you naked. I definitely want you to! But it still makes me nervous."

"Oh," Jeongguk says, sitting up on his knees while he begins to unbuckle his belt and yank it from its loops. "I don't think it's a lot."

"Well, of course you don't," you respond through a bit of a nervous grin as Jeongguk sets his black leather belt aside and undoes his pants. You mutter a little more softly, "You're fucking hot."

Jeongguk shrugs and pushes his jeans down past his thighs, then sits back on his butt and begins to wiggle out of them with his legs angled to the side, past your body.

"You are also fucking hot," he responds matter-of-factly.

You scoff.

"Yeah, but, compared to you—"

Before you can finish your sentence, you feel ridiculous for even beginning it, and you bite your tongue. With the way Jeongguk frowns at you as he tosses his pants aside, the point is driven home.

"Don't—" he begins, and you nod.

"I know."

"Then why—"

You feel impatient to continue what had been previously started, but you cannot deny Jeongguk's softness is very touching. You extend your right leg out, feeling the denim awkwardly stretch around your thighs where Jeongguk left it, and use your foot to attempt to pull him close.

"I get self-conscious," you admit, smiling as Jeongguk gets back on his knees and crawls between your legs. "I can be a hot bitch and feel shy, okay? I contain multitudes. Now keep undressing me."

The familiar playful, shit-eating grin that tugs at Jeongguk's lips makes your heart pound, and he leans forward, continuing his task of tugging off your pants. You twist and squeeze bits of fabric between your fingers while he leans back against the headboard and lifts your legs straight into the air, and once the denim is pulled free from around your ankles, you let your legs settle with a nice, deep, fortifying breath.

Jeongguk stops your right leg from lowering and rests your ankle on his shoulder. He kisses and nips at the skin, tickling and taunting, with his eyes on you.

"Still nervous?" he asks.

And although your heart beats wildly behind your ribcage, you let out a shaky breath and mutter, "Only a little."

Jeongguk leans forward more, giving your leg a nice little stretch as it presses toward your body. His lips and teeth trail along the side of your knee, sending sparks shooting through you as he nibbles at the sensitive skin and inches closer.

You have hardly had a chance to comprehend the fact that Jeongguk is practically naked, sitting only in his tight, small briefs, and you let your gaze drink in everything before you. His body is muscular, with cute rolls of skin bunched as he slouches forward, slowly working his way to settle between your legs, and you cannot take your eyes off him.

And you wonder if perhaps he was so eager to get undressed when you said it made you nervous to be getting naked in front of your best friend as a way to ease your mind. Because that is the thing about Jeongguk, he is always looking for little ways to make you feel comfortable.

"Where did you go?" Jeongguk asks.

You blink and realize you have been staring at the top of his curly mop of hair while his mouth comes dangerously close to your pussy, and suddenly, you feel an overwhelming surge of arousal and anticipation on top of still being pretty fucking high.

"S-sorry," you mutter. "Drifted off thinking about you."

"But I'm right here," he pouts, giving you big, pretty doe eyes.

"You are," you respond through a heavy breath, acutely aware of the fact that he is right here, hovering between your thighs.

"Keep your eyes on me," Jeongguk commands softly. "Don't space out."

A hint of a chuckle rocks through you, though it is more of a nervous laugh than a humorous one. Despite hardly doing anything, he has you so worked up, and the fact that the high is causing the arousal to ebb and flow, dulling and becoming intense, has you feeling quite flustered.

Jeongguk lets out a deep, slow breath, wafting warmth between your legs. A small shiver works through you from the knowledge that he is so close; the number of years you have wanted him just like this are many, and the affection you feel for him is insurmountable. You hold eye contact as best as you can while Jeongguk sucks hard against your thigh, and the spark of ticklish pleasure-pain forces a huff of a small whimper to fall from your mouth while you do your best not to jerk your leg too much.

"Such a tease," you complain.

"You know what I want you to do, baby," Jeongguk responds, bringing the world to a screeching halt.

Baby. Oh, that definitely has a bigger effect on you than it should. This is bad for you.

"Please," you whine, because you do know what he wants you to do. He wants you to beg. "Please, Jeongguk."

"Please, what, baby?"

Your exhale is shattered around the edges, bursting heavily from your lungs.

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you."

"Jeongguk," you whimper in a last-ditch effort. Is he really going to make you say it?

Jeongguk simply raises his eyebrows. Of course he is going to make you say it. He is absolutely reveling in this moment—with sharp, intent eyes and his lips slightly parted, it is written all over his face.

Fuck it; you can do this. You can tell the person you love more than anything in the world precisely what you want. You will not die of embarrassment.

"Please touch my pussy, Jeongguk."

And god, it is so worth it to say those words when the result is Jeongguk's gaze simultaneously darkening and melting. He is holding it together rather well, but there are cracks in his foundation; you can tell that he wants to absolutely destroy you.

"That's my good girl," Jeongguk groans as he leans forward and nudges the tip of his nose over your clothed clit.

The pressure against you, mixed with his enticing words, playful voice, and all of the heavy, aching feelings you have—everything culminates and sends a wave of pleasure through you, melting you into the bed like hot wax. You squeeze your hands tightly, letting out a shattered whimper and angling your pelvis upward for more friction.

Jeongguk drags the tip of his nose and his lips over you, teasing your labia and clit through soft cotton. The movements are so faint and so agonizingly slow, and you fight the urge to be a brat and demand more. You also try your best not to beg. Yes, Jeongguk wants you to, but why should he get the satisfaction of knowing just how affected you are, so soon? Someone as competitive and confident as Jeongguk would only use it against you if you became a mess this easily.

But you are a mess. Jeongguk settles between your legs and blows warm air across your clothed cunt, and you sink further into bliss, letting out more sounds of approval and frustration. With a sigh, you cave in—you never truly had a passing chance at holding any sort of resolve.

"Please."

Jeongguk uses his nose to tease once more.

"Hmm?"

"Jeongguk," you groan.

"You smell nice," he mutters, wafting more warm air over you with a soft graze of his lips. "I bet you taste really sweet."

"Find out," you whine.

Jeongguk sits up, grabs your panties in both hands, and cocks an eyebrow with a devious smile as he has the audacity to ask, "Can I rip these?"

"Wh—no! These are my coziest pair!"

Sure, you could buy a whole pack of them at a bargain price, but this particular pair is the best of the best. Jeongguk must have lost his mind.

"But it would be fun," he whines, making you roll your eyes.

"Pull them over my hips like a civilized man."

Jeongguk grumbles, "No fun," and begins to tug the material over your hips. You lift and bend your legs, and he sits back, bumping into the headboard once more to give you room. Then he flings the garment off to the side and leans forward.

The look in Jeongguk's eye as your legs slowly drop and spread for him has warmth covering your chest, sneaking up your neck and cheeks. He looks intent and hungry, and he licks his lips.

"Look at you," he says, staring directly at your cunt as he settles on his elbows and gently uses his fingertips to spread your lips, making you squirm.

"You're so weird," you complain, antsy under his gaze.

Jeongguk ignores your groans and leans close, dragging his lips over your spread folds. With a soft flick of the tongue, he tastes you—sending a wave of pleasure coursing to your fingers and toes—then he closes his eyes and groans.

"Shit, you are sweet."

You wish more than anything that Jeongguk would stop talking. One more word of praise from his mouth, and you might actually go supernova and take the entire solar system with you. Luckily, Jeongguk seems eager to use his tongue for better tasks as he dives in for more, swirling and sucking over your clit in a pattern that makes you grip onto the edge of the mattress and let out a deep, pleased moan.

"Feels good," you whimper as arousal builds at a nearly embarrassing pace.

Everything about this situation is too much, and you let a shudder rock through you as your legs relax, spread further while your heels slide and dig across the blanket. Jeongguk also drops further and wraps his arms under your thighs, gripping your hips tightly.

Being held in place and devoured by Jeongguk feels too good to be true, and you tilt your head up to have a look at the mess of wavy dark brown hair between your thighs. Jeongguk groans as he licks and sucks, with brows knit ever so slightly, the way he does when he is savoring his food. The mere thought of Jeongguk savoring you sends you hurtling to new heights of bliss, and you squeeze your hands closed, gripping tightly to your wrist while the other hand holds onto the soft comforter.

Jeongguk glances up, meeting your eyes as he slowly licks a firm, slow stripe across your clit, causing your head to fall back into the bed with a moan that borders pornographic. You might be mortified by the sounds—by how quickly and easily Jeongguk has you unraveling for him—but the feeling is too good not to respond loudly in praise.

You climb close to orgasm—but not quite close enough. Your high still holds you in its clutches, and despite everything feeling intense and incredible, it is also a bit dull and hazed over.

"Ggukie," you whimper, smiling as Jeongguk growls in response. "Finger me, please."

One of Jeongguk's hands slides away from your hip, and you take in a deep, eager inhale. His fingertip teases your entrance, and when you glance between your legs, you find him slowly spinning his tongue over your sensitive bud while watching you with a smile.

"This what you want, baby?" Jeongguk asks as he presses forward, sliding his finger easily into your slick warmth.

"Fuck," you gasp.

It is what you want, albeit not yet quite enough. Still, the way he crooks his finger upward and drags it across your sweet spot has you clawing at the blanket beneath you—has your back arching slightly off the mattress.

Jeongguk pumps his finger in and out fast enough to have your hips trembling, and when he adds another, stretching you just enough to cause a hint of pain, your mouth falls open into a desperate moan. This is what you need.

"Yes," you whimper as Jeongguk's lips and tongue return to their eager ministrations and his fingers set a dizzying pace. "That's it, Ggukie; don't stop!"

With pleased groans, Jeongguk pulls you to the edge of mental collapse, and it takes absolutely no time at all to plummet into bliss. As you cum, your entire body quakes, and you attempt to keep your thighs from clamping shut, pushing your head into the mattress as your back lifts and your heels drag.

Jeongguk does not slow. The sensation borders overwhelming and too much, but you do your best to hold on and ride out this new type of high. At this pace, with the focused, steady rhythm of licking and sucking on your clit, you know that it will take no time at all to cum again, and you want it so badly.

Luckily, Jeongguk is on the same page.

"Once more, baby," he groans against you, and you squeeze your eyes closed as the high builds at breakneck speeds, never fully coming down from your first orgasm.

Rather than pressing in and out, Jeongguk changes his motion and thrusts his fingertips up into your erogenous zone. The sensation is engulfing—threatening to eat you alive—and you practically scream as the pressure sends you shooting into a new dimension of bliss.

"Fuck," you sob between moans, feeling as if you might absolutely burst. "Fuck, fuck, oh god."

This time, as you cum, you can hear Jeongguk's fingers squelch—loud and wet—punctuating each upward thrust as you sob and tremble against the bed.

"That's it, baby, coat my fingers," Jeongguk praises, leaving featherlight kisses against your clit and labia as he continues to finger you.

"What the fuck," you pant, feeling dizzy and overstimulated. Your body is covered in a sheen of sweat and goosebumps, cold yet burning hot, and you struggle to reconcile all the myriad feelings.

"Didn't know you could do that?" Jeongguk asks, still fingering you to oblivion as his lips, teeth, and tongue move to your inner thigh—tickling and making you squirm.

"Do what?"

"You soaked me. Can't you feel it? It was like...a baby squirt."

"A baby squirt?" you pant in disbelief.

Jeongguk takes a firm bite into your thigh, making you nearly kick him in the ribs, then he chuckles as his lips return to hover over your pussy.

"What's the matter, baby squirt?"

Petulance rises—nearly overtakes the steady flood of pleasure—and you open your mouth to warn Jeongguk to never call you that again, but all you can manage to say is, "Don't you fucking da—ahhhh—" as his tongue laps over you as hungrily as before.

You have no idea where one high ends and the next begins, and you fight the urge to grab him by the hair and pull him away, feeling so completely swallowed whole by overstimulation that you nearly scream. How the fuck is he capable of making you feel this way, this easily?

"It's too much," you whimper, heaving each breath from your lungs as you tremble from head to toe.

"You sure you can't cum once more for me?" Jeongguk whines, gazing at you with wide, pretty eyes.

You want to say yes—want to give him absolutely anything in this world that he may wish for—but you are far too sensitive, and you bite your bottom lip as you sheepishly shake your head no.

"Awe, does baby squirt need a break?"

Despite being too fucked out to fight with your best friend who just made you cum at least twice—though you are unsure what you were experiencing toward the end—you sit up and land an open-palmed smack across his chest. Jeongguk grabs you by the wrist and yanks, falling back against your headboard with a wide, satisfied smile and sparkling eyes, and you allow yourself to be pulled onto your knees before toppling forward against his warm body, straddling his thighs.

"Don't call me that," you pout, feeling your own release drip from you, proving the nickname to be truer than you would like to admit.

"It's fucking hot that I can make you so wet," Jeongguk groans as his hands find your jaw and gently pull you into a kiss.

Is this what the two of you are, now? Best friends who kiss? Unabashedly and without preamble or explanation? You love being able to nibble on his bottom lip and fondle his metal jewelry between your teeth, pulling out all the sweet little sounds that you never imagined would come from him. Never like this.

"It felt good," you groan when Jeongguk's lips move to your jaw and neck. "It felt really fucking good."

"Yeah?" Jeongguk responds, sucking his lips against your neck until you attempt to wiggle out of his grasp.

Jeongguk pulls you close and kisses lower, to your shoulder. This time, when he latches on, finding a far less sensitive spot, you allow it.

"Yeah," you respond as your eyes lose focus on the brown wood of the headboard. "Fuck, I knew you'd be good, but that was..."

Your words die in your throat as Jeongguk's hands grab you by the ass and pull you onto his lap. Beneath you, a very firm erection sits nestled between your thighs, and you roll your hips downward to tease. Despite the way Jeongguk made you feel with his mouth and fingers, you are far from satiated. The moment you get your bearings, you need more.

The whimper Jeongguk lets out makes you groan, and you take him by the face and pull him into a deep, needy kiss, detecting your own heady release on his tongue. Jeongguk relaxes, loosening his grip and holding his mouth agape for you to taste as you please.

"I need to fuck you," he whines against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Is that so?" you respond before sucking his lip between your teeth, tasting a hint of metal.

"Been wanting you for so fucking long. You have no idea."

You smile as you say, "I'm the one who waited thousands of lifetimes, remember?"

Jeongguk squeezes your ass with both hands while rutting his hips up enough to tempt you with his erection.

"Lay back down," he groans, and you shake your head, reveling in how quickly his pretty lips tug into a frown.

