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harryspet · 1 month

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bambi eyes (6) r.cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, DUBCON, dd/lg, sugar daddy rafe, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression. little editing, barry doing barry things 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

In which your Daddy finally takes you to the country club.

masterlist

You were reading—slowly but surely. You took each sentence of the chapter book word by word, sounding out each syllable until it made sense to you. With a pink highlighter, you marked over every word you didn’t know the meaning of. You’d ask Rafe about those later or spend some time flipping through the dictionary. You flipped around in the cloud of linens you called a bed, attempting to find another comfortable position. You were reading about a girl with cat-like superpowers and the adventures she went on with her pet cats.

Lana had told you about all the stray cats she feeds out by her house and how a lot of them will let her pet them once they’ve been around her long enough. You’ve been doing your absolute best to stay on Rafe’s good side, knowing the next thing you’d ask him was if he’d let you get a cat. You knew there were plenty out there that needed good homes, just like you did at one point.

You didn’t ask him to take you anywhere unless he invited you. And after that lady had that outburst at the grocery store with him, his invites became less frequent. Every week, he took you to ballet practice and straight home. You reminded yourself to be grateful even for that experience since it kept your boredom at bay. When your Daddy called, you came straight away. When he told you to stay in your room, you stayed. When he held your wrist so hard that they bruised, you kept tears from escaping your eyes. When he brought you a present, you thanked him with your words and happily with your mouth.

A knock at your door caused you to sit up straight. You didn’t ever need to respond with “come in,” as the knock was just a warning that he was coming in, not a request. Rafe eyed you, the crinkles in his eyes letting you know he needed sleep before he looked down at his expensive gold watch. “If I’m not mistaken, I was invited to a one-o’clock tea party and lunch, and my host has yet to retrieve me.”

You palmed your face, your cheeks heating up. “I lost track of time, sorry.” You closed your book, stood, and straightened out your short gingham dress, “Everything should be ready though. Bunny is dressed. I just need help carrying all the guests.”

Before you could leave your book on the bed, Rafe said, “Bring it. I want you to read me somethin’.”

You agreed although the idea made you nervous. You grabbed Bunny, who was dressed in a matching gingham outfit, and then directed Rafe over to your mountain of stuffed animals. Impressively, he grabbed the six stuffed animals in one fell swoop, “Got ‘em, let’s go.”

Now that it was starting to get nicer outside, Lana suggested turning your tea parties into picnics on the front lawn. She’d laid out a floral linen sheet and placed a beautiful flower centerpiece in the middle, along with a wicker basket. You took your stuffed animals one by one from Rafe’s hand, placing them perfectly along the edge of the sheet, “And you sit here, Daddy,” You directed him and waited for him to get comfortable, “I’ll go get the sweet tea and finger sandwiches!”

“Don’t run!” Rafe shouted after you as you hurried back into Tannyhill. As soon as you were out of his line of sight, you picked up your speed, looking to find Lana.

You found Lana in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the array of desserts, “These look beautiful, Lana!” You exclaimed as she finished piping pink icing onto the cupcakes. You opened the fridge to grab the pitcher of sweet tea. “Did you make sure to add extra lemons? He really likes extra lemons-“

“Yes, I did, I know,” Lana responded, “Don’t be so worried, it’s just Rafe.”

You set the pitcher on the counter, taking a deep breath, “He wants to hear me read my book, Lana.”

“So? You’ve been doing so well in our lessons! You sound great to me when you’re reading and you’re only going to get better. The long, fancy words will come later,” She lifted the tray of sandwiches and desserts and you took it into your hands, “You’re a smart girl.”

“I am?” Lana smiled warmly, making sure you were carefully holding both the pitcher and tray.

“Yes, you are,” She assured you, “Go enjoy your lunch. Afterward, you’ll help me with the laundry, right?”

You beamed back at her, “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

When you made your way back to the front lawn, Rafe was where you left him but his phone was pressed to his ear. As soon as he saw you, he said, “---Everyone has dirt. Everyone has a weakness. Find it. I gotta go, I really don’t want to hear about this shit again.” You carefully set down the tray and pitcher, Rafe having intense conversations over the phone having become very natural to you.

Rafe let out an annoyed breath, setting his phone down, “Doesn’t it look delicious, Daddy?” You asked, cutting through the tension.

Rafe nodded, “It does. This is the highlight of my day,” He admitted, “You’re the highlight of my day, Bambi.”

Your nervousness slowly turned into eagerness as Rafe looked at you. He always looked at you like you were something precious, even if you felt the opposite, and you found that you could easily be yourself around him. Although it seemed you were figuring out who you were every day that you were at Tannyhill.

You poured Rafe’s drink into an antique-looking glass, one that Lana had entrusted you with taking care of, “Made just how you like it,” You handed it to him and promptly began to hand out the rest of the dishware, making sure Bunny and your stuffed animals had tiny replicas of them. With small tongs, you carefully placed sandwiches on your and Rafe’s plates, “I like pickles now. They aren’t so bad.”

“Oh, thank God,” Rafe responded with his mouth full, already halfway through his first sandwich, “I was really worried there for a second.”

You giggled, “You were worried?”

“I was as soon as you tried one and said you didn’t like it,” Rafe said, which made you laugh more, “This just confirms you’re perfect. And open-minded. And beautiful.”

“Me liking pickles means that I’m beautiful.” You were trying to follow his logic, your cheeks heated in embarrassment, but he interrupted you with a messy kiss.

As you finished up lunch, you found yourself entangled with Rafe, your legs over his lap and leaning against his chest as you opened up your book. You hoped starting with chapter one would make it easier, knowing you’d read it at least five times this morning. Luckily, you now had someone who could tell you the meaning of the words you had the most trouble with. Rafe used the strategy of not only defining the word but using it in an example sentence.

“Ill-u-min-ate.”

“Every time you walk into a room, you illuminate it with your beauty.”

“Haz-ar-dous.”

“It would be very hazardous to get between me and my Bambi.”

“Fuh-ruh-strat-ed.”

“Seeing you naked gets me extremely frustrated.”

“I thought you said it meant to angry,” You countered, and you could feel him grinning.

“Words can mean different things,” He spoke cryptically, “Hey, you know, I’m really impressed with your reading, Bambi.”

You straightened up and turned to look at him, “You mean it?”

“I’m really proud of you,” he nodded. “I wasn’t sure if Lana could help you all on her own, but I think you’re making good progress.”

You wrapped your arms around him, immediately needing to physically express your satisfaction, your weight effectively toppling the two of you over. Pride was a new feeling that you were getting used to. “Does this mean I could go to a real school? Like in the movies? Maybe law school? Like Elle Woods?” You straddled Rafe, his hands gently exploring the backs of your thighs.

“Are you talking about Legally Blonde?” Rafe’s eyebrows raised, his eyes undoubtedly flashing to a past memory, probably related to his sisters, “Did Lana show you that?”

“It was really good,” You nodded, “How far away is Stanford?”

“Far,” Rafe stated, and you got the feeling he wasn’t explaining as much as he could, “Let’s not — uh, let’s focus on just reading a chapter book. Once you’re reading like Shakespeare and shit, we can talk about college.”

“Okay,” You agreed, pressing your nose to his, “How many books do I have to read before we get a kitty cat, Daddy?”

“I see what you did there,” Rafe stared you down. You gave him a mischievous look as you pressed your lower half closer to his. “I think Daddy’s going to need a lot of convincing on that idea as well.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt Rafe’s fingers trailing over your panties, “What can I do to convince you, Rafey?”

You saw the lust in his eyes. That was one nickname he seemed to like even more than Daddy. “Slide those panties to the side and take Daddy’s cock out.”

“But the guards–” You rushed out, and Rafe’s grip tightened on your thighs.

“You didn’t seem to mind when you climbed on top of me,” Rafe countered, “C’mon, you have to finish what you started, little girl.”

After those words, you tried to ignore the idea of one of Rafe’s men catching a glimpse of what the two of you were doing. You did as Rafe said but as timidly and covertly as possible, sliding your panties to the side and then undoing his zipper. Like Rafe had taught you before, you spit into your hand, rubbing the liquid against your hole and using the rest to lubricate his tip.

You looked Rafe in the eyes before he could command you to, and Rafe gave you the same proud look that he had on his face when he complimented your reading skills. Rafe sat up on his hands, and as you placed him against your entrance, you made sure the skirt of your gingham dress was fully covering your ass. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you slowly enveloped every inch of him.

You whimpered into his ear, already feeling overwhelmed. Your thighs burned as you tried to move up and down his length, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were doing it wrong. You and Rafe didn’t often have sex in this position, and if you did, Rafe would just end up pinning your hips in place and thrusting up into you. In this position, you were almost in complete control, and it made each sensation feel even more heightened.

“Grind into me,” Rafe spoke huskily, “It’ll feel better that way.”

You started to roll your hips against him, and instantly you felt something building within you. With that motion, you could feel your clit rubbing against him. As you controlled the speed and how deep he was inside of you, you adjusted it entirely to your liking, and it surprised you how good you made yourself feel, “You gonna make yourself cum on my cock, Bambi?”