"Not so fast," you purr as you begin to slide back, out of Jeongguk's eager grasp, leaving wet, lazy kisses on his jaw, neck, and clavicle. "It's my turn to taste you."

Jeongguk's hands fall to his sides, and as you begin to wedge your knees between his, he spreads his legs, giving you space to settle. Your lips skim over his nipple, pulling sweet gasps and sighs from his mouth, and the lower you kiss, past his abdomen, to one of his hips, his breath comes out in harsh gusts.

Just knowing that you affect him like this makes you all the more eager to completely unravel him, and you waste no more time, slipping your fingertips beneath the waistband of his briefs while fanning warm breath over his clothed cock. You tug the material gently down and drag your lips over him, teasing him just a little as he had teased you before. And when your lips touch something small and hard, you freeze and lift your head.

"Jeongguk..." you begin, surveying his bulge, which has many small, hard, circular bulges along its length. "...what is this?"

"I never told you about those?" Jeongguk asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

In all your years of friendship, you were positive that Jeongguk—your Jeon Jeongguk—has never kept anything from you. And yet, here you are, staring straight at a very big secret. When the fuck did your best friend get his dick pierced?

"N-no," you stammer as you pull the band of Jeongguk's briefs down, exposing quite the surprise, indeed.

Not only does Jeongguk have an impressive cock—long and thick with precum beading at its pretty, reddened-brown tip—but you gently pull back his foreskin to reveal a row of four barbells along his shaft, as evidenced by the eight little metal balls that hold them in place.

"Wh—when did you—"

"Surprised?"

A scoff rocks through your chest, and you look up at your best friend. The bewilderment must be evident, and he chuckles as he gently rubs his knuckles over your cheek.

"Felt like a weird thing to tell you when I did it," he confesses with a soft smile.

You feel affronted, and your mouth falls open.

"Why?"

Jeongguk shrugs.

"I was dating someone at the time, so bringing up my dick felt...weird. Especially since I got these because you..."

As Jeongguk trails off, his cheeks flush, and you watch as his life flashes before his eyes.

"Because what? I what?" you ask, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks, certain that you know where this is going.

You are into this sort of thing. Jeongguk had to listen to you drunkenly rant far too many times about the ex who did you wrong but had a dick piercing that was hard to part ways with. The thought of Jeongguk taking that information and getting his own piercings...and multiple, at that...that does things to you.

"Jeon Jeongguk," you groan with a smile, focusing your attention back to his very hard, pierced cock, which rests neglected and leaking against his tummy. "You are full of surprises."

Before Jeongguk can respond, you lean in close and lick a firm path from the band of his briefs, along his shaft, teasing the jewelry with your tongue before lapping at the precum that has spilled over onto his tip. Jeongguk lets out the softest, neediest moan, causing you to involuntarily clench every muscle between your legs.

"Damn, Ggukie, you sound so pretty," you praise before sucking the head of his cock between your lips, feeling the muscles of his thighs tense beneath you.

Just a taste of his salty release on your tongue spurs you to take him as far into your mouth as you can, and you lay your tongue flat, snaking it side to side when you finally settle with his tip buried close to your throat, nearly cutting off your oxygen. Jeongguk moans and trembles as you drag your tongue over velvety skin and metal. Absolute perfection.

You waste no time and set a steady pace, sucking your cheeks in once he is deep in your mouth, and swirling your tongue along his shaft as you pull out. Jeongguk moans incoherently, letting consonants and vowels fall at random as he grips gently to the side of your head, clearly doing his best not to rut his hips too hard or touch you too firmly.

And perhaps now, with your best friend's cock between your lips, is a strange time to think about how fun it is to learn this side of Jeongguk and wonder just what the dynamics between you two could be—what whatever this fuck this is could blossom into. But the idea that the two of you have crossed this line, and that he is so good at making you cum, has affection bursting and blooming behind your ribs, and arousal pooling deep in your guts. You are also still pretty fucking high, which is no wonder that your mind keeps wandering.

Realization hits—your gag reflex is dulled when you smoke—and you open your mouth just a little bit wider and take Jeongguk's thick, pierced length a little bit deeper. This time, Jeongguk's grip ends up tugging some of your hair, which only spurs you to keep his cock firmly in your throat, pressed deep until you have no choice but to come up for air.

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, "baby this is—"

Needing to breathe, you concede to lifting your head, holding your tongue out flat as thick strings of drool connect your lips to his tip.

"Huh?" you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes, watching as the last remaining thread of Jeongguk's sanity slips away.

"Can I fuck your mouth?" he asks, kiss-swollen lips agape and eyes eager-wide.

"Sure," you reply with a shrug as if it is nothing, holding your mouth open as Jeongguk settles high onto his knees and positions himself. "Just don't hold my head too tight...in case I need to breathe."

Frantically, Jeongguk nods as he slides his hand to the back of your head, pulling you close. "Of course, yeah," he mutters, already adorably fucked out and blushing before he has had a chance to cum.

You rest your palms flat on the bed, back arched and breasts spilling from the small mesh bralette as one strap slides past your shoulder. Jeongguk places a hand under your chin and cups your cheek with the other—almost comically gentle considering he plans to fuck your mouth.

With your tongue hung flat and wide, pooling drool at the tip, you stare up through your eyelashes. Jeongguk has a look on his face that screams affection—warm and wanting. Desire drips from your pores as saliva dribbles to your chin, and when Jeongguk lifts his thick, heavy cock to set gently on your tongue, your fingertips dig into the comforter beside your knees.

"You look amazing," Jeongguk groans as he slowly thrusts forward, pressing in, in, in, dragging metal over your tongue. His jaw trembles as the tip slides into your throat, and you swallow around him, pleased with the lack of gag reflex, if only for the sweet satisfaction of watching him crumble above you. "Shit, baby, you look so fucking good."

Jeongguk holds himself in place and stares down at you with a reverence that makes warmth flood to your cheeks. He pulls back slowly, groaning as his eyes intently watch the movement, then thrusts forward a little harder, gasping as his cock tickles the soft skin in the back of your throat, and whimpering when you swallow around him.

"Tap me or something if you need me to stop," he mutters, already sounding completely lost.

You attempt to nod and flutter your eyelashes, which are already beginning to bead with tiny tears. Jeongguk curses under his breath, pulls out, then thrusts back in. His piercings are surprisingly pleasant as they slide—big enough to be noticeable but not enough to snag, though you keep your bottom teeth guarded, just in case.

The hold on your face and chin become firmer but never rough, and Jeongguk works up to a steady pace, always pushing just far enough to pull lewd sounds from your throat—coating himself in thick saliva—but never so far that it causes discomfort.

Watching Jeongguk's abs flex and bead with sweat as he ruts and swears and gasps causes arousal to pool between your legs and flood your system. You want him to pin you down and fuck this delicious, pierced cock into your cunt until you are cross-eyed and speaking in tongues.

Thankfully, his composure already seems to be crumbling. The grips of his fingertips are alternating too firm and slipping away, and his hips are losing their rhythm. To help him along, you attempt to tighten your throat, and you moan with each thrust, sending your praises vibrating over him.

Jeongguk's head lolls back and to the side, then he fixes you with a desperate stare. Panting and sweating, with reddened cheeks and a crazed look in his eyes, he gives a frantic, affirming nod and groans, "So fucking close, baby. Can I cum in your mouth?"

You attempt to nod and mutter something that somewhat resembles, "Uh-huh," and Jeongguk's lips break into a pretty smile as he tightens his hold on you and ruts his hips forward a little harder.

"Fuck," Jeongguk moans, dropping his head back. His voice sounds like heaven, and you moan in response, eager to hear more.

Although his movements are too rushed, too out of rhythm, and even slightly too rough, you hold your mouth open and stare up, attempting to let oxygen through your nose while your fingertips dig into the comforter.

Jeongguk moans as his length twitches and pulsates in your mouth, whimpering your name like a prayer and pulling out just enough to cover your tongue in his release and lend you some airflow. And for the first time, you nearly gag. The first spurt of the viscous fluid hits the back of your throat and trickles thickly down, and you fight the urge to cough, doing your best to swallow around it. When he finally pulls out and sits back, you breathe in through your nose but hold your tongue flat to show him the mess he has made, all for you.

"Fuck, you are perfect," Jeongguk groans while placing two fingers against your cum-covered tongue.

Jeongguk gazing at you as if you are a treasure to behold with tear-streaked cheeks and a drool-covered chin, juxtaposed with his fingers playing with the mess on your tongue, sends a flurry of emotions through you. And despite how soft he is with you, this entire scene feels somewhat humiliating. The grin breaking on Jeongguk's face suggests that he knows what you may be thinking, confirmed by him pulling your jaw open just a little wider and spitting into your mouth.

A gasp works its way through your chest, and you stare at your best friend with wide eyes. He has the temerity to chuckle.

"Swallow my load like a good girl," he coos sweetly as he removes his fingers from your mouth and sucks them between his own lips.

This entire scenario is so debauched it makes you feel dizzy, and you close your mouth and swallow the mess on your tongue, feeling trapped somewhat in slow-motion.

As your high begins to dissipate enough to lift what fog had been draped heavily over your mind, you feel a new sense of eagerness take its place. The attitude of, I need to have him in any way I can is slowly melting into something akin to, I need to make him a whimpering mess of a man.

"Sit back," you command, getting high on your knees and reaching to gently shove Jeongguk toward the headboard.

He chuckles and fumbles onto his butt, then slowly inches back until he has nowhere left to go. You crawl forward, straddling his legs with your hands and knees, one breast hanging from the mesh bra, then settle onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and slotting fingers into his pretty, wavy hair.

"I'm not hard yet, baby," Jeongguk whines, as if you couldn't tell.

With a devious smile, you lift your hips until his soft cock is situated just below your pussy, and you slowly rub yourself over his pierced length.

"I know," you groan, nipping at his bottom lip. "I'll make you hard."

Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, then pulls you close—splayed hands gripping at your back, desperate, as if you might disappear.

"I got you, Ggukie," you mutter against his lips, warm breath hitting your smile in a soft sigh, "I'm right here."

Kissing Jeongguk with remnants of his and your cum on your tongues feels like savoring the aftermath of a hurricane. And with storm clouds looming overhead, threatening to flood you completely, you can only accept your fate and gladly welcome what is to come; the two of you are far from finished with one another.

Slowly, Jeongguk becomes erect beneath you, and you make your soft, gentle movements a bit more measured and forceful. Jeongguk whimpers into your mouth, tangles his tongue against yours much more eagerly than before, and you swallow each little sound whole, licking and sucking against his tongue and lips until he is dropping his head back, out of breath.

"I can't wait to fuck you," Jeongguk groans as you trail your lips to his neck and suck faint, dark marks into his skin.

"Not until I get to fuck you first," you respond—a promise and a threat.

Jeongguk groans as he asks, "Oh, yeah?" and you chuckle as you say, "Yes."

"Alright," Jeongguk concedes, gently rubbing his hands down your sides before his touch disappears entirely. "I'm all yours, baby."

Curiously, you trail your palms down the length of his arms, finding them both wedged behind his back. With a grin, you rock your hips against him a little harder, feeling his cock part your pussy lips and cover itself in your wetness.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you fuck me however you want."

All Jeongguk can say in response is a deep, needy groan. You roll your hips back slowly, dragging yourself over his hardening length, then reach with one hand between your legs while anchoring with the other on his shoulder. Jeongguk shudders as you gently grip the head of his cock and angle him upwards enough to find your entrance.

Although you have done absolutely nothing, each breath heaves from your lungs, and you hover a moment gazing at Jeongguk—sweat-slicked and blush-pink, staring back at you so sweetly.

"Ready?" you ask in a hushed tone, feeling your dominance slip away briefly.

Jeongguk nods, gives a soft smile, and groans, "Please fuck me," and you lower yourself, giving in to his request.

The stretch of Jeongguk's pierced cock is just painful enough that your back bows, and you shiver through the sensation. Moans fall from both your lips as you take him, stopping only when you are fully seated in his lap with him buried deep inside you.

"So fucking tight," Jeongguk groans at the same time you whine, "Fuck, you're so big," and you chuckle in tandem, leaning forward enough to rest your foreheads against one another.

Without allowing either of you to adjust or catch your breath, you lift your hips and drop them down, spearing yourself on his thick, delicious length. Your voice is pitchy and broken, moans practically tumbling out as screams as you set a pace that is dizzying and rough.

Jeongguk's head falls against the headboard with a loud thunk, and you take the opportunity to wrap one hand around his throat while gripping his shoulder tightly in the other. With a gentle squeeze, Jeongguk's eyes widen before rolling back, and you slide your fingers up to hook into his mouth and force him to look at you.

"Louder," you moan through pitchy sounds of your own. "I want to hear you."

Perhaps it should come as no surprise that Jeongguk is so obedient; you have always wondered if there is a submissive side to him, as well. He lets you tug on his jaw and begins to moan deep, pretty sounds, and it sends a flurry of arousal through you—determination to push him to give you more.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," Jeongguk groans, slightly slurred around your fingers.

Eager to cum, you grind yourself down, pressing the tip of his cock right where you need him. The hand you have anchored on his shoulder drops between your legs, and you dance your fingers in circles over your clit, pushing yourself over the edge.

With a desperate moan, Jeongguk's head nearly falls back once more, and you hold him firmly in place, feeling drool slide from his mouth to your palm and wrist. You continue to grind and roll your hips, feeling yourself teetering just on the edge of collapse, rutting roughly against him.

"Such a good boy," you praise teasingly through gasps and moans. "Letting me use your cock to get myself off."

Jeongguk appears to begin saying something—wrapping his lips around consonants as well as your fingertips—but all he can manage is a broken, "Mmmnaaahh—" incoherent and useless, and pretty enough to inch you closer to the precipice of pleasure.

"That's it," you groan, slamming your hips up and down as you chase your high, "fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Pleasure grips you, white-hot and intense, and you quake as you ride him, struggling to force your legs to continue moving. The sight, sound, and feeling of Jeongguk have you absolutely reeling, and everything settles in your chest and gut, heavy and big and ready to explode.

"Fucking squeezing me, shit, so tight, baby," he groans as your fingers slip from his mouth and fall to the side.

Your hips still as your pussy continues to flutter and squeeze through orgasm, and you lose your strength, crashing forward against his shoulder. Jeongguk wraps his arms around yours, pinning them to your sides, then adjusts his legs and begins thrusting upward, hard and fast, making your head spin.

A cacophony of moans punctuated by screams fall from your mouth as you are pushed past overstimulation and quickly chasing a new high. Jeongguk lifts you and leans forward, attempting to place you on your back, though you scramble and more or less fall, spreading yourself wide while he shimmies onto his knees and takes his place between your legs, pressing warm palms gently against your thighs.

"Good?" Jeongguk asks—too big yet too small of a question for you to fully comprehend, so all you do is blink up and nod your head. He chuckles. "Do you need a break?"

"No," you croak, shaking your head almost frantically. "Fuck me, Jeon. Need you."

With a deep, eager groan, Jeongguk leans forward and fills you in one swift motion, thrusting while adjusting on his knees, tugging and lifting at your legs until one is draped over his shoulder and the other is wrapped around his hip. Jeongguk leans forward and brushes his fingertips over the apple of your cheek, gazing soft and reverent; so gentle compared to the brutal pace at which he fucks you, making your head absolutely spin.

"You feel so good," Jeongguk whimpers sweetly, squeezing his eyes closed before widening them, gaze fixed down on you. "So fucking good."

Words fail you, but you make an attempt, huffing a string of vowels, with some consonants mixed in, stuttering around, "Good," and, "Big," and attempts at his name. You bury your face in his soft, warm hand, huffing warmth into his palm while your eyes flutter closed and you sink into pleasure.

Fingertips graze over your clit, tentative at first, then direct. Your back arches and you gasp as arousal breaks and bursts throughout, coursing through your blood, filling every inch of you. Still not fully down from your last high, overstimulation vibrates through you, but you do your best to take it; you want him to make a mess of you.

When Jeongguk pulls out, it takes you by surprise, and you open your eyes wide, jutting your lip out in a pout. Jeongguk chuckles and begins to scoot toward the edge of your bed, standing and yanking on your ankle to reposition.

"Your bed is the perfect height," he says as you scoot and rotate, spreading your legs for him once more.

Your hips hang off the very edge at a slight downward angle, spearing you on his length, and you squeal as he thrusts straight up into your sweet spot. The pace Jeongguk sets is merciless and intoxicating, and you claw at the edge of the bed as your eyes flit between Jeongguk's sweaty, ripped body, his pretty, fucked out face, and your off-white ceiling.

Every vein and ripple and piece of metal drags along your walls, spilling nonsense from between your lips. You grasp at the comforter, attempting to hold on, feeling as if you could turn to goo and sink to the floor if you are not careful, but the material slides uselessly between your fingers.

A strong pressure builds, threatening to burst, which you recognize as the feeling you had before the baby squirt. Every inch of your sweat-slicked skin burns red hot, your eyes roll back, and you begin to heave through heavy lungs.

"Gonna—" you gasp, voice raspy and broken. "Fuck, Jeongguk, I'm—"

"That's it, baby, let me feel you cum," Jeongguk commands, leaning forward and driving his cock impossibly deeper. Sweat drips from his forehead to your tummy, tickling as it falls along your side, and you shudder, feeling all the more overwhelmed by the faintest sensation.

Although you do not need the encouragement, you place a hand between your legs and slowly drag your fingertips over your clit, up and down, pulling the intense wave of pleasure through you. You squirm and squeal, mouth held open in a silent scream, and Jeongguk's hips tremble and quake before he pulls out and drops to his knees, burying his face between your thighs and pulling the last of your orgasm with his lips and tongue.

Your legs fall without him there to hold them up—they may as well have turned to overcooked noodles. Jeongguk grips your ass, attempting to keep you from slipping off the mattress, but you are at too odd of an angle to do anything but crumple to the floor.

With a chuckle huffed between his lips as he stops you in time for your feet to hit the floor, Jeongguk firmly presses your hips into the side of the mattress as he stands, lips and chin slick with your release. You chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, and he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth before leaning for a kiss.

"I almost came," he confesses against your smiling lips.

"Figured," you tease, nipping at his little metal ring.

"Not done with you, yet," Jeongguk mutters, licking and sucking at your mouth in a way that is far too comical, making you push against his firm, sweaty chest.

"How do you have so much energy?" you groan, although you have no desire to stop. His silly nature is whiplash, however, and you feel shy standing in the nude beside your bed, still coming down from your last orgasm.

Jeongguk's smile softens, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. The sweat on your skin is beginning to turn cold, and you shiver in his hold, hugging him tighter.

"I could fuck you all day and night, baby," Jeongguk mutters.

He absolutely could not, but the thought brings goosebumps to your skin, especially with his voice dropped so low. You like that he wants to fuck you endlessly—that he feels for you the way you feel for him.

You hum against his neck, tasting salt on your lips, and mutter, "Do it, then," as you nip at his skin.

Jeongguk groans, lolling his head back for you to drag your lips and teeth over him. Then he grabs you by the hips and lifts you back onto the bed, using enough force that you actually bounce, gasping as you anchor yourself onto your elbows and instinctively open your legs.

"Want you on your knees," Jeongguk commands as he prowls forward, caging your hips with his muscular arms.

You scurry backward, then twist somewhat haphazardly, limbs still noodle soft, though you have gained a bit of your energy. The mattress dips behind you as you get onto your hands and knees. You hear a groan as two palms spread you, and as his tongue laves over your sensitive cunt, and your arms begin to tremble while a choked sob falls from your lips.

"Can I eat your ass?" Jeongguk asks as his thumbs gently brush the skin around your rim.

"Yes," you mutter, desperate to feel his tongue everywhere, "please."

Jeongguk squeezes at your soft flesh as his tongue dances over your puckered hole, and you tremble forward, falling onto your elbows with your face buried into the comforter, adjusting to a new, incredible sensation. He devours you, gently pressing his tongue into your hole and groaning as he licks and slurps and drools.

His mouth leaves you, then his hands, and you attempt to anchor yourself higher onto your hands once more, but the press of his cock entering your cunt from behind makes you quake, and you collapse forward, face turned with your cheek squished into the comforter. Try as you might to get your bearings, all you can do is scramble as Jeongguk rubs one palm along your back while he begins to fuck you fast and deep.

Cold saliva hits your ass as you hear the unmistakable sound of Jeongguk spitting, and you gasp, arching your back as the liquid slides over your rim, teasing you with the faintest touch. Then the press of a fingertip breaching your hole makes you squeal, and you grip tightly to the blanket, overwhelmed in the best way.

"Is this okay?" Jeongguk asks, and you nod frantically, desperate.

"Yes, please."

More spit dribbles down, sinking you further forward, and Jeongguk slowly prods his finger into you, twisting at the same tempo his cock pounds into your cunt. With one hand, you reach between your legs and graze your fingertips over your clit, and the wave that crashes over you is sudden, causing you to nearly scream.

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, undoubtedly feeling you squeezing around him as you plummet toward total physical collapse.

Jeongguk breaches your hole deep, probably past the knuckle, stinging so perfectly. You sob through it, hot and thick, drowning in lava. His piercings drag over your sweet spot, and you feel pressure build much like it had before, only more intense and dizzying.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, suddenly rushing and snapping through you like a wire pulled tautly. Your hand drops from your clit, and you scratch blunt fingernails against the bed as your high continues to build and rush, build and rush, gushing from you in waves.

Jeongguk's finger slides from your ass, then he uses both hands to grab you by the arms and lift you, sitting you high on your knees. From this angle, his piercings drag deeper and harder, grazing along your walls and blinding you with more pleasure, squelching from how wet he makes you.

"That's it, baby squirt," Jeongguk has the audacity to say at a time like this, "don't hold back. Fucking cover me in it."

And you would find the nickname a lot more annoying if you were not gushing cum around his cock, splashing your inner thighs and undoubtedly, the bed. Your mouth hangs agape, but you only manage to squeak and sob, tears filling your vision and clouding the room, which is covered in a thick, blissful haze.

Jeongguk's hips quake, losing their rhythm, and he grips tighter, pulling you until your back is pressed against his chest, head gently hitting his shoulder with each thrust.

"Gonna fill that tight, messy cunt," Jeongguk growls into your ear, covering you in goosebumps. "Gonna make you all mine. Is that what you want? To be mine?"

Reeling and struggling to move your lips, you manage to stammer a weak, "Please," that is broken around the edges.

"Good girl," Jeongguk praises, teeth dragging across your shoulder. "So good for me."

Jeongguk thrusts hard, knocking the wind from you as you jolt forward, thankful to be held in his tight grasp. When his hips still, the sweetest, pitchiest sob falls from his lips, which clamp onto your shoulder, sucking and whimpering against your skin as he empties himself into you.

The room spins, and you feel yourself slipping forward, helped down by strong, warm arms until you are lying against the soft refuge of your bed, drifting slowly away. Lips gently press into your shoulder, and you attempt to turn and face him, but Jeongguk is still buried deep inside you, and he wraps his leg over yours, pulling your back flush with his chest, holding you close.

"Wow," you gasp, unable to stop the soft chuckle that works through your body as the room begins to return to focus and the sheen of sweat covering you turns cold.

"Yeah," Jeongguk responds, lips dragging over your skin, lazily pressing affectionately along their quest.

"So...that just happened," you find yourself blurting, suddenly feeling shy, shivering in his grasp.

Jeongguk's limbs wrap tighter as he buries his face into your neck, muttering, "Yes, it did."

And now that you have fucked your best friend and poured every ounce of yourself into the task, you are acutely aware of the fact there is no turning back. Whatever line the two of you have crossed, you are stuck on this side of it for good.

Jeongguk clears his throat, huffing what you think may be a quiet laugh against your shoulder before dragging his lips over your skin, making you shudder.

"So, uh..." he begins, dancing his fingertips delicately over your hip as his soft cock slips from your cunt, bringing with it a combination of both your fluids, "...what, now?"

i know i mentioned glasses jk but there weren't photos that fit the color scheme for the banner, so here's a reminder.....bc even in potato quality he is still 🔥🥵😩

thank you for reading!

i do have a part 2 in the works but it may be a little bit before i get to it. let me know what you think! feedback and reblogs are the lifeblood of this hellsite. and likes are nice, too! 🥰

tags: @beautifulcloudfestival @btsiguess-kpop @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @jihopesjoint @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @pamzn @spookyminyunki @thelilbutifulthings @yoongiofmine ☁ want to be tagged in the things i write? dm me!

#thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x y/n #bts smut #bts fluff #fic: what now?

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vmpiires · 11 days

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﹆₊ 一人 ‧₊˚ NOT ALLOWED, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ he loves you so much. he just can’t understand why you don’t love him back. wc, 1.02K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. this story is based off ‘not allowed’ by tv girl and choso is obviously perfect for this idea i have. me and @5kstxrz were talking about the meanings of tv girl's lyrics and how deep they are. shit made me cry a bit...but i hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee (also, play the song while you read so you can immerse)

␥ tags. 90s AU, female reader, female anatomy, choso is in a one-sided love situation with reader, drinking, smoking, masturbation, jealousy, smut (?), lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

the acrid smell of smoke filled the small apartment, billowing up to the ceiling and swirling in an ominous dance. choso sat on the corner of the couch, playing with a switchblade in one hand while a cigarette dangled lazily from his lips. outside, the sky rumbled with thunder, and sheets of rain pounded against the glass panes as if pleading to be let inside.

the dim light cast shadows on the walls, making the atmosphere feel even more tense and foreboding. but choso remained unfazed, lost in his own thoughts as he absentmindedly flicked open and closed the blade in his hand.

the lit cigarette made a soft plop as it landed in the ornate, yet worn ashtray on the coffee table. it rolled around momentarily before coming to rest in a comfortable position. choso took a swig from his can of beer, lifting it to his lips and gulping down the cold, bitter liquid like a parched animal.

on the table in front of him lay scattered polaroids of you, your bright smile shining through the images. but in each one, there was also a man whose face had been scribbled out with a bold black permanent marker. you were always so beautiful, he thought to himself. why would you waste your time with someone who never even bothered to take you dancing, playing with your head?

choso gazed intently at the breathtaking backdrop of the spring season. the delicate cherry blossom trees adorned the landscape, their branches gracefully draping overhead like a string of luminous lanterns during the lunar year. the vibrant pink petals danced in the gentle breeze, filling the air with a sweet floral fragrance that intoxicated the senses.

as he observed this picturesque scene, choso couldn't help but wonder if this man you were so in love with was truly bringing joy and happiness into your life. did he ever make you cum? did he ever make you cry? he wasn't sure but, he was truly determined to change all of that for you.

those little wires in your mind were being sewn together, rubbed, and severed by the heat. you couldn't even begin to fathom how long choso could stare into your picture and wish that it was him instead of that parasite you call your crush.

choso knew he couldn't be angry. it wouldn't be fair for you. i guess it's different because you love him, he thought to himself as he took another swig of his beer, a thin trail of saliva stretching from his bottom lip to the metal of the can.

as the male drank, forcing himself to forget about you and how you were probably getting pounded into the mattress by someone who wasn't him, he decided to use his own sick and twisted imagination. his mind was always interactive, and his dreams were vivid and memorable. they always made him smile when you were in those dreams.

in a recent dream, choso found himself standing on your doorstep, his hot breath fanning over your forehead as he leaned in to lick the sweat from your skin. your fingers were tangled in his hair, gently tugging and guiding him closer. the air was thick with desire as leather jackets fell to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

as he reminisced about this dream, choso felt his hips bucking lightly against his fist, a low groan escaping his lips as he imagined it was your touch instead of his. he could almost feel your hand wrapped around him, slick with saliva as you teased and stroked him. or maybe it was your mouth, warm and wet as the pink muscle slid against his glossy tip, driving him wild with pleasure.

a chaotic mess of papers littered his room, each one filled with love letters, soulful song lyrics, and passionate poems - all written for you. he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever have the courage to send one to you or serenade you with a single sonnet. would you even appreciate them? he worried they would turn sour instantly, the words losing their potency once spoken aloud when he's only being honest.

his fingertips were stained with traces of his own release, a physical manifestation of the emotions and alcohol coursing through his veins. the weight of his head against the arm of the couch added to the sensation of being drunk, both from the liquor and his turbulent thoughts. his gaze rested on the landline phone hanging against the wall, its cord twisting like a snake in mid-air.

he leaned back against the arm of the couch, his head tilted upwards as if searching for answers in the ceiling above. the room was spinning around him, the only still object being the glowing numbers on the digital clock ticking away on the side table. you never called. and choso was starting to suspect that you don't intend to do anything you say at all. wasting your tongue with lame excuses and lies.