You gave him a shaky nod, “Y-Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Cum for me.”

You whimpered into his ear, suddenly burning up even though you were directly under the sun. “Thank you, thank you,” you muttered breathlessly. “Thank you, Rafey.”

“Look at you,” Rafe said, “My grateful little girl is squeezing me so good. Keep going, baby.”

Rafe squeezed you tightly in his arms like he was hugging you as you felt him fill your insides. “Fuck,” Rafe grunted in your ear, “Didn’t know you were so good at that.”

Rafe was doing something he promised himself he’d never do.

Maybe this would’ve been an option at the beginning of their relationship when he wasn’t so attached. The idea of doing this now … every fiber of his being was telling him that this was wrong. “Everybody has a weakness. You told me that, right? I did some digging. Some super fucking deep digging,” Barry had started.

Atlantic Crest Properties is one of Cameron Development’s biggest rivals both on the island and the mainland. Nathaniel Sterling, the CEO, was one of Ward’s closest friends, but since his death, Rafe had struggled to maintain Nathan’s favor. In fact, he disliked Rafe so much that he was purposely starting to poach Cameron Development’s construction laborers and spreading misinformation about the company’s financial status.

Rafe had worked hard to dig the company out of debt, and Sterling was preventing future investors from giving the company a chance, “There’s this high-end bar on the mainland that he always visits, placed called the Platinum Parlor. This guy is there every weekend, at least. One of my boys tells me that the place is basically a front for a swingers club. They won’t let you in unless you’re a member, and there’s like secret codes you use to, you know, get access to what you’re looking for.”

“Get to the point, please.”

“Basically, he’s a freak. He always asks for a girl named Venus. My boy was telling me this, and I realized I knew that girl; she used to buy from me. I rode over there looking for her before her shift started, and I offered her some powder for some information. She couldn’t tell me everything, but he’s shown her videos of him doing some stuff, and he always asks that she wear pigtails, a plaid skirt, glasses, the whole school-girl look …” Rafe listened as Barry delved further into all the debauchery he’d heard.

“...what are you implying, Barry?”

“I’m trying to say you have the perfect tool to solve yo’ problem. This is the only thing the dude gets off on, and I know his wife ain’t home dressing up for him. You have the most innocent girl in the world, and she actually likes wearing her hair in pigtails.”

“I know you’re not telling me I should let him fuck her–”

“No, no, Rafe! I’m saying that you can let him think that he can for as long as you need him to. That’s your in.”

“Fuck, I don’t wanna do that.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve ever done, country club.”

Barry was right about that.

You liked the way the Kooks dressed, and they all seemed to exude happiness. They matched and coordinated every piece of their outfits, and even the ones playing sports had at least one piece of expensive-looking jewelry on.

Rafe’s black polo and khaki shorts were nicely pressed, and he looked every bit like a seasoned golfer. He also gripped the golf cart’s wheel in one hand, carefully and quickly navigating the expansive green course.

After you made your first stop, Rafe started by showing you the basics of acting as his caddy. He pointed at the clubs he would most likely be using and made you practice grabbing them. He also placed you in charge of keeping up the scorecard, slowly explaining all the numbers you were meant to help keep track of. You quickly learned this was a more complicated game than you imagined, and you weren’t sure how much fun it would actually be to play it.

Still, you were overjoyed that Rafe had even invited you out of the house to the country club, of all places. You spent a total of two hours deciding what to wear that morning until Rafe ultimately made the decision for you, choosing a short-sleeve, collared white dress. He also helped you tame your hair into two high ponytails wrapped in pink bows. As soon as you saw how cute you looked, you made sure to ask Rafe if they made golf dresses in Bunny’s size.

You watched intently as Rafe stepped up to the first tee, positioning his feet and adjusting his grip on the club with practiced ease. With a smooth swing, he sent the ball soaring through the air, landing neatly on the fairway with a satisfying thud.

“Wow,” Your mouth hung open as you watched, “That was amazing, Rafey!”

“You wanna try it?”

Hands behind your back, you nervously stepped closer, “Relax,” Rafe said, “I’m gonna help you.”

The actual golf club was much heavier than you were expecting and probably too tall for you, but Rafe adjusted your position accordingly. You felt him pressed against your back, his strong arms enveloping your frame and his hands wrapped around yours. “You’re always going to start with a tight grip, and then it’s all about your stance.” Rafe placed his leg between yours, kicking your feet apart until they were about shoulder-lengths apart, “Bend your knees for me, sweet girl.”

“This feels … hazardous,” You tried and you felt Rafe’s chest vibrate as he chuckled.

He stepped back from you, “Try bizarre,” You nodded, mouthing the word quietly, but kept your stance, “But you look great. Now, for the backswing. When you swing, you’re going to keep your arms straight and shoulders relaxed, and I want you to turn your upper half until the club is all the way back.”

You tried to follow his list of instructions, but Rafe ended up grabbing ahold of you again to demonstrate the motion, “You’re going to let the club flow naturally through the ball,” He guided you until you were ready to entirely give it a go, “You got this, Bambi.”

You obeyed Rafe’s final instruction and were surprised that you actually hit the ball, although it landed about five feet in front of you. “Look!” you jumped from excitement.

“You did it,” Rafe grinned, “Wanna try again?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice trailed off as another golf cart approached. Instinctively, you closed the gap between you and Rafe.

“Mr. Cameron!” An older gray-haired man, maybe in his 50s, approached, grin hidden partially by a thick mustache, “So lovely of you to grace this fine club with your presence after so many years.”

His deep and commanding voice soon matched his stature as he climbed out of the cart. A shorter, younger man was riding in the passenger side. A gold name tag was pinned to the left side of his chest. “Mr. Sterling,” Rafe greeted back, and you looked up to see a tight, slightly painful grin on his lips. “From what I’ve heard, you frequent this place a little too much. Do they have a reserved parking spot for you yet?”

Mr. Sterling let out a pinched laugh.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

It was then that the tall man made deep, soul-searching eye contact with you, “Bambi, this is Nathaniel Sterling. He owns Atlantic Crest Properties, which operates here on the island. Nathaniel, this is my girlfriend, Bambi.”

Nathaniel reached out a hand, and you officially felt you’d been thrown into the spotlight. You hadn’t interacted with anyone outside of Tannyhill or your ballet class. Rafe nodded slightly, signaling that it was okay to accept his hand. The man’s grip was strong and calloused.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bambi,” He greeted you.

“Hi,” You spoke softly, “You do work like Rafe does?”

“Oh, yes, and much better, sweetheart,” You smiled, believing he was trying to make a joke, “I saw your swing on the way up. With some more practice, I can see you becoming a pretty good player.”

“Really?” Your eyes widened.

“Rafe’s gonna have to get you your own set of clubs,” Nathaniel smirked. “Or maybe you can have my daughter’s since she only uses them sparingly anymore.”

“That would be–” The words came out faster than you could stop them, “That’s a really kind offer, Mr. Sterling.”

You looked up at Rafe, excited by the offer, “I’m sure I can afford a new set,” Rafe stated.

“Anyways,” Mr. Sterling coughed to clear the tension, “If the two of you aren’t too exhausted after your game, you should join me at the Steakhouse for an early dinner. Why waste the opportunity for us to catch up.”

You got a similar feeling to when you were around Barry and Rafe, like the two of them were having a conversation with their eyes. Mr. Sterling seemed intimidating, but you couldn’t deny that you wanted to see more of this place.

“Sound good,” Rafe agreed, which you were grateful for, “We’ll see you there.”

After playing a few more holes and Rafe finishing your crash course on golf, he started showing you around. There were two Olympic-sized pools, a spa, daycare, and gym, and they even offered horse rides along the beach on special occasions. The two of you explored a women’s boutique—well, you explored it while Rafe had a conversation over the phone with Barry. You noticed Mr. Sterling’s name come up a few times but became distracted when you saw the perfect dress.

Although you thought Rafe might say it was too fancy for dinner, Rafe immediately called the attendant over so you could try it on. It was princess style, with short sleeves tied with cream-colored ribbons and a skirt flowing out in three tiers. The attendant helped you into the corset, and you were practically locked in by the time you showed Rafe.

He was already leaning against the payment counter, black card in hand. “We’ll take it; she’s going to wear it out,” he said as you twirled around. “You want anything else?”

“No,” You spoke breathlessly. “This is perfect. Thank you, Rafe!”

Rafe entwined his fingers with yours and held your hand throughout the entire walk to the restaurant. You found Mr. Sterling waiting for you at a table in the corner of the restaurant, with large windows on either side of him that looked out onto the beach. As he waved you over, Rafe leaned down to whisper to you, “You don’t have to say anything or answer any question you don't want to.”

“Okay,” You said softly, knowing he was just looking out for you.

“Rafe, Bambi,” He said as the two of you approached. You took the seat closest to the window after Rafe pulled it open for you, “How was the rest of your game?”

Despite the words he just told you, Rafe looked at you first as if he wanted you to answer, “It was really good,” You replied, trying to maintain a certain level of confidence, “I learned a lot and, uhm, the weather was just really perfect today.”

“I agree, it’s a beautiful day, and let me also say how beautiful you look in your dress, Bambi,” You had to glance away, a reflexive gesture to hide the embarrassed gesture that reached your face. You smiled despite the fact that your face was trembling, “It’s new?”

“Y-Yes, thank you. That’s—" You remembered the menu sitting on the table in front of you, and then you realized you were far too nervous at that moment to try to read it. “Do they have ice cream here?” you blurted out.

Rafe’s lips parted, but Nathaniel interrupted, “I think you’ll be quite happy with the dessert selection. Order whatever you like,” You felt Rafe’s hands suddenly on your thigh. He was trying to hide how tense was, but it wasn’t working.

When the waiter approached, Rafe ordered for you, which you were grateful for: chicken fingers, mac and cheese, and apple juice. He then went ahead and ordered you a dessert called strawberry crunch ice cream cake.

Rafe and Nathaniel bantered for a while about business and things related to Kildare that you didn’t fully understand. For the most part, you focused on enjoying your food and addressing Nathaniel whenever he addressed you. Some of your nervousness washed away because the man seemed to smile and laugh in reaction to every word that you said as if you were the most amusing thing in the world.

Halfway through the dinner, you leaned over to whisper in Rafe’s ear.

“I need to go potty.”

Rafe nodded before pointing across the restaurant where he knew the bathroom was, “It’s over there. Go straight there and come back, please,” Rafe felt you squeeze his hand before you got up from your seat.

Usually, he’d love to watch you walk away, but his eyes were entirely fixed on Nathaniel, who was watching you intently.

“She’s quite … cute,” the man said sincerely, as if he were thinking deeply. “She’s so pure �� hard to believe she was a whore when you found her.”

Rafe squinted, nodding his head, “She was never a whore, Nathaniel.”

“She knows how to fuck, doesn’t she?”

“She comes from unfortunate circumstances, yes, but I’d appreciate it – greatly – if you didn’t call her that,” Rafe tone was sharp as he leaned closer, elbows on the table, “I really want to work something out with you, Nathaniel, but you’re not going to treat me like I’m just Ward’s son. I want something from you, and you want something from me. I’ll respect you if you treat me the same.”

“You’ve grown attached,” Nathaniel seemed to brush off Rafe’s intensity, “I apologize. Really, I’ve spent a short time with her, and I’m already quite enamored. I admire you, Rafe. You’ve trained her quite nicely.”

“She’s a good girl,” Rafe tried to set his emotions aside, and the feelings he had about you that seemed to make him go crazy. He needed to be cold. He needed to be the Rafe who’s able to pull a trigger and not feel any remorse, “She’s under tight lock and key. She’s under my watch, and I know exactly where she is 24/7.”

“Cameras?” Nathaniel’s interest peaked.

“In her playroom,” Rafe shrugged.

“Huh,” The man’s jaw clicked, “I want pictures and videos, at the very least.”

This is what Rafe wanted but he couldn’t help but feel pause. The man in front of him was desperate. He could own Nathaniel with the knowledge he was giving up and the secrets that you could probably draw from in. It was dangerous involving you, but what Barry said was true, you were going to open doors for him.

“At the very least?”

“Yeah, everything after that we can negotiate.”

Rafe could only think for a minute because you were happily skipping back towards the table. Your hands were cradled together, open towards him and holding peppermints, “Look, Rafe, they had a whole bowl of free mints in the bathroom,” You chirped, “I’m going to save some of these for Lana if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s fine.” Rafe smiled at you. “I was just telling Nathaniel about the amazing tea parties you like to throw.”

As you plopped down in your seat, your princess-style dress puffing up and then deflating like a balloon, your eyes widened. “It’s really fun!” you added. “Next time, I want to paint tea-cup handles. You should come, Mr. Sterling. Is that okay?”

The two men exchanged glances before Nathaniel narrowed his eyes back on you, running a hand over his face to smooth down his mustache, “That sounds delightful, sweetheart.”

reblog with a comment letting me know what you think to be added to my tag list!

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction

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r--kt · 22 days

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Do you like Kakashi's dogs? Let's talk about why there are eight of them.

another example of naruto's ✨cultural code✨

contents | the eight dog warriors chronicles · legacy · eight confucian virtues. also look at the cuties love them sm

Naruto Vol. 10 CH 90

[ one dog is wonderful, I'm saying as the owner of a sweet little york terrier. two dogs are good, they won't be bored together. three dogs? yeah, cool! how are you going to walk them though? four? yes... look, maybe we have to draw the line h- wha- EIGHT? Excuse Me!? ]

surely, it's worth starting with the fact that eight is a lucky number in Japanese culture — everybody watched Hachi. of course, this is not the only cultural detail where the eight is mentioned. I want to pay special attention to a thing that I didn't know about until I googled it, and this is clearly what Kishimoto was doing homage to with Kakashi's eight ninken.

The Eight Dog Warriors Chronicles

Better known as Nansō Satomi Hakkenden. and it's not just some kind of book, it's a novel, consisting of 106 booklets written by Kyokutei Bakin in XIX century. Hakkenden is considered the largest novel in the history of Japanese Literature. this is one of the main representatives of the gesaku genre, which includes works of a frivolous, joking, silly nature. further I will emphasize a few more times how damn popular this work is and how often it is reflected in culture.

here are some illustrations for these books

now let's talk about the plot. It's weird, but it's weird at samurai-dogs-story level so stay here.

In brief, the story tells about the commander Satomi Yoshizane, whose native lands were attacked by the army of a man, whose forces surpassed those of Satomi, and the samurai in despair swore to a dog named Yatsufusa that the dog would get his beloved daughter Fuse as a wife if he chewed that man's throat. surprisingly, the dog not only understood the owner, but also fulfilled his wish! after that the commander refused to keep the promise. however, Fuse, true to her word of honor, went with Yatsufusa to the mountains and became his wife. upon learning that his daughter was pregnant, Satomi, in a rage, sent a samurai to kill Yatsufusa and bring Fuse home. she stood up for the dog anyways and died with him. at that moment, eight pearls with hieroglyphs that denoted the foundations of Confucian virtue burst out of her womb. (...cheers for mythology, I guess)

Soon, eight dog warriors who were Fuse's spiritual children were born in different parts of Awa province. after going through hardships, they got together and became vassals of the Satomi clan, then won the battle, and soon reached peace.

some more illustrations made by Utagawa Kuniyoshi. from left to right: Inukawa Sōsuke (the dog warrior), Inumura Daikaku (the dog warrior), Princess Fuse (their mother).

the novel mainly tells about each individual warrior dog and his shenanigans in a funny adventurous way. huge fame has led to excerpts from Hakkenden being staged at the Kabuki Theater and mentioned in the anime and manga, such as Inuyasha, Dragon Ball, as it turned out, Naruto and so on. there's also a lot of films and video games.

The eight virtues

these are loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, love, honesty, justice, harmony, and peace.

they relate more to Chinese culture, but basically Hakkenden was inspired by it too. since I did not read the whole novel, I would still like to mention at least the values on which it is based, and which were embedded in the symbolism of this story. It's quite interesting to apply this to Kakashi's dogs. gives them more weight and depth.

It is also interesting to note that the reason why Fuse gave birth to dogs was also that her father was cursed earlier in the story in a way that his descendants would become depraved like dogs. in Japanese culture, dogs embody the duality of character: the same mentioned filth and depravity, and devotion and bravery. so as samurai. but this is a different conversation, more related to Kakashi and his dog poetry.

Did you get here? Here's an additional discovery for you✨

Pakkun's name (パックン) is derived from the Japanese onomatopoeia “pakupaku” (パクパク) which reflects the sound of munching.

Kakashi, that's very sweet of you.

thank you for reading this to the end ♡

#kakashi hatake #kakashi #naruto #naruto shippuden #Kakashi's dogs

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navybrat817 · 4 months

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The Dad Diaries: Welcome Home

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky reflects on the first night with his son home and puts his thoughts to paper.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?).

A/N: Welcome to The Dad Diaries! This AU will focus on Bucky and his relationship with his son (and you!) ❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared intently at the open blank journal that sat in the middle of his office desk. He had picked up the pen a few minutes ago, but hadn’t written a single word. Why did he feel stuck? Better yet, what was he thinking by doing this? Reading often came easy to him, but writing? That was something else entirely.

It was also something he wanted to do.

He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and wondered if he should call it a night, crawl into bed with you, and try tomorrow. No, he didn’t want to push it off before he even began. Glancing at the monitor, he heard your voice in his head, a memory of something you told him in the early stages of dating:

The best writing comes from the heart. Write what you and your heart love because no one knows that story better than you.

Bucky had plenty of stories to tell. How he became a hero and a good man after years of pain and darkness. Or how he fell in love with you and became your husband.

And his newest adventure of becoming a father.

He wasn’t sure how to be a dad yet, but he knew he loved his son. That was more than enough to start. And with a smile tugging at his lips, he put the pen to paper.