“fuck,” the curse slipped out between his gritted teeth as he glared at the relentless rain. it was like a physical manifestation of a third party that was blocking him from reaching you, his heart's desire. the sound of the downpour echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of his unrequited love for you as you remained locked away in your house, captivated by the shadows of clouds rather than the beauty of the falling rain or the sweet aroma it brought as it pattered against the asphalt, and it only added to his frustration.

choso berated himself for being foolish enough to fall for someone like you. but it was okay. even if he was sitting alone, watching from a distance as you dashed off with another man, he didn't mind remaining just your friend. just for a little bit longer. even if it meant having even a small place in your life.

as the rain continued its steady rhythm against the asphalt, he couldn't help but feel that it mirrored his own emotions - a constant and unyielding force that would never be satisfied.

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bebemoon · 8 days

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summer on the lake | dumbgood 'the exorcist' t-shirt, abbie walsh floral tie-side knickers, saie water bottle, lele sadoughi 'oceanside' oval sunglasses, karla cosmetics 'tutu' pastel duochrome loose eyeshadow, apple doll tinted nectar salve in shade 'forbidden fruit', my mum made it pearl beaded bow hair pins, garden glory 'couture' canvas pool float in pink, aaliyah - 'one in a million' vinyl lp, paperback copy of 'just kids' by patti smith, kopari sunglaze sheer body mist sunscreen, vivienne westwood metal travel ashtray

#lake #summer #mine #collection #queue

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jesterwriting · 6 months

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characters: sanji x vampire!gn!reader

contents: handjobs, bottom sanji, blood drinking gone sexual, reader is slightly animalistic from hunger, sanji is always happy to provide a meal, medically inaccurate, not proofread

word count: 1.5k words

note: i got vampire brainrot at 3 am last night. that is all.

playlist: tear you apart - she wants revenge

Hungry.

You were painfully hungry.

Your stomach clenched, growling so loud, you were sure it would wake the crew. Though your heart no longer beat, you couldn’t help the fear that coursed through your veins at the thought. The last thing you needed was one of your friends coming across you when you were starving, slathering like an animal as you paced on deck in the dead of night.

Everything hurt. Your instincts were going haywire with the all encompassing desire to feed; to sink your claws into whatever living creature who dared cross your path and bleed them dry.

The new moon hung overhead and the deck was bathed in shadows. Your sight was not hindered by the lack of light, pupils dilated so large your eyes were sure to be a sea of black. Stalking forward, your footsteps faltered when you heard a sound from the kitchen.

Bu-bump.

A heartbeat. Your lips pulled back in a snarl as saliva pooled in your mouth. It was a lone heartbeat, pumping liters of fresh blood through the veins of a silly little human who was up too late for their own good.

Your world was bathed in shades of gray. The varnish of the wood at your feet seemed to be etched in silver. Night vision was not only practical, but beautiful. If you weren’t so damn hungry, you would take a moment to appreciate it.

Opening your mouth, you scented the air. You recoiled when the sour, but familiar, taste of cigarettes hit the back of your throat.

You knew who was waiting for you in the kitchen. The one whose heartbeat called to you, sang to you, begged to be devoured. Your hands shook at your sides, the door to the kitchen growing closer as your feet moved of their own accord. The rational side of you screamed at you to leave, to lock yourself in your room until morning where you would land on an island and finally restock your blood supply. The animal side of you, however, was never one to give up on a meal.

You loved your friends, they were like family to you. Not once did they make you feel guilt for your dietary needs, nor did they make you feel like a monster. Now, as you ran your tongue over your fangs, you wished they were scared of you. The desire to hunt was buried deep in your very marrow, muscles clenched tightly in preparation to pounce as you turned the knob. You dreamed of the sensation of sinking your teeth into soft, prone flesh. Warm with life, so different from your own.

Light blinded you for a second. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the brightness, before Sanji’s figure drew your eye. He was hunched over the sink, staring out of the porthole.

You could smell him from here. What would his blood taste like, you wondered. Rich, meaty, or floral. Your fingers twitched in anticipation, clawed nails grazed the flesh of your palm. Sanji still hadn’t noticed you, too caught up in his own thoughts to see your approach. Every squeaky board on the ship was memorized in the back of your head. It was almost a dance: step, turn, dip, step again, as you quietly stalked toward the ship’s cook.

You could see the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Sanji whipped around, revealing an ashtray with a still smoking cigarette resting in it.

“Y/N?”

The acrid stench of fear filled the room, if only for a moment, before Sanji relaxed. You met his eyes and mimicked his stance, mouth open slightly to taste the air. He was so close, you could practically taste him. It wasn’t until you heard a loud ‘plop,’ did you realize you were drooling.

Concern flitted over his face as Sanji drew closer to you. He was so warm, smelled so delectable, it took all of your self control to keep from pouncing on him and draining him dry. You gripped the counter so hard it cracked.

The noise caused Sanji’s expression to jump. Gently, he placed his hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Hungry,” You ground out.

You didn’t realize he had removed his coat until the top few buttons of his dress shirt were loose. Sanji tilted his head to the side to reveal the pale column of his throat. You swallowed hard.

“So eat.”

Hands shaking, you struggled to contain yourself as you approached him. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“I trust you,” Sanji said, as if you weren’t a monster, drooling at the sight of him.

You trailed your fingers down his cheek and along his jaw, watching a trail goosebumps well in their wake. He trembled under your grasp, but there was no longer the scent fear in the air. Sanji was telling the truth, he really trusted you.

Breath shaky, you brought your lips to his jugular. “Kick me if you feel faint.”

“I won’t have to do that.”

The scent of him was driving you mad. Unable to control yourself any longer, you sank your fangs into his tender flesh. Sanji let out a gasp and brought his hand to cup the back of your head as you started to suck. Your fingers tangled in his hair to drag him closer to you. He tasted heavenly and floral. Almost like rose water, but richer, the barest hint of iron tickling the back of your throat. You moaned, sending vibrations against his skin as you drank from him, desperate to fill yourself with as much of him as you could.

Sanji’s whimpered as your tongue darted out to caress him, the pink muscle leaving a sticky trail of saliva as your feast grew sloppier. You wanted more of him, from flesh, to bone, to marrow, devouring him whole until nothing was left behind. Sanji’s sweat was salty. It only added to the bouquet of flavors you were indulging in. Gently, you stroked his face with your free hand, a silent praise of how good he was being for you. With a breathy gasp, Sanji tilted his head back, eyelashes fluttering against your palm.

“Taste good, love?” You tried not to focus on how his voice hitched when your lips suctioned against his jugular. An insatiable heat pooled in your gut.

You responded by placing an open mouthed kiss to his skin. He shivered under your lips. He could feel you smirk as you dragged your hand down his chest and along his hip to his crotch where you met the hard bulge in his slacks. Your fingers were gentle, toying with him.

“Say the word and I stop,” You muttered.

Sanji bucked into your palm. “Please, don’t stop.”

Expertly, you unbuttoned his pants and slipped your hand under his waistline. His cock throbbed when you gripped him, a small moan falling from Sanji’s lips and into the air where you could taste his arousal. He was hot, almost too hot, against your palm. There was a small part of you that was worried your naturally frigid body temperature would be a turn off for him, but he seemed to be enjoying it if his desperate thrusts into your hand were any indication. You spread precum down his cock until he was slick enough for your hand to glide along the length of him. He whined when your thumb brushed over the head, only for the noise to cut short when you suckled the sensitive skin of his throat. Your sharp fangs lightly nipped at whatever inch of skin you could find.

He was delicious, pliant and soft under you. What you wouldn’t give to have Sanji moaning like this every night. With the taste of roses on your lips, you sped up your ministrations, moving on from lazy flicks of your wrist to rapid strokes that met the speed of his thrusts. He was shuddering as he panted, the noise so hot you could barely stand it. What was once feeding became a trail of hickies along his collarbone. You could feel his body tense, Sanji’s grip in your hair tightening.

“F-Fuck, I’m cumming,” Was the only warning you got before he spurt hot ropes of cum against your fingers and into the fabric of his underwear.

You continued to stroke him, giggling as he twitched in your arms, before removing your hand from his now soft cock. Full for the first time in days, you lapped at Sanji’s wound until it closed. Healing spit was one of the few benefits of being a vampire, aside from enhanced strength and speed. You pulled away and wiped your lips with the back of your hand, smearing blood and semen across the bottom half of your face. Sanji stared down at you as if you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, even as filthy as you were.

He stumbled, and you took great care to slowly bring him to a sitting position on the floor. “You’re probably lightheaded, I drank a lot.”

Somewhat pale, Sanji met your worried gaze with a smile. “Nonsense, my angel, Next time you're hungry, feel free to seek me out. I am a meal made for you to enjoy.”

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you #.jesterwrites

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mykneeshurt · 1 year

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Sloth

Artwork by @loneghostwolf <3

Valeria x AFAB!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, f in v, oral f receiving, overstimulation, squirting

Sigh. I want a night with Valeria. She smells like Baccarat Rouge 540. Exquisite. I’ve written this with two females in mind however this can probably be read as gender neutral if you so wish.

•

Valeria Garza.

El sin Nombre.

Your boss. Your confidant. Your lover.

She laid on your shared bed, entwined between sheets of emerald silk, surrounded by red and gold pillows. Her thigh peeked out from beneath the glossy material, the golden light from the chandelier doused her in a warm glow. A cigarette between her lips as he rested her head on the dark oak headboard. A four poster bed. At her insistence of course.

Everything about Valeria screamed expensive, she smelt of amber and fine wood mixed with a subtle floral note. A Merlot sat in the vintage wine glass which she cradled in the palm of her hand. Waiting for you.

The heavy bedroom door eventually opened and you slipped in, while she loved you dearly she wasn’t ready to go public quite yet. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed, she just didn’t want you to be put in any danger. Not that you minded, it was more fun being her little secret. On seeing your form penetrate the darkness of the hall she smiled. A soft yet possessive smile ‘mi Vida’ she hummed.

She looked like a goddess amongst the silk sheets, the hem sat softy underneath her collarbone. Cigarette between her elegant fingers as she finally sipped at the wine. She motioned towards another she had poured for you. After closing the door you climbed into bed next to her, her aroma instantly invaded all your senses. Placing a soft kiss onto her lips she sighed, her umber eyes sparked in a golden hue of the room. Warm and thick.

‘I’ve had a hard day’ she whispered against your lips, it was a statement. Not an observation. You cocked a brow knowing full well what this meant. She wanted to be pleasured, to be worshipped and doted upon. She wanted you to make her feel good while she led there watched you work.

She didn’t want to do anything.

Nothing except feel your tongue graze her folds.

Feel your lips as they travelled down to the juncture of her thighs.

When she was in this mood she was the epitome of sloth.

Nuzzling into her neck you whispered loving phrases as she threw her head back, elongating her neck. You slipped your hand under the sheets to find she was completely naked. Her skin was soft to the touch, she groaned slightly as you drew small circles with your nails. Savouring every scar and blemish under your fingertips.

She rolled her hips slightly, ‘more mi Vida’ she muttered, the artery in her neck kissed your lips with every beat of her heart. You nipped at her ear lobe before trialling kissed down her neck, her collar bone. As you removed the sheet you trailed your tongue down her chest, kissing and sucking on her nipple. She bit her lip as she stubbed out her cigarette in a gold ashtray.

You looked up at her through your lashes as you pulled her nipple between your teeth. ‘Keep going’ she ordered, rolling her hips into you one once more. Using your tongue to map her body you kissed, nipped and licked your way to the juncture of her thighs. Sinking your teeth into the fatty part of the inner thigh she hissed through her teeth, moaning words of praise in her mother tongue.

Pushing her thighs back you kissed her beautiful cunt, glistening from your touch. You dig your nails into her thighs, leaving crescent shaped divots in your wake. Hovering your mouth above her pussy your breath fanned over it, sending a shiver through her spine. Looking up at her she began to pant, her hair messy, strands falling around her face. ‘Please mi amor’ her voice was strained, full of want.

With a devilish smile on your face you swept your tongue along her slit, before resting it on her clit. She jolted at the sudden pressure of your tongue on her bundle of nerves. Her breath became heavy, muscles tensing in her legs as she pointed her toes. She tasted sweet, her arousal coated your tongue as you worked her cunt with your tongue. Leaning back slightly you spat onto her clit, before teasing her hole with your finger. Just one to begin with, tantalisingly slow, in and out. Still giving your undivided attention to her clit, she began to moan your name under her breath.

Hearing your name on her tongue caused you to clench, it was thick like molten gold. You added another finger, stretching her open, she rolled her hips as she slid her fingers in your hair. You thrusted your fingers in rhythm with your tongue, languid and firm. Moaning into her cunt the vibrations tumbled against her causing her breath to hitch in her throat.

Valeria loved nothing more than you eating her pussy, working her holes with your fingers. Watching as you smiled, eyes rolling back at her taste. It got her off as much as it did you. You loved to please her, and if her being a pillow princess doing nothing made her happy, then you were keen to oblige.

The sound of her pussy emanated around the the grand bedroom you both shared. Spurring you on, ‘so good mi Vida’ she panted as she raked her nails along your scalp. Upping your pace you felt her become wetter against your fingers, the mixture of your saliva and her arousal ran down your fingers. A delicious concoction.

She began to tighten around your fingers, her slick walls clamping down on you with every thrust. High pitched moans ricocheted within your ears as you worked her closer to her looming orgasm. ‘Don’t stop, right there’ she panted. ‘Cum for me Val’ you ordered ‘wanna hear you baby.’ She arched her back off the bed, the one emerald sheets now stained a forest green. Placing her hand against the headboard she rode your face, rolling and thrusting her hips against you.

You could read her body well, her breaths were short and shallow, eyes glazed, pupils blown wide as she tongued her swollen bottom lip. ‘Give it to me … fuck Valeria’ you drawled, that’s when she feel over the precipice. Her walls clenched before pulsating on your fingers, sweet strained moans of pleasure engulfed the room. You kept your fingers moving, pushing her further and further.

Her moans turned to pleas for you to stop, overstimulated beyond the wall of pleasure. ‘Oh Val, if you’re gonna lie there I’m gonna take what I want … and you know what I want.’ Your voice was quiet, commanding. Out there she was in charge. In here? It was you.

You placed a tender kiss to her thigh before sliding yourself next to her, ‘open’ you ordered. Pushing your fingers into her mouth she groaned at the taste of herself. Coating your fingers with her saliva, nectar of the gods themselves, you pushed them back into her. She nuzzled into your neck, sweet sweet moans of pleasure rippled into your skin.