Hey, Nugget,

My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Most people call me Bucky. Your mom calls me her husband and I’m the luckiest man in the world for that, especially since she gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for: you.

Your name is James, too. Your mom doesn't know if we’ll call you Jamie or JJ, but I have a feeling you'll hear a bit of both. And one day, I’ll get to hear you call me Dad. Or Dada or Daddy or Papa.

Whatever makes you happy.

He paused in his writing when he thought he heard something on the monitor. His eyes flickered to the screen again and he breathed a little easier when he saw that his baby was still sleeping soundly in the middle of the crib. It wouldn’t stop him from checking on him later, just to be on the safe side.

I’m so glad you’re home. In fact, tonight is your first night in the nursery. I hope you like it here. To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A house is made with walls and beams: a home is built with love and dreams.”

Yeah, your old man likes to read. Maybe you will, too. I even have an original copy of The Hobbit and would love to give it to you when you're older.

Books lined the far wall of Bucky’s office, many of them worn from the amount of times he read them. He made sure Jamie’s room had a reading nook, too. It was one of the only things he asked for when the two of you designed the nursery.

I hope you get enough sleep tonight. Your mom, too. You both did great at the hospital and deserve all the rest you can get.

Would you believe me if I said I was a nervous wreck when I brought your mom in, but tried not to let it show? People call me strong, but I don’t think I ever witnessed true strength until I saw how steady of a rock she was. She blew me away, which didn't surprise me. She amazes me every day.

Hearing your first cry stopped my heart and brought tears of joy to my eyes. After nine months of waiting and talking to your mom’s stomach, you were finally here. And seeing her hold you made me fall in love all over again.

Sorry if that sounds sappy, but it’s true. She looked right at me with happy tears in her eyes and said, “Bucky, look! Look at what we made! It's our little Nugget!” and my heart swelled. She insisted on calling you that and it rubbed off on me. Believe me when I say that you are the luckiest baby in the world to have the mother that you do.

He stopped writing again to glance at his wedding band, smiling all over again. He thought your love filled his heart before, but it overflowed now. It warmed him like nothing else ever could.

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this since a lot of time will pass by the time you read this. Sometimes I may write to remember things I’m afraid I’ll forget. Other days I’ll write to reflect and get the words out when my mind is too loud. But my hope is that this will be a gift to you.

A bond for the two of us.

As you grow, I’ll fill the pages with the memories of you and our family. I’ll tell you about my past and how it shaped me into the man I am today. How your mom and I met and how I somehow convinced her to fall in love with me. And I’ll be sure to tell you about the day she told me we were going to have you and how that news changed my life for the better.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued.

I also plan to fill this with your milestones. Like your first smile. Is it selfish if I hope to see it first? If not me, your mom. She’d love that. Your first step. Being selfish again, but I hope it’s me you walk toward so I can pick you up and tell you how proud I am. And your first word. I hope it’s Mama.

Though I won’t object if you say Dada.

Bucky chuckled as he imagined the look of betrayal on your beautiful face if your son said “Dada” first instead of “Mama”.

I’m sure some days I’ll have more to say than others. If I’m lucky, I can pass on life lessons and words of wisdom. Some days though I may not say the right thing and I know I’ll stumble along the way as I figure out how to be the best dad to you. I say “best” and not “perfect” because perfection doesn’t exist. Except for you and your mom.

The beauty of it is that I don’t have to go it alone. I’ll have your mom by my side to help guide and protect you and to watch you flourish. And my hope is that you know as you look through the pages how much we love you.

Even on days I may not get it right, I’m your dad, you’re my son, and you’ll always have a home with me and a place in my heart.

I’ll write more when I can, Nugget. Until then, I love you.

Always,

Dad

Bucky set the pen down as he exhaled. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. It was a start. As long as he put his heart into his words, it would shine from the pages.

And he couldn't wait for all the adventures he’d have with his little Nugget.

I hope you lovelies are excited to take this journey with Bucky. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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bookofthegear · 8 months

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You are carrying your Grandma’s good stabbin’ knife!

Family legend holds that Grandma acquired it the morning of her wedding day, when she entered the kitchen to discover the groom and the maid of honor on the table, doing something that did not involve plating canapés. The groom went for his pants, Grandma went for the knife, and the maid went all to pieces.

Once she had run them both out of the county, Grandma declared that she was still getting married that day, come hell or high water, whereupon the best man confessed that he had always worshipped her from afar and the day proceeded with only minor alterations. They were happily married for nearly forty years, until Grandpa’s death (not by stabbing.)

The knife served Grandma through two wars, one revolution, and a home invasion, and she gave it to you to take to college because “Child, you just never know.”

You also have a canteen, a blanket, and a deeply unreliable guidebook. And now, apparently, you also have a finch named Jimmy. He lands on your shoulder and trills excitedly to himself. {No, I’m not going to run a poll as to whether you take the finch. I know you people.}

The dark crack in the wall looms before you. With trepidation, you step inside, into a long concrete corridor holding an immense stone gear. It’s not turning. You’re not sure if it even can turn. The teeth don’t look right, and it has to weigh at least a ton.

The corridor runs east-to-west, and the concrete walls are covered in graffiti. You don’t even recognize the languages of half of them. There’s even a line up near the ceiling that looks like cuneiform, and you don’t think concrete had even been invented at that point. And of course, drawing a dick on things is timeless, and people have. Repeatedly.

One line in English reads “Harry Mountford was here!” and is dated nearly a hundred years ago. You could almost believe that the labyrinth had been untouched all that time, but some of the graffiti looks much fresher.

The floor is covered in dried leaves blown in from outside. Which is a little odd, now that you think of it, because you’re pretty sure they’re deciduous leaves and that’s a pine forest outside. That’s as much as you can say about the leaves, though. (Look, you really WANTED to take Botany for Adventurers, but it was opposite The Wombat of Shalott and Other Pre-Raphaelite Obsessions and c’mon. You’re not made of stone.)

Both directions lead into darkness. You can hear a very faint rhythmic squeaking coming from the west.

#book of the gear #ursula vernon #t kingfisher #choose your own adventure

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months

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World Cup IV

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Sweden vs Australia

After the match against Spain, Morsa has to play Australia to see if she can win you a medal. She says that she will and Morsa doesn't like to lie so you trust her.

You play around in the changing room with moster Frido as everyone gets ready and she lets you run around in the atrium before the tunnel for a bit too.

When the match is going on, Momma will come and collect you so you can have food and drink in the box but right now you get to stay with Morsa's teammates.

You step out of moster Frido's gaze when you first meet the other little girl. She's younger than you and she speaks English like Sam does. She gives you a little bracelet and says that she's your girlfriend now because her mummies are girlfriends.

That confuses you.

You don't spend a lot of time with other little girls your age and sometimes adults are easier to get on with.

So, you accept her gift and run off to hide behind moster Frido's legs.

"What's up with you, monster?" She laughs when she notices you poking your head out," Did you miss me that much?"

"I have a bracelet," You say softly and Frido has to crouch down to hear you.

"Really? Where'd you get that?"

You peer around her to look at the little girl who is now being held by someone in an Australia kit. You stay silent.

"Do you want me to help you put it on?"

You hold out your wrist and moster Frido puts it on the moment before the rest of the team comes out and Morsa collects you.

It's her last match of the World Cup and you walk out with her.

She presses a kiss to your head before surrendering you to Momma, who easily hoists you up over the barrier and lets you run wild around the box.

The match is very fun to watch and many times Momma has to remind you that leaning over the barrier is wrong and that you shouldn't do it in case you fall.

You heed her warning each time before completely disregarding it the moment you get vaguely interested again.

Moster Frido manages to score a penalty near the later stages of the first half and you jump up and down and celebrate like the rest of the team does.

Morsa goes down a few minutes later after hitting Sam's head with her chin. You immediately go running off to hide with Momma, unwilling to look as you wait to see what happens.

Morsa gets back up though and carries on playing and you feel you and Momma breathe out twin sighs of relief at the action.

The halftime whistle comes and Sweden is still one-nil up so you take a break from being excited to have a snack.

"What's this?" Momma asks, tapping the bracelet the girl from earlier gave you.

It makes you feel a little weird to look at and you don't fully answer the question. "Momma?" You say," Are you and Morsa girlfriends?"

"Hmm, I guess we are but I always call her my partner."

You think for a moment. "Because you and Morsa are girlfriends, does that mean that I get to have a girlfriend too?"

Pernille feels a little nervous at your line of questioning. You're toeing the line of a conversation that really ought to be had with both her and Magda present though, to be honest, it was coming a lot later than she thought it would.

She knew that you knew that having two mums is different to most other people. She knew one day you would have questions about it. She didn't really know why it was the topic on your mind when Magda was forty-five minutes away from winning you another World Cup medal.

"Well...not if you don't want to," Pernille says, erring on the side of caution," You can have a boyfriend or a girlfriend or no one at all."

"Hmm," You grunt, staring down at your bracelet," Okay. Thanks, Momma."

You don't offer up any explanations and bounce right back to your feet as the teams come back out.

Asllani nets Sweden their second and final goal and you celebrate like they've just won the World Cup.