Rubbing your fingers against her walls you vibrated them vigorously, pushing her, tormenting her. Her pink coloured nails gripped into you, pinching your skin. ‘Let me have it Valeria, give it to me’ you whispered into her ear. She writhed beneath your touch, jarring her hips, feet pointed and strained.

There came the sound you were waiting for. She became wetter and wetter, until she was gushing. All over your fingers, your hand. Her moans of ecstasy seeped into your lungs as you watched her saturate the bedsheets with her cum. Gripping her jaw you forced her to look at you, ‘good girl.’ Sucking off the remaining arousal you savoured her taste, before cupping her jaw and pulling her into a deep and passionate kiss.

———-

@taurus-ted @luminousbeings-crudematter

#valeria garza #valeria x reader #Valeria x you #call of duty mw2 #mw2 valeria #mw2 #mw2 2022 #mw2 smut #Valeria smut

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hiskillingjar · 3 months

Note

hiihi just wanted to make a request for maybe like headcanons or drabbles or rlly whatevr medium you prefer abt lawrence strade or ren w/ dollification. i just think that some of the boys r wayyy better at taking care of their dolls than others LOL. strade would probably just use it as an excuse to totally manhandle n beat up an MC more but... i think ren would take care of a "doll" better imo

hrghhhhh i hate you people, you can't keep using this kink against me

since i already wrote a headcanon post very similar to this, i thought i'd just. write some drabbles because i'm insane and i hate working on actual writing lmao

cw for some gory descriptions in law's and strade's parts. as expected. also i posted this on ao3 because why not :P

🥀

"Law…Law~"

Your voice was as quiet as the coo of a dove from where you were sitting, settled down at Lawrence's feet while they attended to potting a new plant, the haze of marijuana smoke streaming from their lips like a slumbering dragon as the humidifier steamed up the wide windows of the apartment, as if they were trying to conceal you (what you had become, what they made you) from the rest of the world, keep you to themselves.

Your brain was as hazy as theirs with similarly strong drugs, administered through poisoned tea in a floral teacup, which left you doped up and thoughtless, vulnerable to any cruel intentions that they had with you.

Not like you cared about their intentions anymore though. You didn't have the brain to.

"Shhh…"

Lawrence didn't look directly at you, but they still smiled as they shushed you, the corners of their pretty mouth curling up into a serene smile, as peaceful and detached as an angel, a benevolent Goddess looking at a lamb left behind for the slaughter by a sadistic master.

Adequately silenced, you let out a sleepy moan in place of any more words, pressing your heavy head against their leg (you barely reached their knee now) and nuzzling it the best you could, what little remained of your brain seeking comfort from them, no matter what the cost might have been (and it could be steep, when Lawrence was the one administering the toll).

Tonight, though, they seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps it was the stream of smoke from their lips or the still burning joint in the ashtray at the side, but whatever the cause, they couldn't help but laugh quietly as you kept nuzzling up against their leg.

"Oh, there you are." They said kindly. "That's my good doll. My special, little doll…"

They continued to work on their plants, though they were kind enough to reward you with a few head scritches, to let you know they were paying attention to you, and appreciating your sweet, docile form at their feet.

You instinctively raised your head to press against their palm, letting them stroke through your hair even more, chasing after each touch with trilled moans and high whimpering whines.

Lawrence had to smile again, finally looking down on you (their smile never touching their eyes, the stiff grin of a corpse, a girl in the water, a bride in a freezer) as you rose on your injured knees to lean into their hand, admiring the way your hair (a little greasy and matted, they hadn't been taking care of you too well as of late) fell around your bruised face, and the pinpricks of blood that were dotted on your lips made you look made up and pretty, like a figure or a toy.

This was the way you were meant to be, and you knew that. You were meant to be a sweet little thing for them to care for, a doll who'd had their joint popped out by a child who played too roughly with their toys, so docile and so trusting that you would obey whatever order came from them.

Or, at the very least, not put up too much of a fight against it.

"Law…" You whined softly, trying to sit forward on your knees, the infected cuts (you probably had sepsis of some kind, the hack job through your limbs had been done so sloppily, though not like you had the mind to be worried about that of all things) bound with blood-dotted bandages, pain cutting through the haze of pleasurable cotton padding in your head. "Mm, please…"

Lawrence looked at you curiously as you asked for something, the gentle strokes of their fingers pausing.

"Do you want something, love?"

"Mmm…"

They glanced at you, those beautiful, dead eyes dull with a familiar calmness and serenity that deadened their senses and made them all the more irresistible.

In your drugged state, it was easy to fall into a contented and submissive silence despite the searing pain that haunted you whenever you were sober enough to feel it, content to just be in Lawrence's presence and enjoy your life, or rather the remnants of it, as their doll.

You hummed again as they continued to stroke your hair, letting yourself settle at their feet, subdued into quiet submission at their touch.

"Can I have some more tea?" You finally asked after a few moments of quiet, distracted by a sudden searing sensation in what used to be your right leg. "Please…"

Lawrence chuckled softly at your question, shaking their head slightly without even looking at you.

"Oh…doll, I don't think that'd be a good idea…"

There was a subtle edge to their voice now, a lowness and authority that you weren't completely used to, as if they were trying to make a point.

"Remember the last time you had a second serving? Your mouth went numb and you couldn't keep your thoughts in line. I could barely understand you all night, had to shut you up just to stop you from babbling and babbling…" They looked at you again, with a quirk of their head, barely a light in those dead eyes. "Remember that, dolly? Or did you forget?"

"Mm…please?" You pouted all the same as you continued to plead, your blood-pricked lips trembling, watching as they sighed and set their tools down, stooping down to your level and scraping back a lock of blonde hair behind their ear with dirty hands. "It's hurting again, Law…hurting awful."

"Shh…it's okay, little doll…"

Lawrence kept the tone of their voice as gentle as they could, trying to soothe you as they reached forward to stroke over each stump of what used to be your limbs. Your wounds were still bad, made worse by the dirt constantly clinging to their fingers when they attended to them as best they could, but you were, at least, always too drugged to feel the severity of the pain, too drugged from the chemicals in their brew and too drugged from the sleepy calmness in their voice, to notice how bad they'd gotten in the weeks since they'd first done it.

"Okay, petal…okay." They nodded, their long (lovely) fingers stilling. "I'll give you some more tea, but you better not take too much this time, you hear me?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded with a grateful smile, following behind them on all fours, like an innocent, little lamb (being led to the slaughter) as they stood back to their feet and paced to the small kitchen connected to the rest of the apartment. "Thank you, thank you~"

"Of course, darling…of course."

They kept their back to you as they went ahead to the kitchen for your next serving of drugs, clicking the kettle on and spooning teaspoons of herbs into your special teacup.

"I have to do everything I can to keep my doll quiet and sweet on me…isn't that right?"

🦊

"Okay, baby, what does this say?"

Ren asked the question sweetly, the tone of his voice similar to that of a kind teacher speaking to a particularly challenging student as he held the book to your eyes, his golden gaze encouraging and warm.

You screwed up your expression thoughtfully, your bound hands curling into fists in the fluffy tulle of your skirt as you focused intently on the book, trying to put the letters together and make the word he was teaching you in your muddled-up brain.

Ren didn't mind that you were muddled up now, though, especially since he had gone through such an effort to do it in the first place.

In fact, he liked the opportunity to teach you new things, teach you not to resist him when he forced you into girly, fetish outfits, and teach you to be exactly the type of pet he wanted.

One who was just as eager about his teaching as he was.

"Fuh…uh," You sounded out, crossing your socked feet (white and frilly around the ankles) under you as he nodded eagerly at your words. "Ex. Fu-uh-ex."

"Yes, yes, you're almost there!" He said with a bright grin, his fangs shiny and wet as he nodded again. "Fuh, that's an F." He pointed at each bold letter with a claw, sounding it out just as you did so you'd have a better understanding of him. "Uh, that's an O. And ex, that's an X." He looked to you again before pointing at the cartoonish illustration at the top of the page. "And what's this? What does that spell out?"

"That's Ren!" You said excitedly, grinning at the cartoon fox on the thick boarded book before looking back to him, waiting for praise.

"Good doll!" He said with a yipping giggle, covering his mouth with his jacket sleeve to stop it from growing louder. "Heh, that's very good, but not quite. What does it spell, dolly? Use your brain to work it out."

You didn’t need to remind him that you didn’t have much of a brain left.

"Mmmm…" You looked thoughtful again, following each time his claw moved with your bright, and yet utterly empty eyes again. "Fuh…uh…ex. Oh, it's fox!" You smiled victoriously, looking into his eyes. "Fox, it's a fox, just like Ren!"

"Wow, good job!" He praised encouragingly (condescendingly), setting down the book and clapping his hands. "So smart, dolly, you did so, so well!~"

You beamed proudly as he leaned forward, a familiar sticker sheet of golden star stickers in hand, and peeled two off to lay flat on each of your cheeks, a reward for being so smart. Your skin was powdery and matte with concealer and blush to hide your bruises, so the stickers almost instantly tried to peel away, but neither of you minded.

It was the thought that counted, after all.

"You're doing such a good job with your reading today, dolly, I think we should give you an even bigger reward." Ren sat back on his knees with a familiar grin on his face. "What do you think?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded obediently, your empty eyes lighting up as he slid off the bed (your bed, not his, but he slept in it with you so often that it might have well have been) and fetched your favourite wand from the bedside table drawer, full of similarly well-used toys in varying colours and sizes.

Ren chuckled at your eager expression and slid the wheel of the wand up, watching intently as it buzzed to life in his hands before his eyes went back to yours and narrowed, a new air of quiet authority taking over his expression.

"Raise your skirts, doll." He ordered, and you did so almost instantly.

The jangling chain of your wrist cuffs (loose and comfortable, almost exclusively there for show) was light and delicate as you pulled the cotton skirt of your dress and scratchy tulle petticoat up your soft thighs to reveal your panties, already slightly damp, desire soaking into the cheesy pink and heart-adorned graphic, reading 'Princess'.

"Good girl," He praised, his voice a soft purr, lowering the rumbling head of the vibrator to the front of your panties (just over the graphic) and watching with a salacious smile as you instantly started to moan and whine at the sensation. "Good doll. Happy to see your best friend, huh?”

“Mmm…” You groaned with a little nod, doing your best to rock your hips forward and chase after the pleasurable vibrations, biting your pink and pouty lips as your eyelids fluttered from the sharp shocks from the wand. “Yeah, yeah…so happy.”

“Mm, it seems like kind of a waste of time to be teaching you, though,” Ren started, sitting up on his knees to cup your chin with his free hand, sliding the vibrator into your panties and positioning it against your already erect clit, eyes sparkling at your instant desperate and high pitched moan. “You know, when I can make you all cute and stupid again just by using this thing, right?”

“Nnhhh…hah…” You groaned, burying your fists into your skirts, your expression screwing up again as he sloooowly turned the speed and intensity of the vibrator up a few more notches, the sensations sharp and quasi-painful…or at least they would be painful, had you not been trained to receive pain as mind melting pleasure. “OHHH! Ah, ah, mm!”

“Ah, there it is.” Ren said airily, giggling as he looked deeply into your fluttering eyes, his own shining with malice. “All those thoughts leaking out of you. My, my, dolly, whatever am I going to do with you if you stay this fucking stupid, huh?~”

“Rennnn…” You whined, trying to shy away from the wand as he slid it up another notch, each jolt of brutal pleasure enough to make your mind wipe and your vision go spotty. “Nghhh, god…”

“I suppose I’m just going to have to take care of you forever, aren’t I?” Ren continued, answering his own question as he leaned closer, rubbing the bridge of his nose against your jaw, scenting you, the soft whisps of his hair tickling your made-up cheek. “I’m going to have to dress you, and feed you, and teach you everything you’ve forgotten, hm?”

“Yesss,” You whined with a deliriously happy smile, pressing closer to him, bound hands reaching up to grab the front of his jacket and pull him in close. “Yes, yes, please take care of me, please…”

“Oh, dolly,” He moaned softly, suddenly straddling your soft thigh and pressing his own groin down against it, giving away instantly that he was rock hard. “Oh, sweet thing, of course, I’ll take care of you…it would be my pleasure to.”

You let out a trembling little giggle, girlish and sweet, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, rutting up against the vibrator as he rutted down against your thigh, breathing heavily as he listened to each of your own ragged breaths.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He mumbled, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek as his free hand drifted away from your face and groped at your chest through the bodice of the lolita-style dress he had wrangled you into that morning. “You’re going to feel so good that you’re never going to want to leave, even if I ever let you have your old brain back…”

“And don’t count on me doing that any time soon, dolly. You’re too fun like this~”

🔨

"Gooood morning, fraulein!~"

Strade's voice was a sickeningly enthusiastic drawl as he switched on the lights, his steps heavy on the wooden stairs, each one groaning beneath his weight as he sank into the depths of the basement, like a demon sinking back into the warming flames of Hell, tired out after pretending to be a human for a little too long.

Not like you were all that clued into his demonic intentions. You were that out of it, your brain slurred and muddled into dumbed-down subservience from his pain and torture.

Maybe there was a mercy to that, a mercy to ignorance so that you would not go (more) insane due to his abuse, his characteristic recklessness from treating his ‘toys’ a little too roughly.

Were demons known for their merciful nature? You didn't remember.

You didn't remember anything.

"Good morning," You slurred through a mouthful of dry, coppery blood, attempting a bright smile as he pushed a hand into your hair and forced your eyes up towards his so that he could inspect you, and get a good look at you in the morning light.

Well, the basement light, anyway. You hadn’t seen morning in days at this point.

"Ah, just look at you." He commented in a voice purring with approval, running a thick finger over your black eye and down the growing bruise on your cheek, dark purple and blue painting your skin like a painting of brutality and pain. "Pretty as a picture, as always. I missed you last night, you know!"

"You did?" You tilted your head dopily and smiled a little bigger, flashing a broken molar at the back of your grin, a reminder of his brutal love (or, more appropriately, lust the previous night. "That's so nice of you to say. I missed you too."

"Mm, it is nice of me, isn't it?" He repeated with a good-natured chuckle, shaking his head fondly. "I'm in a nice kind of mood today." He continued, idly scratching at your scalp with his grimy fingernails, petting you like an animal at his feet. You were all too eager to keen up to his touch as he pleased, be the animal that he wanted. "So nice, I might not beat up that pretty face all too much today. You took an awful lot yesterday, after all." He let go of your hair to tap your broken nose, smiling a little broader at your moan of pain. “Isn’t that right, doll? I think you managed to bruise my knuckles back, actually!”

"Mmmm…" You hummed a low affirmative moan, shivering as the tip of his boot grazed over your purpling knees, marred with bloody cuts and grazes left over from days and nights crawling back and forth the rough cement ground. "That would be lovely..."

"Lovely, eh? Hah, don't think you're going to get off easily though, dummkopf," He let out another laugh, not a smooth chuckle, though, more like the barking cackle of a hyena, his thick brows furrowing in dark amusement as he spoke a language you couldn't understand (though you barely understood him when he spoke English, at times). "I still need to make use of you somehow, ja? So you don't prove too useless to keep around..."

Before you even had the chance to consider the threat behind his words, he reached down with his free hand to unzip his trousers and urged your head forward with another firm grip on your hair. As your bruised cheek pressed against his soft thigh, you couldn’t help but purr in pleasure, just feeling his all-encompassing warmth against you, stifling and boiling hot just like a creature from Hell should be.

"No, no, I have a better idea of what to do with you," He continued, his voice low as you rubbed your cheek against his thigh. "What do you think, doll?" He drawled, a foreign and unfamiliar name (even to him) thick on his poisonous tongue. "Want me to sink my dick down your throat and scramble your brain up even more?"

“Mm,” You moaned in approval, opening your mouth obediently as he tucked his boxers down around his thick cock and pressed into your open, bloody mouth, taking in a low hiss through his teeth at the feeling of your wet tongue, in spite of everything.

Barely moments into your task, as you bobbed your head up and down, your sore jaw manuvered like a puppet on his cock, you found your legs spreading obediently (unconciously, automatically, like it had been trained into you) as he slid the tip of his boot to your cunt (the only place not battered or bruised just yet) and slowly rubbed at it, up and down, growling his approval when your slit left behind a despicably thick smear of pre-cum on the dark leather.

“God,” He mumbled hotly with a rasped chuckle, tipping his head back, his eyes on the single lightbulb hanging from the basement ceiling. “You’re fucking depraved, doll. I’d feel bad for treating you so rough, you know, if I didn’t know you got off on it. Quite the nasty, little toy you are, huh?”

Your eyes fluttered uselessly, like the glass eyes of a baby doll, as he forced your mouth to take his entire length, the lack of oxygen enough to make them roll back into your empty skull as tears ran down your cheeks, glossing the canvas of bruises that he had left behind.

“Mm, nah, actually, I wouldn’t feel bad about it at all.” He mumbled, before looking down at you again, untangling his fingers from your hair and planting a firm smack on your bruised cheek. “You’re just too pretty when I beat you up a little. I can’t resist!”

You yelped when he slapped you again, trying to pull back from the aphyxiating warmth of his cock, but that only encouraged him to force himself deeper, burying your broken nose into the dark hairs at the base and matting them together with your blood.

“Plus, it makes you fight back a little. I like that.” He said again with a heavy sigh, his golden eyes narrowing hungrily. “It’s like there’s a little part of you still trying to resist me, but aw,” He clicked his tongue, giving your cheek another (albeit slightly lighter) slap. “You’re too stupid to let that side of you win now, aren’t you, fraulein?”

“Mmmph,” You groaned, doing your best to nod and squeezing your eyes shut, a new stream of tears running down your cheeks, smearing blood, painting bruises.

“You can’t fight me,” He then said, going back to a pattern of brutal thrusts, bruising your throat and forcing obscene ‘GHK-GHK!’ noises from your throat, all the while rubbing his boot against your cunt. “And you don’t want to. You get off on being treated like a fuck toy too much to fight, don’t you?”

“Mmm~” You moaned, staring up at him with wide, wet eyes as you reached down with bruised and broken fingers, wrists marred with rope burn and the imprints of chains and shakles, to touch yourself.

“Scheußlich,” He chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. “Nasty, nasty little girl…mmph, you should be careful, you know?” He bit his lip with a sudden dark look in his eyes, puppeteering your mouth up and down his cock a little faster, a little more erratically, his full hips slamming against your cheeks, your chin.

“I might just fall in love with you, if you keep behaving like this~”

#ren hana #ren btd #ren x mc #ren x reader #lawrence oleander #lawrence btd #lawrence x mc #lawrence x reader #strade btd #strade x reader #strade x mc #drabbles #qs #roman roy voice: YEAH WHATEVER FUCK OFF

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

Text

Home: Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader

Tagging: @corruptedcoffin @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @nu1freakshow @oureternalbond @rubes2323 @darqchilddaydreamz @yourwinchesterbros @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @samanthaofanarchy

Companion Piece to Safe and Gunpowder & Lead

Your living room is a mess, worse than you remembered. You stare at the blood smeared across the carpet and press your fingers to the gash on your cheek, the skin knitted together with butterfly stitches. It comes back in a flurry, snapshots of agony blended in with the violence. Peter had laid hands on you more than a dozen times before, but last night had been the worse.

The tremble starts somewhere deep down inside of you, you can feel it vibrate through your core as you bend down and pick up the picture of your niece and nephew from the floor. The glass is fractured, the frame snapped under the weight of your ex-husband’s boot, the same one that stomped down on your ribs as you lay on the floor struggling for breath. You set it down on the sideboard, propping it up against the wall before you lower yourself down into the cosy chair gingerly.

Chibs watches from the kitchen, his palms resting on the breakfast bar. He’s already flicked on the kettle, set a mug out with a teabag inside of it, Lady Grey because there’s something you find soothing about the flavour. He expects you to crumble, to break down and weep underneath the weight of what you’ve done but instead you light another cigarette and stare at the stain on ruined couch.

“I thought I’d feel guilty.” You say quietly into the space between you. “I thought I’d feel horror, or disgust but I just feel relief, is that normal?”

He’s under no illusions about why you’re asking him. You know he’s done some dark shit; you’ve defended him in court over it and you’ve never flinched. The world isn’t perfect, it’s not sunshine and roses, and you know that more than most.

“It depends on why you did it.” He tells you, pouring the hot water into the mug before adding the milk and waiting for the tea to steep. “That wee bastard hurt you, he’s hurt you before, he’d have hurt you again. I’d say relief is about right after everything you’ve been through.”

You take another drag of the cigarette as he brings the tea over before taking up residence on the arm of the chair beside you. It’s a show of solidarity, he wants you to know he’s in your corner. You offer him the smoke, and he takes it from your fingers, putting it between his lips and inhaling deeply.

“We’re gonna have to burn that couch.” You tell him, wrapping your hands around the cup of tea before bringing it to your lips.

“Aye.” He agrees, blowing a smoke ring out of his mouth and watching it disappear into the air. “I’ll get Juice and one of the prospects to do it.”

“Filip, I don’t want anyone else to know.”

“They already think I killed him.” Chibs informs you, tapping the ash off into the silver ashtray he’s picked up off the floor and set alongside one of your coasters. “We need to let them keep thinking that. I won’t let anyone have that leverage over you.”

“I can’t let you do that…”

“You bloody well can.”

He inclines his head towards you, his dark eyes fierce. You see the resolve in them, the determination and you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Look darlin’, this isn’t up for discussion.” He tells you firmly. “I’m going to help you take care of this mess and the two of us are going to find a way to muddle through it. No one else needs to know that you were involved. Trust me it’ll be easier for the both of us.”

“You think if Jax or Clay found out they’d find a way to use it against me,” You summarise, bringing the mug to your lips once more, inhaling that soothing floral fragrance of the tea before you take another sip.

“If they felt like they needed to.” He tells you before stubbing the cigarette out. “And the way things are at the moment…”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t want to hedge my bets.”

“Shit I’m sorry Filip.” You tell him, cradling the mug to your chest. “I didn’t want you involved.”

His palm comes to rest on your shoulder, his thumb chasing up along the nape of your neck, massaging that tense little spot just underneath your hair line.

“Hey now lassie, it would have ended like this anyway. If you hadn’t done it…”

He trails off because you both know the truth. If he hadn’t stayed with you last night, it wouldn’t have come to this. He would have been the one seeking out your ex and pulling the trigger. All of this would have been taken care of long before you even woke up.

Instead, he’d climbed into bed alongside of you, wrapped you up in his arms and holding you close because you weren’t the only one that needed the comfort. Seeing the damage that son of a bitch had done, knowing how quickly it could have turned, that you could have been the body he was standing over this morning, it terrified him.

“It had to be me.” You say, setting the mug down on the side table with a sigh. “It’s kismet, he’s been gunning for me since I started the proceedings, this was the only way it could end.”

He stares at the destruction around you, the debris of your life. You need to get away for a few days, take the time to heal, get your head straight.

“Stay with me.” He requests, his Scottish lilt soft as his arm wraps around you and draws you close. “Just until we get this mess cleaned up and get you back on your feet.”

“Filip, I can’t ask that…”

“You’re not.” He drawls out the words as he presses forehead against yours. “I’m asking you to do an old man a favour and keep him company for a while.”

There’s a gruffness to his voice. The only time you’ve heard it is in the dead of night when his lips grace your skin, and he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. You can read between the lines, there’s a wealth of things that Filip can never say, that he won’t allow himself to.

“Ok.” You tell him, your fingertips ghosting along the scars that mar his cheeks. “Just give me a couple of minutes to pack my stuff.”

“Aye love,” he whispers, his eyes on yours as his lips brushed over the inside of your wrist. “Gather your things and then I’ll take you home.”

Love Chibs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#chibs telford #chibs imagine #chibs x reader #filip chibs telford x reader #filip chibs telford #filip telford

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nohoney · 9 months

Note

k im in desperate need of tooth rotting comfort in the c&c universe T^T

i just got over a really bad migraine so tooth rotting comfort is definitely the vibe ( = ⩊ = )

“Deep breaths, you’re doing good doll.” Touya murmurs gently, holding you against his chest as he feels your body slowly inflate and deflate as you take slow breaths. He’s stood in his spot in the kitchen for the last five minutes since you returned home, not moving until you were ready to do so.

It’s normal to have some off days where you don’t feel your best, but even a bad case of unexplained anxiety could happen to anyone. Usually you carry yourself well, even through some tougher times, so when you experience the days that you don’t feel able to handle your own emotions, it’s often upsetting for yourself. It partly hurts your pride to feel so weak and it took extra effort in the early days of the relationship to rely on one another during the bad mental health days.

You melt against Touya’s body and the uncomfortable feeling in your gut slowly works it’s way up. It spreads through your body and the sudden weight of finally letting go makes you cry. His arms hold you tighter, the smell of cigarettes is a comfort to you in these times and you just want to hold on tightly to him.

Touya’s not the greatest at comforting words. He’s better at putting his foot down when he needs to and being a little bit snarky when it comes to other people. Most of his comfort is through actions. Tight embraces and small acts of service are what get you through these rough moments. Because you can’t explain why you have anxiety, you can only feel it and let it out.

“C’mon, let’s have a smoke.”

You nod against him, wiping away your tears and following behind wordlessly.

One cigarette to share.

The two of you stand outside the balcony together, Touya holding you from behind and waiting for his turn for whenever you pass the smoke back to him. The nicotine is comforting and he likes the way the smell melds with your floral perfume.

The butt of it is stubbed out in the ashtray and he heads back inside with you.

Whenever you have these off days, you’re clingier than usual. You hang onto Touya like a sloth whether it be in the shower or when he’s stirring ramen in a pot for a lazy dinner. And when he needs to step away, you’re hugging your favorite plushie that he bought for you on your six month anniversary. Touya texts his friends to let them know that he might potentially cancel on their next day plans depending on if you’ve shaken off your bad feelings or not.

“Touya…” you come up to his side with your plushie held in your arms. “Hey…”

“Yeah? What is it doll?” He asks as he washes his hands after stepping out to smoke, “Dessert?”

Something sweet to hopefully lift your mood a little which is a typical want when you have your down days. There’s a batch of cookie dough he could pop into oven or the bag of mini candies that you and him eat slowly over time.

“Ice cream?” You ask him in such a small voice almost like you’re a little girl.

“Sure, let’s go. Which one do you want?” He asks you, thinking if the gas station nearby has anything you’d want right now.

There’s a bit of hesitance from your end before you tell him, “I want the other one. Where they make it into a rose shape.”

Ah, the fancy one.

Touya makes the drive for you, his hand on your knee as you still hold your plushie tight against you. He offers to go alone so you can stay in the car and be comfortable but you want to cling to him. He orders at the little kiosk and taps his phone to make the payment, waiting patiently with you hugging him tightly. Ice cream is formed in the shape of a rose and given to you in a little cup. It’s a simple thing that manages to bring a smile to your face, the first one you’ve had since you had returned home.

Unfortunately the anxiety doesn’t subside the next day, it’s still lingering and it keeps you rooted in bed beyond the time that you should be up. He offers to stay in bed with you, but you want some space this time. Touya tells you that he’ll give you an extra hour to stay in but after that, you are going to get up.

He sits on the edge of the bed waiting for you to muster the energy to get up. He watches you take a deep breath in and then exhale out. It’s difficult to see you struggle but he softly encourages you to stand on your feet, to make it to the restroom and wash your face. A very simple goal to reach that feels impossible in that moment. But he’s with you every step of the way as you leave the bed, shuffle your feet to the bathroom, standing beside you with a face towel ready, and then he’s hugging you as a reward.

It sucks to have these kinds of days where you just don’t feel yourself but Touya is with you to help make it easier.

#definitely was having a bit of a mental health funk so this asked really helped clear up my mind too #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi fluff

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irondiotallica · 10 days

Text

Magpie

Man, I forgot how much I actually like to write. Here's a little blurb because I am on a roll. I might write more later, who knows? I'm feeling a bit creative today. I hope you enjoy this little blurb. -Silas

[Steddie]

Steve looked at the eclectic, overflowing arrangements of knickknacks and collections. It was overwhelming in one of the best ways possible. For as long as he could remember he was surrounded by blank, beige, boring interiors and horrific floral wallpaper. Yet, here he stood surrounded by loud, lived-in, and utterly comforting chaos.

Brick walls were mixed with pops of burgundy and black. The sofa was loved and worn; already having been used before it made its home here. The hand-crafted coffee table was lovingly covered with metal magazines, ashtrays, lighters, and law cases that served as precedent. A pair of reading glasses lay next to a copy of The Hobbit. VHS tapes lined the walls with Top Gun front and center.