You're a bit impatient as Morsa gets her medal, fidgeting until she comes bowling over and plucks you from the crowd. One hand supports your body against hers and the other slips her newly won medal around your neck.

It's shiny and a bit heavy and you press a kiss to her cheek in thanks.

"Where'd you get that bracelet, princesse?" She asks as you walk hand in hand over to moster Frido.

"My girlfriend gave it to me," You huff in annoyance.

Morsa freezes. "Your what?!"

"My girlfriend." You pull at it. "She gave it to me 'cause we're girlfriends. Is that how it works? Can I decide that anyone is my girlfriend? If I give Jessie a bracelet, can she be my girlfriend? I think I like Jessie more than my girlfriend."

Morsa's mouth opens and closes like a fish before she sighs deeply. "That's...not how it works. If you want a girlfriend, you have to ask them if they want to be your girlfriend. You don't just tell them."

You think that over for a moment as you come to a stop in front of moster Frido, who is caught up told about everything's that just happened by Morsa.

"So..." You say finally," If I ask Jessie and she says yes does that make her my girlfriend?"

Morsa looks like she's going to start crying or maybe screaming but moster Frido cuts her off.

"You're still little," She says," You don't need a girlfriend just yet."

You think about that for a moment. It makes sense. You don't really need a girlfriend right now. You still have football to think about and you know sometimes Morsa gets distracted by Momma while playing football and they're girlfriends so it's probably best that you go without one until you're the very best.

"Okay," You say," I won't ask Jessie to be my girlfriend."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder #pernille harder x reader #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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misslovasstuff · 7 months

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Prompt: “Wanna go on an adventure?”

You say whilst wearing a sexy dress that’d leave any man drooling.

paired with: Sanji, Zoro and Ace.

warning: contains nsfw, minors are asked not to interact.

author’s note: the opening line for Ace is the smoothest thing I’ve ever written till now. If you guys want me to continue any of this, let me know.

Sanji:

“Goodness, - he eyes you up and down. - oh my oh my oh my…!”

The cook’s mouth drops as he covers it with his hand in complete disbelief.

“You’re such a merciless woman! - Sanji approaches slowly, caressing your arm with the back of his hand just to feel you and understand that what’s happening right now is certainly not a dream. - Don’t you know what you do to me when you wear clothes like these~

He grabs your bra strap on your shoulder and pulls it, hitting your skin, all whilst never shifting his gaze away from your eyes which were too shy to look back. A small moan escapes your mouth as you look at your man in a new light, since he’s never done this before.

“Sanji… - you call him breathily, as there is a passion in his eyes you recognised very well. - you’re being so…ahh…”

His hand caresses your back and stops low. You can’t tell what he’s doing until your dress begins to losen up.

He reveals the bow tie he had just removed, putting it in between your faces as he whispers: “you’ve wrapped yourself like a present for me, my lady. “

His left hand pulls you by the waist while the other brushes off some strands of hair out of your face, thus making your eyes meet: you realise how beautifully intense his gaze on you, as if he was looking at a dream come true.

His charms were too much to handle, making you gulp hard as you glance at his lips, so much so that Sanji might have heard it. His instincts are insane, he knows what you’re feeling and why every single time.

“I did put this on for you.” - Sanji averts his eyes for a moment, staring at your body with a smirk after your reply. The dress was revealing but still managed to leave space for imagination to fill. And, anybody who knows men, especially the ones like Sanji, know that this is all they want to get that fire going.

He grabs your chin gently and kisses your cheek. You surely know because of Sanji about those kisses where the impact of his lips is like a signature on your skin and you just feel it as if he was kissing your soul, you absorb it with every fiber of your being.

“Right, you wanted to go on an adventure? - he smirks before kissing your face again and again in such an agonising small pace, letting you wanting more, so much more.. - You might take me on one, under one condition.”

You raise an eyebrow and grin:

“Oh really, you’re putting conditions now, huh?” - you say, playing with his hair as your arms rest on his shoulders. - What is it that my prince wants?”

“Well, adventures are dangerous so, - Sanji begins to kiss you on the lips soflty, as he speaks in between, - might have to keep you very close to me. - his lips move down your neck, fingers brushing off skin before he kisses and sucks there. Slight moans are already being heard from you. - not to mention all the excitement…

You’re completely pulled in by him. Not only physically, but your entire being deviates towards his body, like a moth to a burning flame.

“I’ll take… responsibility for it all…” - your breath begins to shorten as you drown your face in the nape of his neck, taking in his fragrance like it was a life-saving drug.

“You’re gonna take care of me, huh? Alright then, the most important thing is, - suddenly he goes down in one knee, grabbing your leg and placing your foot to rest on his thigh while he caresses the inner part of yours. - you gotta let me undress you bit by bit, on my own, throughly.”

You smirk, raising your dress just a bit higher to reveal more to his bare eye. That’s see how long it’s gonna take until this dress finds itself on the floor.

“Deal. All yours.”

Zoro:

“Oh, look at that. Someone’s been feeding her imagination lately.” - Zoro is sat on a chair, looking like he had just finished a glass of booze.

“Only mine?” - you close the door behind you, staying firm in front of him.

Zoro’s eyes adventure in your body before he spins his index finger as to signal you to turn around 360 degrees for him.

So you do.

If only there was a way do describe the way his eyes stared you down, as if he was consuming you only with his gaze. After taking a last sip out of his glass, he puts it away, licking his lips.

“Come here.” - he demands by patting his lap for you to sit.

You compose yourself on his thigh, the rest of your legs resting on his other whilst your long and tender arms wrap themselves around his neck.

Zoro scans your face with a smirk that hides so many nasty thoughts which only occurred when he was with you like this.

“Tell me about that adventure you were talking about.” - he claims with a low and deep voice, brushing your chin with his thumb.

Perhaps it was the booze or perhaps it was you who had gotten the swordsman a bit tipsy.

Zoro pushes your hair away from your shoulders, planting gentle but rooted kisses there.

“Tell you or show you? - you reply back, running your fingers through his hair and then brushing off the back of his neck.

“I’m a visual learner.”

With the cue, you caress his lower lip, leaning in and then facing away, teasing him.

A smirk from you doesn’t go unnoticed by your man, which he mirrors and shakes his head to.

“You know, it doesn’t make sense for you to play hard to get after coming to me dressed like this.” - he claims, biting his lip as his eyes glance at your body.

Zoro raises an eyebrow, at your next remark.

“Sorry, i keep getting distracted.”

You like the expression on his face. There’s frustration but love, eagerness but also resistance. Normally you wouldn’t continue teasing him like this but you know he likes it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you focused for some time.”

It’s not long till he grabs your cheeks with one hand while the other caresses your thigh and pushes you closer so your lips meet passionately. His tongue dominates yours and he kisses like he was sucking the soul out of your body. The taste of alcohol on his mouth, his heavy breathing and those subtle but harsh touches were making you go insane.

His hand travels down to your upper part of the dress, lowering it with one pull thus revealing your bare chest. He gazes upon it before grabbing it with a hand, squeezing those boobs together before devouring them in his mouth.

Seeing you dressed like this, although not admitting it, must have turned him on like crazy. Your moans only add to his excitement as you push your head back, breathily calling his name.

“Zoro…- you clench your hand to his shirt, keeping yourself balanced.

“Ima bout to take you to the best adventure you’ve had in your life.”

This said, his hands take a strong grip on your waist, grabbing it good before picking you up and making you sit on the table, parting your legs and looking intensely at your eyes.

Zoro pulls you in by grabbing your legs, touching his forehead with yours as he whispers:

“Damnit, you’re so sexy right now I’m barely holding myself together.”

Ace:

“Dressed like that, the only adventure you’ll take me is inside you.”

You get all flustered as he scans you from head to toe, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Not to mention, now I feel underdressed.” - he claims chuckling, as he pushes his body forward to approach you. Ace looks down on you, seeing your body from a perspective he didn’t imagine before. The way your dressed fit with your curves and just the fact that you looked so hot in it made his body go all ‘code red’ whilst standing in close proximity, but not putting any hands on you yet.

“Well, it won’t matter anyways, - you reply, making the first move by caressing his chest. - you’ll get it off me faster than I put it on.”

“I see you came with clear expectations. - he replies, touching the hand you were caressing his chest with and lending a kiss to the palm. - what can I do for you, beautiful? You want an adventure?”

Your expression softens, as small romantic gestures that he did always left you in awe. But you’re no fool because it is known very welll by both of you what happens soon after and how that softness turns into grabbing the bed sheets.

“Kiss me, please.” - your voice sounds desperate which makes Ace grin.

“So needy today ~

His lips are inviting yours in a way that’s never happened before. He presses them delicately at first only to go absolutely feral after. Feels so perfect that even his head movements are in sync with yours, like dancing a fierce tango. He’s too eager, too hungry and too demanding. You’d swear you felt his tongue going down your throat as his hands are placed so well at your lower back, sliding down slowly.

“Ace… - you moan after finally catching your breath. Meanwhile, this man can’t stand without doing something that drives you crazy and you loved him for that.

He manages to get his hands under your dress, squeezing your ass like it was the only thing he wanted to hold on in this life. Ace comes back with more passionate kisses and touches second after second, making you unable to think, thus you just surrender to him completely.

“Dressed all pretty for me, - he says, pushing you a bit backwards, pinning you against the nearest wall. - you deserve a good reward, don’t ya?”

As your back hits the wall, Ace wastes no time in grabbing your legs and pushing them up to his waist. The dress no matter how sexy, still prevented him from feasting his eyes at you. A smirk appears on your eyes whilst biting your lip as you hang onto him shoulders.

He starts unzipping the front of your dress, turned on even more by looking at your expression filled of burning lust, showing unconsciously how much you wanted him.

“Let’s do some adventuring, shall we?”

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kentosbabes · 10 months

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Pool time

Best friends older brother trope with Gojo (smutty af)

Gojo, your best friend’s older brother, fuck this is going against every girl code in the world. You grew up with them, your families were close so you spent every summer at their grandparents and they came with you on holiday. And to be fair, you never saw him like that anyways, that was until this summer. Usually, he’d be stuck in hisgaming with friends or outside playing basketball. You stayed with your mother for the first half of the summer, and you were invited to stay with their family for the rest as she had a holiday booked with your father and Gojo’s parents abroad. It was just like normal, except well it was evident that he had a really good summer.

Walking into the living room and dumping your bag on your best friends bed, you went to get a glass of water and some snacks to watch some tv with. But there he was, hair annoyingly perfect and my god did he have abs now? Sweaty, shirtless and glistening. You could’ve had an aneurism right there and then. “-n, Y/n?” Spaced out of course you did, “Hey! How have you been stranger?” He throws a signature smirk your way and did your stomach just flip flop?

This isn’t right, you should see him like a brother or at the very least a very platonic friend. You both conversant with each other, it was like no time had passed- he still teases you and you still get playfully annoyed at his dumb remarks. You explain the situation, that you’re staying here until both of your parents come back from their vacation. “Well, it’s good having you around it hasn’t been the same without you.” You couldn’t tell if he was flirting with you or just playing around.

Days turned into weeks, and your time at the Gojo house proved to be an adventure of its own. There was an unspoken tension between you and Satoru that made you confused the most. It was the late-night conversations on the rooftop, stolen glances across the dinner table, and playful banter filled the air. There was an undeniable magnetism pulling you and Satoru closer together, yet the fear of jeopardizing your friendship held you back.

With each passing day, the bond between you and Satoru grew stronger, and the line between friendship and something more became blurred. The forbidden desires that had remained dormant for years began to surface, igniting a flame that couldn't be extinguished.

One scorching afternoon, as you lounged by the pool, the heat seemed to intensify between you and Gojo. Your friend left to hang out with her boyfriend so it left the both of you to try cool down in the pool. Beads of sweat trickled down your temples as you watched Gojo emerge from the water, his toned physique glistening.

You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The air was thick with an unspoken tension, and your heart raced in anticipation.

“Do you feel this? Tell me I’m not crazy,” he starts to swim closer to you, “We can’t do this, you’re my younger sisters friend,” Gojo is looking at your lips and deep into your eyes.

“Yes, you can, I’m eighteen and she doesn’t need to know and if she finds out she can get over it.”The heat is unbearable, the tips of your noses are touching and you’re breathing in synchronicity. “Fuck,” he pauses, “I guess we are.”

Closing the gap between your lips, kissing you in the pool, underneath the water, his fingers are already slipping inside the lining of your suit, long, insistent. “Gojo,” you plead.

Sitting on the edge of the pool step, you settle in his lap- your chest still underwater but your head available for his miscreants. As you settles over his lap, a growing bulge you pretend isn’t there, like his dick isn’t burying itself up in your skimpy suit. “Please, Gojo,” you whine, you start to ache- unconsciously grinding on him. “I gotta say, I love hearing you say my name like that.” Kissing your neck and bitting the love of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re already wet for me right now, I can tell the difference between the slick your pussy makes and water.” He pulls the bikini bottom aside and his cock slides between your soft thighs, up against that wet flesh. Prodding. Teasing. Hard.

As he stretches you open, the initial thrust inside is slow and pleasantly sharp. He's big, shifting his hips slowly for you to take it all in. He feels unlike anyone you’ve ever been with; there's a sadistic edge to his slowness, dragging each stroke as if he wants to slide over every nerve in the tight confines of your cunt. “Fuck, I know you like this so let me hear it, she’s gone to the shops and won’t be back for a while.”

Moaning louder and whimpering his name like a mantra you listen well to his commands.

You gasp into his mouth, unconsciously raising your leg up to wrap around his waist as he supports you with his arm, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as you feel yourself reach your high, the coil in your tummy snapping. Water rushes around your waists, splashes between your bodies, and you feels so warm, so weightless. Blissed out and fucked out.

“Gonna cum? I know you are I can feel it, it’s ok I’m right here, you can do it, don’t act like you don’t want me to fuck you even harder than this. You’re clenching and squeezing my fat dick that’s buried in your cunt, I’m right here babe. Come for me baby. ”

“Y/N? Gojo? I’m back! What’s up?” Your friend of five years asks, Gojo drapes his arms around you like he’s giving you a hug, innocent, friendly. “Nothing much, it was too hot in the house and we wanted a dip in the pool,” you quickly added.

“Ah, well I have an assignment that’s due tomorrow so I can’t join you but I put the ice cream in the freezer so feel free to get one.”

Gojo’s sister leaned in to theatrically whisper, “But if I catch you eating my Ben and Jerry’s cookies and cream ice cream I’ll kill you.” You shifted yourself further back into the pool to avoid her seeing what you two are doing, immediately regretting it because Gojo’s dick hit a spot that sent you a little haywire. Causing you to gasp. Your friend looked at you in concern, “Just stood on my foot wrong” reclaiming your composure.

Gojo started to rock his hips, pushing back into your soft body, ass bouncing against him underwater, before the door hushes over the frame again. Quietly shushing and grabbing a handful of your soft ass, squeezing and rubbing. He buries his fingers into your flesh till you feel that you’re going to be bruised. At this point, his cock is so hard that the friction of it inside of you makes you feel so full, that it’s so achingly deep. You cum fast and hard, ducking your head under the water and covering your mouth lips with his hand.

“We need to do that again. Fuck.” He whispers into your ear.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

Text

TOWER OF BABEL (VII)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VIII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, intense stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death/injury, toxic modeling standards/expectations, dark implications, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scar descriptions, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: This is where some of the more serious/dark aspects come into the story involving Seraph's job and the pressures that are put on her. It's only implied in this chapter, but in the next, it'll be talked about more. Just to let you all know.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The day after your meeting, your gifted clothes came to the lobby of the penthouse.

You’d gone down with Nikto and picked up what you could, bags and bags of designer goods including purses, makeup, and jewelry. It was excessive—like Fedorov was trying to buy your silence; buy your affection so you’d cozy up into bed with him.

This job tried you every day, but that was a line you would never cross. Never.

Still, the items needed to be taken and packed for the trip regardless. Eyes would be on you from the moment this adventure from hell started until it ended in what hopefully was a peaceful fashion.

But you severely doubted it would be anything close to peaceful.

You take another gray dress and slip it into the garment cover, legs folded on the floor of your living room as you hum under your breath. Music wafts out from your record player, and you’re desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. Nikto reads from the couch.

“Have they called you yet?” You ask, not looking up as you slide the cover’s zipper, missing it once as your hand shakes unexpectedly.

The Russian responds with a slow and even, “Нет. No calls.”

You sigh, licking your lips.

No one had been telling you what was in that last gift at AMA—not even your mother. Aly had said it was probably nothing when she’d been briefly over to assist with the clothes, on a tight break in her schedule, but you weren’t too sure of that.

Pale eyes blink slowly, and a page turns. “No use thinking. Pack.”

“You make it sound like it’s that easy,” you huff, body leaning back and spine resting against your various rugs. The penthouse was warmer today, and you wear comfortable loungewear; shorts, and a dark baggy t-shirt. Your head shifts, arms out beside you. “How are you so calm about everything? My heart feels like it’s constantly going to break out of my chest.”

Your phone goes off on the coffee table, a short buzz that has to be either your mom or Alyona. Rubbing a palm into your right eye, you hear the bear grunt and close whatever he was reading, finding it pointless to try and focus if you continue to speak to him.

He stares for a moment, hidden face a mystery you long to solve. With a tap of his finger on his thigh, he explains.

“Training,” you blink, intrigued. Nikto seems to notice, tilting his head and looking down at you. “You are scared, Woman, yes?”

“Of course.” You had no trouble admitting it. “Anyone would be.”

“In military,” the air of the penthouse moves with the weight of his broken words, the rough bleed of vocals. You really did like his accent—it just added so much to his already intimidating form. Just a stack of bricks being constantly grated against one another. “We were taught how to become used to it—the adrenaline. Fear. In the end, it held little over many; failure was the only fear that never left.”