Swimming medals were lovingly hung on the wall and Steve grinned. He hadn’t hung them up and was still struck with love at the precision it took to make the frames as ornate as they were. Metal posters signed by different bands hung on the wall as well, framed with less precision and finesse, but solid enough. Steve wasn’t the best at using power tools for more than surprisingly effective improvised weapons. Besides, he had waited the hours it took to get the signatures.

Steve felt his eyes water a little at the space before he shook his head a little and wiped the tears before they could fall. He was happy. He sat back down at the thrifted table and mismatched chairs that accompanied it continuing the work he had started. His hands remained steady as he used the small, thin brush to paint the features on the little figures. They were figures of monsters that he didn’t know the name of, but he could follow the way they looked in the books surrounding him. He took a break from the monsters to work on another little figure. He grinned as he painted the little fangs white before adding the appropriate shading. He heard the front door open and a voice call out in a joking tone.

“Oh honey, I’m home.”

Steve turned to the voice, making sure to hide the vampire figure before trodding to the kitchen to plant a kiss on the curly-haired man. He kissed Eddie with fervor before reluctantly pulling away. He couldn’t get too carried away, they were having dinner with the group later today. Eddie pouted at the loss of plush lips against his own, but he grinned as Steve’s chuckle filled his ears. Steve planted a kiss on the tip of Eddie’s nose before dragging him to the couch.

“How was your day, Eds?”

Eddie fidgeted with Steve’s hands and grinned.

“It was good,” he answered, smirking as he continued,” even better now that I'm here with you.”

Steve flushed and knocked Eddie slightly with his shoulder.

“Oh hush you.”

Steve gave Eddie one more kiss. He grabbed his waist as Eddie’s fingers tangled in his hair and around his neck.

Steve was more than glad to be living with Eddie in this Chicago apartment than in that big house back in Hawkins, alone, with sterile loneliness polluting the air.

#steddie #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #blurb #fluff #im bored

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slimeranch7 · 7 months

Note

I find out that triads(Chinese mafia) have originally came from clans that opposed the local government and wanted to throw it away. So they operated secretly. Imagine triad member darling who is the personal maid of Ningguang, close one at that, who is torn apart between her and her clan. Like she likes Ningguang but her people are also personal so there’s that. And cunning and smart Ningguang who is aware of darlings occupation but she’s playing mouse and cat with her, waiting when she’ll realise all of that is losing game.

Content warnings: light Nsfw, murder/graphic ish violence

The metal sits heavy in your hands. Solid. Cold. Nothing you’ve never experienced in your life. It’s not that you haven't held a gun before.

The parts are detailed and ornate, oiled perfectly, sliding back to reveal a single golden bullet in the chamber winking back. Your stomach drops. You already know who it’s for.

The weight on your heart was for the man laying on the floor, squirming, whimpering, begging even when his tongue was gouged out and he bled all over Ningguang’s perfect wooden finish, seeping into the carpet.

You prayed for him. His daughter, who had gone off to study abroad in America last year. His son, who had won his first martial arts tournament just a few months ago. His loving wife, likely at home and waiting to have dinner with him given the hour, who worked as a nurse at the local hospital, seventh floor.

His identification was nowhere to be found. You assumed it was ripped off of his person when he was apprehended and tortured for intel.

Your boss’ voice was low and sultry as she leaned into your ear. “Have you ever killed, dear?”

You didn’t trust your voice not to waver, only nodding along as she continued. “Trust is important. It branches from respect, which, as you should know by now, makes up the backbone of this family. And I founded this family. Are you following?”

“Yes, my lady.” You verbalize, afraid to test her patience any further. She blows an intoxicating puff of opioid, scented and floral, then tapped the excess into a gilded ashtray off on the side.

"Right now, you are a drifter." A clawed finger glides over where you once clipped your badge. "Drifters, in my eyes, are untrustworthy. They have no apparent loyalty in which they pledge by. They belong to no one."

She could certainly feel the tremors that tore through you. Your back was cold yet sweaty. Denial, fear, regret, all builds up into a terrible mental backlog. You couldn't weigh the consequences cohesively, instead everything ran itself into pointless circles. You didn't even know where to start.

Ningguang helpfully steadies your hand, guiding your index over the trigger. The iron sights locked onto the man on the floor. Then she parts with a shallow kiss on your jaw, leaving behind a rose red lipstick stain. A promise for what's to come, should you pass her final test without error.

You had the barrel pointed directly between the trembling man's eyes. Tears blurred your vision. He wasn't no one. His family's grief would be by your own hands. They would wonder how he went missing. And your own existence outside of Ningguang's organization would cease to exist as long as his heart stopped beating.

For a moment, you contemplated on turning the barrel to your own throat. But by some tragic miracle, your own mind conjured up a thousand more reasons not to taunt death this way. Fear paralyzes you like a deadly snare.

"Still yourself, girl. Relax. Show me who you belong to." What other choice was there?

The motion of the pistol was the same as any other time you fired at a range or on field. The recoil kicked back hard, but you kept your shoulders and hips squared.

The ringing that lingered in your ears silenced all else. You could feel the sobs choke out of your throat as the adrenaline began to filter itself out of your system. Ningguang wastes no time in ravaging your body, closing in as soon as the gun clattered against the floor.

In all the years you've served under her, she has not once eyed you so hungrily as she did now. Instead she treated you like a cheap toy, feigning disinterest as she either mercilessly rode your tongue or fucked your throat until it was raw and aching. The more you choked and sputtered, the more her smirk would curl in satisfaction.

The better you were at your job, the more harshly you were punished. With chains or fire, it didn't matter. Only the marks that scarred your body did.

It was a test of loyalty, you eventually pieced together.

You ought to feel ashamed for enjoying her undivided attention so thoroughly. For all the times she left your pussy aching with need for you to tend to yourself, she makes it up by graciously offering up her thighs, letting you shamelessly grind as she pulled you into a frenzied kiss.

"You gave nothing away when you crawled beneath my foot for the first time," She gasped when she pulled back for air. "You weaseled yourself beneath my network and offered yourself like a virgin sacrifice. You were a perfect actor."

Her words sounded distant and muffled by the adrenaline. Palpitations in your heart began to ache terribly. Your only words only varied between different attempts at apology to no one in particular. Maybe God, if you were hoping for salvation.

A tear slips past your lashes, to which Ningguang catches with her lips as she peppers chaste kisses all over your face. You cried out when she gave your nipples a tight pinch through the sheer shirt she let you wear. The first time she had given anything below your neck any semblance of attention. It hurt, but sent pleasurable shockwaves down your stomach. "I thought it was too good to be true." She moved down, apologetically kissing the scars left by years of systematic torture. "Believe me, darling. They all break, one way or another."

And you broke, like any other. Not in ways that would have gotten you killed.

But in a way that sealed your own fate when your heart fluttered as she fucked your face. When your lungs seized itself in anticipation as you watched her brandish her prized leather crop. You should be ashamed of what you've become. But it's hard not to when you've rebuilt yourself up to love her warmth and her punishments.

Her pace is immediately brutal. You could feel your virgin pussy give and give as her fingers parted your walls, twisting and curling in hopes to find a spot that makes you see white. Her palms meet your swollen clit repeatedly, so much that it's burning and painful. You make an attempt to allow yourself some respite by reaching for her wrist, but her teeth graze your jaw like a warning.

No touching. You will submit your physical body wholly to her, just as you have surrendered your mind.

You will abandon your identity as a citizen and a registered officer. And you will become a nameless pet for her to love and to fuck. You will descend into the depths of mania, and you will rut against her shoes like a desperate whore if only to entertain your new master.

Every drop of squirt she wrings out of you would then be licked off the floor, and you'd be mindlessly happy to do so.

Never mind the ever expanding pool of blood below you, or the empty pistol laying off on the side. Your new place is under your master, who has taken her time in guiding you to become her perfect little girl.

#dead dove do not eat #genshin impact smut #ningguang x reader

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dwedgecreations · 1 year

Photo

#etsy shop:Ashtrays Stacking Ceramic #art #cincodemayo #ashtrays #cigarashtray #stackingashtrays #ashtray #midcentury #ashtrayset #miniashtrays #coindish #barware #party #dwedgecreations #artdeco #artware #artwork #floral #fathersday #porcelain #beautiful #fashion #love #ceramic #gift #dwedgecreations.etsy.com https://etsy.me/3Ywkd2e https://www.instagram.com/p/CoYnaC1skTQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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whiskey-bumblebee · 1 year

Text

what if it was just a thursday?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1059

The plates are in the dishwasher, the oven is cooling down, and a fire is crackling away in the fireplace, radiating heat throughout the house. Your bare feet sink into the plush Oushak rug, and you relish the soft feeling of it. There are two mugs on the coffee table; your favourite and Hotch's favourite. Yours is a vintage one, something from the 70s with an orange floral pattern, kitsch but cute. Aaron's is utilitarian, a handmade brown mug with a little bit of texture. You vaguely remembered buying it at a farmer's market a few years ago, with a matching ashtray and spice canister.

You'd spent the afternoon gardening: sowing some poppy seeds along the treeline, planting broccoli and potatoes in the hopes that you could harvest them in the spring. Asparagus was Aaron's favourite, but someone at the plant barn had told you it might take two or three years to mature. You were sure that you'd forget about it if it was in the ground for that long.

"What's on your mind?" Aaron said softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Asparagus," You said dreamily. "I was thinking of growing some, but it takes forever."

"How was your day?" He asked. "Aside from the gardening."

"It was okay. I wish the weather was nicer," You sighed. "But no complaints. Things aren't too busy at work, which is good."

You reach slightly to intertwine your fingers with his, resting your hands over your shoulder. A contented smile comes over your face and you close your eyes to soak in the moment.

"How was yours?" You look over at him, and his heart sinks. There's an innocence in your eyes that's long since left his own. It's one of the things he loves about you, but it's something he's terrified might disappear.

"Do you really want to know?"

You nod. "I can take it."

He rests the side of his head against your own.

"JJ has been swamped, so we all pitched in for a few hours to sort through the cases. There were something like two hundred cases that have come over her desk in the past week-" Hotch pauses to sigh, running his fingers over his eyebrows.

"Whatever the Bureau is paying her, it's not enough. A lot of the time they'll include details, autopsy reports, photos. I can't imagine how much of it gets stuck in her head. So many of them are kids, or wives, or someone's father, someone's best friend."

"I'm sorry," You said quietly. "That's really hard."

You feel him shrug, rather than seeing it.

"Makes me really appreciate coming home to you," He murmured. "Makes me wish I could sit here and tell you about selling insurance."

You huff a laugh, and lean further into him. "I love you as you are."

"Yeah," He breathes. "I love you too. I wish it could just be a Thursday. No blood and guts, just a Thursday."

There's a comfortable silence for a few moments, both of you staring at the fireplace, the spontaneous patterns of the flames, occasional puffs of smoke.

You swing a leg over his lap, facing him, and tuck your head into his neck, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. He rests one large hand in the back pocket of your jeans, and wraps his other arm around your back, his hand landing between your shoulderblades, stroking back and forth. Even exhausted, he's protective

"Might fall asleep," He whispers.

"Me too," You reply, your warm exhale momentarily lifting the collar of his t-shirt.

"So warm," he mumbles. "I love you."

"We could get a dog," You say quietly. "People who celebrate Thursdays tend to have dogs."

"You think so?"

You press a chaste kiss to his neck. "Yeah."

"How about we start with a cat?"

"Really?" Your voice picks up slightly, and you raise your head to look at Aaron. He smoothes a hand over the back of your head, gently encouraging your face back into the crook of his neck.

"We could go to the shelter this weekend."

You flip through your mental rolodex of the different types of cat, picturing each one in the space you shared with your partner.

Maybe an older cat, already house trained, who liked a quieter house. Someone to keep you company while Aaron was away.

____

Sure enough, you and Aaron fell asleep on the couch, Aaron waking up a few hours later and walking you to bed. The fire had burnt itself out, and the tea had gone cold, but you could leave it until morning.

The weekend rolled around and you walked hand in hand through the animal shelter.

"This one's named Home Depot," He pointed out, a small smile on his face. "Do we want a lady cat or a gentleman cat?"

"I don't mind," You mused, peeking into each enclosure.

"Aaron," You said slowly, pulling gently at his elbow. "This one's named Jude, like Hey Jude."

"Jude's been here a while, since she's one of our older cats. She's a sweetheart," The volunteer offered.

"How old is she?"

"She's seven."

"Can I pick her up?"

The volunteer nodded enthusiastically. "She loves cuddles."

You picked up the cat, happy to find that she seemed to be in good health. A nice weight, plenty of fluff, good teeth.

"Does she have any health conditions?" You asked.

The volunteer shook their head. "Not that we know of. As she gets older, she might get a bit stiff in her joints, but for now she seems well."

"Hi sweetheart," Aaron said softly, thumbing the scruff under her chin. "Do you like the look of us?"

She keened, pressing her head up into his hands to meet his touch.

"She's just like me," You smiled.

"Yeah?" Aaron said, smiling at you. You knew what he was asking, and you nodded.

Aaron looked over at the volunteer. "Can we bring her home?"

They smiled. "Absolutely. You'll just need to sign a few things, pay the adoption fee. Then we can give you a bag of food, her bed, her collar... I think that's it. Oh! We could send you home with a toy, if you like, but she hasn't been super playful while she's been here."

"Thank you," You said tenderly. "So much. For keeping her safe until we could meet her."

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #fanfic #my writing #reader insert #aaron hotchner/reader

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willwood-lyrics · 8 months

Text

You settle into a new mind

In a Philippine tub ring paradise of a queen Size suite of a window micro telecon A lodge red roof in nights in super Eight whatever else outside Richmond Virginia I curled up an old Showtime softcore porno and Flipped through my phone for a few hours Picked up a bag of Swedish Fish and a Fistful of chocolate covered cherries And a pack Of Marlboro next for three dollars and ninety Cents the bodega by the waffle house I spun my eyes over the Beautiful floral arrangements blooming And tessellating in the stucco on the walls Anything I figured to keep my mind off those Goosebumps that were rising and squeaking and Cracking and quacking and threatening Anaphylaxis and asphyxiation with Every sharp inhale that I took with the Thread of Stevens-Johnson Syndrome behind My flesh and I watched as my skin crawled upwards To form a flesh noose to hang me from The rafters of that place I had found Myself in and I watched as my epidermis took On the shape of whatever I feared The most in that moment and I sat there Down in that fly trap ashtray contemplating My next move and weighing out the pros And cons of every last rotten pulse! It was either Wilmington North Carolina Or the nearest hospital!