Your brows furrow, lips frowning. “You fear failure, Nikto?”

You expected a blunt refusal, quick words. But the man had been softening to you over the time you’d known him—if that was your own doing, or something more, you can’t quite tell anymore. Any talk on soulmates has feld you like a rabbit in a dark wood to shy away from the looming presence of something bigger; parties and scorned maniacs.

You still wonder if ignoring the gifts was the right thing to do. Would that make it worse? You think you’d read about that somewhere.

A trigger. But the stalker had already pushed one of those, hadn't he? What could he do that was worse than killing three men? Mutilating animals?

Nikto surprises you.

The man blinks, not looking away from your pleasing eyes—even now, your pupils were small with anxiety; he’d noticed how you adamantly avoided social media and the news, plastered with your pictures and the case. The window had never been opened fully since he’d been here, only a creak of natural light slipping from the crack of the half-risen blinds.

For a gruff beast of action, his eyes missed nothing.

“Yes,” he grumbles, blinking away for a moment before his attention returns. “But it is…lesser than what you feel. Незначительный. Minor.”

A small smile flickers your lips, skull to the ground even as it aches slightly.

“I like it when you speak to me—it helps,” you mumble honestly. It wasn’t flirting, not really.

The Russian looks slightly confused at your sentence, but that doesn’t stop his shoulders from minutely tightening. You chuckle, shifting your head to the ceiling where your little bits of painted glass hang.

“Nikto,” you point upwards. “That one—the bird. What color is it?”

This was a game you’d taken a fast liking to. You’d point and ask the color; Nikto would answer.

“Red,” is his monotone reply after a glance. Eyes from behind his mask shrouded in dark paint. You doubted the face grease could come off anymore, the chemicals already bone deep.

“I thought it was orange,” you sigh. “I still can’t tell the difference.”

“Obviously,” is the dryly amused response, with you glaring without venom and putting your hands to the ground to help push you back up.

“Hey,” you try to hide your teasing smirk. “I’m getting better at it—”

Your voice is strangled off as a sharp inhale, eyes blinking rapidly, and your vision blurs in a moment of ricocheting pain flaring in the base of your skull. Snapping one hand to the back of your head, you strangle down a small scream, reducing it to a whimper of utter agony.

Neck bending forward, your mouth fills with saliva as your spine pulls in, yet you can’t even focus on that. You feel like if you even have a single thought, your brain will explode out of the back of your head.

Nikto startles, eyes widening, but he doesn’t waste time on shock. Feet already rush over at the slighted change in the air, a hand grasping the base of your neck tightly, attention snapping into place. Your breath puffs as your frantically moving face tenses and eyelids twitch. Your nerves were on fire.

The Russian watches, confusion and a certain unease striking him through his pounding heart. What had happened? One second you were speaking and the next your body was so steel-like it shook harder than he’d ever seen it.

“Seraph,” he barks, face close to your head, looking at the spot you grasp at with your visible knuckles, the sound of your gasping pants leaving his throat echoing with reverberations of unease.

Nikto pulls at the skin of your wrist, peeling your hand back before you draw blood, trying to assess what to do. He only sees it then.

It’s a rabid-looking thing, the scar. With your hair as such, your fingers stuck in the knots, they’re pulled back just perfectly to see it. Pale blue eyes stare unabashedly, struck dumb for a moment in their concerned sheen.

It spans from the base of your skull upward, a jagged bulge of healed tissue and fissures—the shade of skin is different there, hyperpigmentation just as Nikto had. Halfway up the back, the rough line breaks into two places, creating a ‘Y’ with the one nearest to the right stopping sooner than the other.

But it was deep. Deadly-like. An indent lives at the middle point.

For someone so in tune with the ways of the body, Nikto was horrified and fascinated at the very implication; how had you…survived this? Your entire skull might have been broken open from the force of whatever had happened, judging by the strength needed to achieve such brutality. Was this the injury that you’d been speaking about?

An overwhelming emotion takes him by the lungs.

Your body had scars just like his did.

Form curling even farther forward, your legs pull into you, and Nikto finds that at the moment, none of that even matters.

“Seraph,” he orders again, equally as urgent but noticed less sharp. His thumb curls your wrist to trap itself at your pounding pulse; running as if being chased by whatever nightmares he hears you whine from in your sleep.

You swallow down your bile with a clicking of your throat and a small cough, eyes stinging.

“Burns,” your lips whisper, lids closing firmly. “God, my head burns.”

It’s a brief thought—a small moment of slip-second thinking that had saved his life many times.

A chilled palm spreads itself over the back of your head, directly over the broken fracture of flesh, without an utterance of a word. The effects aren’t immediate; you don’t just calm down and stop panicking. But it helps. Like a light in the dark, it helps.

After a minute, the chill seeps into your bones. It goes deeper and deeper, the large grip of Nikto’s fingers stuck into your hair perhaps a little harder than they needed to be, but you weren’t about to complain at the pressure. After two minutes, your panting slows to a small ragged wheeze—feeling like a sick duck as your beady eyes finally open. You see the unblinking pale orbs directly to your right almost immediately after the abyssal dots go back to wherever it was they came from.

He doesn’t speak; you didn’t expect him to. Nikto was arrogant, prideful, but he never spoke unless he knew he had something he needed to say. A blunt hound who never hesitated to bark, but only when he could see something was up in the tree.

When you’ve seemed to calm down, the hand on your wrist leaves with a brush of rough gloves to the skin, making you shiver. You notice the hastily tossed material of the matching product, belonging to the other limb, near your knee.

Cold fingers. Cold hands. A corpse would be jealous, but you’d never felt so thankful.

Nikto studies your face rapidly, and your raspy voice levels out a meek, “Sorry.”

Barely visible brows furrow tightly, almost disgusted. You perhaps misinterpreted that expression the wrong way, because just as you’re about to rush into a wild explanation as to why, how, and every excuse you can give, you’re once more taken off guard today.

Bulky arms circle your waist and under your vibrating knees.

With a sluggish reaction, you blink rapidly as you’re settled against the hard Kevlar of his chest—kept firm in his grip. Your legs hang, hand stabilizing yourself on Nikto’s pec.

“What did I say?” He asks heavily, looking down at you as your shock bleeds away to focus on how to calm your heart. “Seraph?” Nikto prompts, his fingers digging into your clothes.

You try to think, stuttering, “You don’t like it when I apologize.”

“So do not,” the Russian grunts, clenching his jaw out of sight. His words are low, and he rolls his shoulders. “That is the end of it.”

He sets you down on the couch, sinking into the multiple plush pillows. You feel weak—limp. Not looking into the man’s eyes, you curl your hands around your waist, leaning back and being careful to not hit your head on the back.

Nikto watches with hidden concern.

“Explain,” he utters, not moving an inch from in front of you. It’s a minute or so before you can find the words. All the Russian does in that time is shift his arms over his chest—fix the stance of his feet. You can feel his eyes like a knife, but you can’t feel how his brain is on high alert; vigilant to any pain that may be hidden from him.

“Happens sometimes,” you whisper, one vibrating hand coming up to lightly run over the back of your skull. You trace the scar softly, feeling the pulse underneath. “It’s just… sensitive.”

Nikto’s eyes narrow.

After a pause, where it’s obvious you feel some sort of embarrassment judging by your avoiding gaze, the great beast sighs long. A slow blink makes his dark lashes up and down.

He hated how he despised that look on your face.

Moving, Nikto sits beside you, leaning back with a grunt and extending an arm behind you on the hardwood of the couch’s frame.

“Tell me. I want to know.” You side-eye him, knees pulled up to your chest. It has a distance to it, your focus. Everything feels like it’s underwater.

“It’s not a good story,” you force a broken huff, smiling wobbly. Numb eyes don’t waver over the lines of your face.

“No,” Nikto bluntly says. “I did not expect it to be. Nonetheless…” he trails. “I am asking if you are willing to answer.”

It wasn’t like you were against saying what had transpired, but there was a lot of history there—so much. The event had happened when you were young, so many years had passed to a point where the mental pain of it had dimmed to all except the consequences. The aftermath.

This was a give and a take; you consider yourself a fair person.

“How did you lose part of your finger?” You turn it around, licking your lips and staring at his neck. The man’s body stills at the question.

Nikto slowly loosens a grumbled scoff. But it isn’t a feral thing. Perhaps he was even impressed that you had the forethought to gain something of his story when you’d already told so much of yours.

He reminds himself once more, not dumb.

“Very well,” Nikto’s head tilts like a wolf, his knee hitting the place where your feet hang over the edge of the cushion. He looks you up and down as his finger taps the wood behind your head. “Second year with PMC. Operation in far-off country—we do not care to remember which anymore.” You listen, heart calming with every scrape of vocal cords. Nikto explains slowly, thinking over every word carefully as his vision trails to rest at your nose. “Hostile hiding under floorboards.” The Russian rolls his shoulders. “I was reaching down to grab at the hatch; it confused me because it was partially open.”

Your body lightly turns his way, the side of your skull meeting the hard build off the inside of his forearm. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, getting everything under control again one second at a time. As if a book, you turn the pages of Nikto, painting a picture of his tale, oblivious to the way his eyes are stuck on your face. His arm stays completely still for you.