#will wood #will wood lyrics #will wood and the tapeworms lyrics #will wood and the tapeworms #the real will wood #blackboxwarrant #this is actually the one off of the real will wood oh my god you guys #that's four versions of this interlude thing now

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hausofmamadas · 7 months

Text

| Tu cómplice |

⁂

Pairing: Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada x Benjamín Arellano Félix

For @narcosfandomdiscord NarcOctober Fanworks collection [October 1 - Day of Firsts]

Word count: ≈ 2.8K

TWs: Canon-consistent violence? Much angst but like in the supes casual way I imagine Mayo does..?

Just the two of them seated at the wrought iron table in the backyard, up till dawn, smoking and talking. It felt quite the honor just to see the man laugh. Ngl guys, this is Basically just Mayo internally but actively pining for Mín? for like kinda no reason?? while he’s negotiating with Dina because Mín’s gone into hiding after the assassination of Cardinal Juan Posadas Ocampo. Idk this is literally just 3k words of nonsense and insanity. It’s legitimately one of the most aimless and ooc things I’ve ever written sksks but hey!! it exists now..?

⁂

The ornate, gilded door knocker felt heavy between his fingertips as he rapped a few times and waited, stubbing out his cigarette in the open mouth of one of the lion statues placed on either side of the stairway. He chuckled to himself. If it wasn’t an ashtray before, it was one now. To him it looked like one anyway. The mansion’s pretentious decor always screamed “New Money” to him, no matter how hard the Arellanos tried to bury Sinaloa in their past.

By his count, Mayo had only ever been to Arellano house three times. Once by invitation, another by accident, and a third - the last - by mistake. A mistake he couldn’t muster the good sense to regret no matter how hard he tried.

It never pays to fall for a family man, isn’t that what the girls say? Certainly the ones he’d shared a few fleeting nights with between the sheets, a wad of folded bills on the nightstand, couple packs of cigarettes, and some pillow talk that always told some tale of woe about falling for a family man. But is that what happened? Had he fallen? Or was he just at sea like always? Either way, it made for no less than an interesting ride.

The relief-distorted disappointment when it was Pancho who answered the door should’ve told him something, even if he didn’t care to pay it much mind just now. A matter for tomorrow. Except that’s what he’d told himself the whole time. Shit, that’s how he got into this mess. Surely there’d come a point when tomorrow was today, no?

Pancho smiled, “Qué húbole, compa?” and pulled Mayo in, clapping his back twice in a way that was warm and sincere as much as it was overwhelming. But Pancho was good people. He always liked Pancho. Shit, who didn’t like Pancho.

“Nada mucho, nada más,” Mayo winked, tipping his hat as he crossed the threshold into the foyer of the Arellano mansion.

He smirked to himself at the same private joke he had every time he’d set foot in this house: the place’s grandiosity might be as intimidating as it was meant to be if it weren’t so fucking cartoonish. But he supposed that’s what happened when you let an overgrown manchild, dressed head-to-toe in Versace, stick his gold-dipped cuerno de chiva against the decorator’s temple and threaten to blow them away into semi-automatic oblivion, just for a discount on silk drapes from Rome or wherever-the-fuck.

Mayo's eyes stung a bit, hit with the phantom smell of the cigar smoke that came tumbling out of Benjamín’s mouth when he’d laughed himself nearly to tears telling Mayo that story. It'd been just the two of them seated at the wrought iron table in the backyard, up 'til dawn, smoking and talking. It felt quite the honor just to see the man laugh. He got the feeling Mín didn’t laugh much. That was the second time Mayo had been here.

He shook his head, the image etch-A-sketched away like nothing and followed Pancho through the foyer to the dining room and then the living room. Or rather, one of the living rooms. The house smelled so strongly of floral-scented candles and potpourri, he worried he might get a headache sitting in here for too long. They must’ve just had the place cleaned. It bothered him that he even noticed and it especially bothered him why. That it was because there was no hint of that familiar, faint musk that should’ve been there, expensive without trying too hard, that seemed to trail Mín along with a perpetual cloud of neurotic discontent, everywhere he went.

Even from the beginning Mayo liked that about him. The discontent he wore right on his sleeve. He’d noted it when they’d first met at some meat market in Mazátlan, right around the time he first linked up with the Sinaloa crew, just before they arrested Miguel and the whole Federation got dissolved. Just in Mín's discontent, his raw, kinetic ambition, Mayo saw something of himself, even if the two fo them strove for very different things. He used to think, what a strange little something you are, Benjamín Arellano Félix, the way one would think fondly of a pet they had growing up. He found himself wishing now that Mín felt just a pet to him.

But they belonged to each other in a new way now. Darker, tenuous, and confounding in just exactly how straightforward it was. No implications, no questions to be asked. It said nothing about either of them except that they belonged, if only for and evening. Or the amount of time it takes to smoke a full Montecristo and down a stiff drink of scotch.

He turned to the fish tank and stared at his warped reflection, saying to no one in particular, “Things are changing real fast, huh? The army in Tijuana fucking shit up. Coming after your family, no less. Now Benjamín’s gone. Fucking mess, huh?”

He felt it coming. This meeting. Depending on the outcome, it might signify a breaking point and he’d have to choose between what is and what should never be. The Arellanos got caught flying far too close to the sun and they knew it now. (And everyone wondered why he preferred boats.) It’s what set Mín on the lam, no telling how long he would be out there. Floating around wherever he was. Away.

Shaking his head, “Just hoping it all blows over and Benjamín can come back home,” Pancho spilled a glass of some brown liquor, as he set it down on the beverage cart in front of Mayo.

Amused, Mayo tried mopping it with only his fingers until he gave up, taking a sip. There was still plenty to drink, since Pancho had filled it nearly to the brim, almost as high as his own. Suddenly, it made sense why Pancho wasn’t in charge of the family business despite being the oldest. Hombre couldn’t bluff for shit.

Mayo took the seat by the beverage cart, as Pancho practically melted back onto the giant couch across from him. Doing his best to affect it, almost like an afterthought, Mayo leaned back in the chair and said, “Send him my best, yeah?” He took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pockets, giving them a little jiggle and raising his eyebrows.

Pancho got what he was asking but Dina startled him with an answer before Pancho got the chance. She spoke from behind them, standing at a large window, “Of course, please. Make yourself at home.” She waved her own lit cigarette as if to hammer the point home. “I do it in here all the time. Drives mamá mad. The smell gets in the drapes, she says.”

How long had she been standing there? Her beige suit blended so well with the drapes she spoke about with such indifference. Mayo half wondered if it was some kind of business tactic, camouflaging with the furniture. Better to hear all chisme whispered in these halls by house staff or other scheming subordinates a quien no le gustaba tener una jefa. In truth, he didn’t much like it either. But he hadn’t figured out if it was just because she was a woman or because of the kind of woman she was. He never had much patience for anyone with a chip on their shoulder.

Though he’d certainly made an exception for Mín who’d carted around a chip so heavy, it was a wonder he never tipped over. So, maybe it was the woman thing. Did it much matter? Not really cuando sabía que ella había planeado quitarle sus huevos. All these months later, and that cool twenty mil still burned a hole in their coffers and there was no making eyes at Dina to make it all go away, least of all when they were hurting for the cash. Not that he wouldn’t try. That is after all how he and Benjamín started off doing ... Well, whatever the fuck they did.

He thought of Dina’s wedding, how light and alive, self-assured Benjamín was. In his element. A new look he wore so well that, in Mayo’s estimation, he didn’t get to enjoy for long enough. Now look where they all were.

“So look, Pancho,” he brushed Dina off because if her goal was to blend in with it, well, he was happy to treat her like the furniture. “Amado’s expanded operations. Taken over the port in Peñasco, made it hard for my boats to unload. I was hoping to redirect them through San Ysidro, and not pass them through Tijuana.”

“That would put all your business in our plaza, wouldn’t it?”

The smirk of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar broke across Mayo's face and he dragged on his cigarette, nodding in the affirmative.

“And yet, you refuse to join our organization?”

He offered the answer that seemed to satisfy anyone who challenged his go-it-alone approach. It satisfied Mín well enough when he'd approached Mayo at the wedding. “Es qué, a mí me gusta ser mi propio patrón.”

Nothing less than the truth. In an industry of professional con artists, backstabbers, hustlers, and murderers, maybe like her brother, she’d appreciate it.

“Yes, so you’ve said.” She didn’t.

And she still hadn’t turned around to face them. For people so concerned with blending into high society, the Arellanos weren’t the most well-mannered. Mayo’s working-class manner of dress might, to the untrained eye, indicate that manners weren’t something he cared about. But he did. Even in his blackest moments, twisting his knife in someone’s gut or getting ready to light them on fire, he couldn’t much find a reason not to be at least cordial.

Fighting for a lifeline, he glanced at Pancho who almost looked like he was trying to become one with the couch, drink limp in his hand, as he stared at the All-Knowing Queen in white.

She finally turned to grace them with her full attention, gliding over and resting her hands on the back of the empty couch next to him. “You owe us twenty million dollars. What’s your plan to repay us?”

Back in the days when Miguel held court and favored the Sinaloa faction at the expense of his own family, dicking the Arellanos around as though the petulant kids he’d watched grow up would remain petulant kids forever, Mayo remembered thinking that Mín’s attempts at diplomacy weren’t well-earned by their uncle. And he’d told Mín as much. Even Dina agreed at the time.

But all these years later, with Dina the sharp tip of the lethal spear that was now the Arellano Félix Organization, Mayo wondered if they couldn’t do with some of Benjamín’s trademark diplomacy. Mín liked people. He knew how to talk to them. Dina was trickier to deal with. Though savvy like her brother, she was nothing but prickly, sharp edges. Good for dealing what needed to be dealt to their enemies. Not much for making friends.

Mayo tried his hand at diplomacy, “Money in shrimping, eh … moves slower than I’d like,” but ire crept in anyway when the absence of his— his— of Benjamín was screaming at him. “Benjamín understands that. I pay as it comes.”

Understands, yes. Present tense. He was gone, not dead and even with Dina in charge, he still must’ve been keeping tabs from somewhere. She couldn’t have the final word here. Not really.

Unwilling to follow his lead in diplomacy, she shot back. “How much have you got?”

“Here with me?” Now he was annoyed.

And that was met with a haughty huff from her, along with a scorn-filled smirk, so acrid and bitter he nearly tasted it in the air between them. She had him where she wanted him and it twisted his gut, knowing where this was about to go.

“You aren’t moving anything through this plaza until the tax is paid.”

It was over already and he knew it. That didn’t stop him from trying one final time, “Qué dice, Pancho? Esa es la última palabra de la familia?” like it might speak Benjamín into their living room.

Of course, when it didn’t work, the thought of Mín, knowing what he’d have to resort to next, only served to make his stomach churn more. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. What’s that thing they say about purple elephants? Because before the first don’t, the image of Benjamín’s gentle brown eyes in the moonlit backyard, full of that kinetic ambition, not for success but for something else —belonging— flooded Mayo. The third time he’d been here.

᪣

It had only been a few months since the wedding. A celebration at Roxanne’s gone awry and he’d had to bring Ramón home before he tore the club apart, going after Chapo for some snide comment about what they all knew happened to Rayo. The bad blood between the Arellanos and the Sinaloa crew was so long standing without erupting into an all-out war, it seemed to make sense at the time to at least attempt to avoid tipping it over the edge. In hindsight, the whole shitshow was gripped with such inevitability, it seemed more like going against the will of the gods, now that he thought about it. But you only know what you know when you know it. So, he done the sensible thing, intervened before things got ugly, agreeing against his better judgment to remove Ramón from the equation, by driving the rowdy motherfucker home while he sat in the passenger's seat of his pickup, three sheets to the wind, sprawled out, passed out, and snoring. Despite the fact he’d had no love para el pinshe huevón, there was love in his heart somewhere. And so it was easy to say, “yes” after shucking Ramón off his shoulder onto one of their house staff's, when Mín offered him a cigar and a drink. An opportunity for another of their little chats that they’d come to enjoy whenever they crossed paths. Though Mayo had noticed, in the distinct lack of one, every one of those times happened to be under the unconscious supervision of a crowd. So that when Benjamín complimented him on his business savvy, and said things like, “Fuck, man. You’re better than that,” the grin that spread across his face never got as wide as it wanted to be. They never stood as close as they’d wanted to. They never talked for as long as they wanted to. It was for the best. Because without the safety net of nosy onlookers, talking about life, growing up in Sinaloa, the incessant hustle, the never ending grind to the top, commiserating over the absurdity of this business they’d both come up in, ambition, what all of it even meant? Could they do something else? Should they do something else? Was it really worth it?— they both folded like a pair of cheap suits. And so he didn’t remove it, when Mín’s hand found itself on top of his. The contrast of how smooth, almost manicured it was compared his own, weather-worn, brought to light disparities that extended far beyond the physical and yet didn’t make a bit of difference. The words tumbled from Mín’s lips suddenly. “You know ... I do love my wife.” And that trademark cloud of anxiety that made him think too much came swept over them with a fury. Not long for this world, Mayo waved it away. “I know you do.” “You do?” It was almost funny. Despite the evident affinity they shared in these little chats, Mín’s shock reminded him just how little they really knew each other. How much of a gamble he’d just taken. “You know that I know that this,” Mayo lifted their hands, fingers interlaced together, and placed his lips against one of Mín’s knuckles, “and that,” then bobbed his head toward the house, “can be different but true, at the same time.”

᪣

He sighed and swallowed the memory hard.

“‘Ta bueno, ‘ta bueno,” nodding vigorously because he saw the whole fucking thing coming before he’d set foot in the house. Standing up and putting his hat back on, he muttered cooly, “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time.”

Striding toward the fish tank, he thought of Mín again and turned back around. He met Dina’s eyes in a challenge, you did this but simply tipped his hat, “Patrona,” a gesture of faux respect she was undoubtedly smart enough and petty enough to see for what it was.

On his way out of the house, he was already hard at work, scouring his brain. What was the last number that he had for Amado? Fuck, that shit was months ago. He'd probably have a new one. Oh, well. It'd be worth it. Or ... would it? Well frankly, if he was really honest with himself, he'd probably stopped giving a shit the second the words, "make yourself at home" came out of her mouth.

Stepping out into the midday sun at the top of the steps leading down to the driveway, he caught the carcass of his cigarette laying in the lion's mouth out of the corner of his eye.

Dina would regret this and probably never even know why.

But Benjamín would.

En ese mundo de complicidades y traiciones, un día tu mejor enemigo es tu cómplice y al otro se convierte en tu peor enemigo.

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