He longs to look at that scar again, and he can’t understand why.

“...Large knife came up through the wood. Cut it off and damaged the others near it. It is numb most days. Barely can tell I still have finger. Very inopportune, but all was not lost.”

“What wasn’t lost?” You hum, sighing, and open your eyes again. The Russian’s gaze darts away.

“I killed him,” he says numb-like, a vicious smirk in his voice. “In the end, it was only us who could tell the story, yes?”

“Does it hurt?” You change the subject back to his scars, liking how his forearm acted as your pillow. You could feel his tendons as they pulled.

“Sometimes,” Nikto shrugs at your quiet question, thighs over the couch cushions. “Like all the others. Natural.”

He doesn’t need to ask if yours do.

You dwell on what he insinuates about his body—the scars you already thought he’d have; why he wears that mask.

“I fell,” you share, not letting a long silence linger. Nikto’s feet shuffle on the floor, but otherwise, like a waiting cat, he was completely beholden to your soft voice. “Far. Cracked my head open on a rock.”

There’s so much more to it—but this is the version you always tell everyone. It’s less…complicated. Gets you less looks of pity, even if you’re not sure Nikto is the type to do that.

The large man hums, nodding. He wants to know more; he’d have to look into it further on his own. “You are lucky to be alive after an injury like that.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, lips twisting. “Lucky.”

Your skull pulses.

“But, anyways,” you wave a hand, locking gazes. “Thank you.”

Nikto’s knees crack as he stands, moving away; his heat leaves. Hands situating themselves at the collar of his vest, the Russian’s throat rolls with a noise of acceptance.

“It is my job. Do you require anything?”

“I think I’m okay,” you admit, feet delicately moving to the rug on the floor. It’s back to packing, pushing this to the back of your mind just as you do the remembrance of his fingers tight in your hair; tight at your wrist. Nikto’s hard voice in your ear, saying your angelic title.

Your throat clears itself, blinking, as you stand.

The man takes it as lightheadedness, one foot moving closer. Your hand raises, and he stops. A small chuckle moves out of your mouth, side-eyeing him with a crinkle to your lids.

“I’m okay, Nikto. Trust me, please.”

He sighs, fingers twitching. But he doesn’t grumble any blunt vitriol, he just watches. Always watching.

Your spirits are lightened by his presence.

Brushing down your t-shirt, you close your eyes and shove away the memories, tiny tingles of pain still present as they go up and down your spine.

“Now, we have to get to work,” you brush past the episode, used to them. “It would be helpful if you lent a hand, Big Guy.”

Your joke leads to a huff, fingers taking back their book from the table—all in Russian script, so you didn’t know what it was—and a roll of eyes.

“That is not my problem. Your clothes, your parties.”

“The parties you’re going to have to go with me too,” you smirk, eyes glimmering as you grasp your phone, flipping it over to turn it on and look at the text you’d received. “I hope you like suits.”

Pale eyes widen before a growled Russian sentence wafts over the music from the recorder. You laugh, already knowing the contents of curses and refusals. He was so much like a child sometimes it takes you aback. A brute, utterly refusing what was in front of him and owning a short fuse.

“Oh, calm down,” you blink, signing into your phone. “I’m good at finding clothes as long as you tell me colors and shades. You’re in the best hands in the business, Nikto.”

“Do not say it like that,” he barks, eyes narrowed and his body moving forward to pass you, most likely to go back to your bookshelf and return the book, seeing as he’d get nowhere with it now. “I do not want your hands, Whelp.”

“You’re saying that now,” you tease, pointing with your free finger. “Everyone says that before they have a taste of—”

“Quiet.”

You laugh, spine lightly bending forward, and Nikto’s back turned to you to where you can’t see his face soften at the sound. His body unconsciously loosens, orbs gaining a distance that has nothing to do with his condition. Your existence is a curse to him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It’s only after you’re able to calm down, the Russian putting his book away with a large hand, when you finally look down at the text you’d gotten.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘I sent you a gift and you didn’t even open it?’

Your face freezes mid-smile.

‘I’m giving you everything you wanted—you didn’t open the letter I gave you in the grocery store, either, did you? I waited for hours for you to show up! Hours for you! I’ve waited YEARS to be near you! I love you more than anything in my life and you’re ignoring me? How can you do that when I’ve risked so much? Please, Seraph, I love you but you’re breaking my heart—I’m trying so hard to be kind to you. Please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Это любовь с первого взгляда! Я не могу жить без тебя!

I’m trying to forgive you, my Сладкая, I promise. I’ll always forgive you, but let me show you how much you mean to me.’

Images pop through, scent quickly as your glee stiffly drops like glass to the floor. You’d never felt yourself go so still as when you’re halfway through the block of text and you see yourself at the grocery store, alone, and Nikto’s shadow disappearing around the aisle. More—so much more. You in AMA...in…in the photoshoot wearing nothing but the lingerie, skin on full display.

Your eyes flood with tears, jaw open.

He had been in that fucking room. He’d been there when your manager had brought in the dead birds—he, he had…

He’d been right there.

You can’t speak, you’re only looking down at the continuing barrage of photos.

Outside of the Consulate building, walking down the street, talking with Aly on a girls outing from months ago. Your phone vibrates with every one, quivering hands already moving but now more so. Like a rabbit being hunted down. It shows an escalation—the more you see the closer this freak was getting in each, slowly slinking with vile intentions until the last.

An image of the direct back of your head, a hand reaching, and almost touching, exactly where your scar lives.

You’re going to vomit.

The entire device is snatched by gloved fingers.

Nikto glares in confusion, ears twitching at every buzz of your phone. “What is wrong with—”

The man is suddenly more wound up than a dog under a noose.

Rushing past, you only reach the kitchen trash can two seconds before your bile rocketed from your mouth, heaving what little you’d managed to eat of Nikto’s cooking into the bottom with a tight sob.

Nikto’s hand holds the thing—reading, looking, with dead eyes. Dead eyes that gradually become enraged with a certain type of anger that breeds in silence. The skim, a ruthless finger tapping the screen and dragging the conversation back to the top before he stares. He stares and stares and stares at the pictures. At you.

The way you live your life, oblivious to the threat right behind you. Stalking closer.

Nikto can’t remember a time he’s felt so angry at an enemy before. Not just an enemy, no, an animal. This wasn’t like the rules of war, this was for pleasure; for a selfish need. He knew how to keep himself separate—had to for his sanity—but this was something no one could not get wrathful at. Even him.

He hears you wretch, vomiting into the trash just below the island where he’d made the both of you lunch, the choke of your sobbing breaths. The sounds make his hands tighten over the phone, to smash it to pieces like a toddler with a block castle.

And then the device buzzes one more time as Nikto silently finishes reading the first text you’d been sent.

‘Don’t worry about the bodyguard, Seraph, I can take care of him, too. We can finally be together, just like it’s supposed to be.’

Nikto is hitting the call button before his brain catches up to his finger.

Slotting it to his covered ear, he breathes like an afflicted hound, eye buggy and chest rattling with air. Panting echoed from behind his mask, the hot breath moving back to warm his slashed and burned flesh.

It picks up on the second ring, but nothing is said. No words from the other end.

In the corner of his eye, Nikto sees you hyperventilating. The former soldier speaks entirely in Russian, slipping back into his native tongue as easily as he slips into violence—it is nothing more than a slide of sandpaper.

“I am going to watch the life bleed from your eyes,” he grinds out. “And then I’m going to make your corpse wish it had been set on fire instead.”

Nikto hangs up, tossing the phone to the coffee table and making a mental note to get Yaromir and Galina to trace the number. Stomping over to you, your body was away from the trash now, hand to your mouth.

“I’m okay,” you say hurriedly, tears tracking your cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“You are not,” Nikto wishes he could go to the shooting range—wishes he could spar and slam someone down to a wrestling mat. He needs flesh under his fingertips.

The Russian’s chest is wide and rising with the pulse of untamed lungs. The bulge of his pecs stuttered over their course and the old scars he carries itch under the barrier of his gear.

Growling, the man clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head to the side firmly.

But there was something about the implication of you being threatened that made Nikto need to feel the weight of his service weapon in his grip. To feel the recoil of a bullet being sent into someone. A nameless figure; a silent phone call.

Nikto scoffs, rolling his neck and shoulders.

Thinking like this was making him reckless.

“I guess I should have told you about the letters, then,” you taste bile on your tongue, images swirling in your head—paranoia was firm. Suddenly, every memory was tainted. You gag on your saliva, coughing.

Nikto doesn’t respond to the self-deprecating comment.

Once more today, hands move to touch you, pulling at the space under your arms and lifting. Blinking, you’re moving around when your feet are flat on the ground—hands going to rest on the edge of the counter behind you.

Nikto’s hands stay stuck at the meat of your limbs, great head tilted. Eyes lock on the tear tracks spreading down your skin, and he pauses.

A thumb slowly pushes at them, spreading the liquid along your flesh as your blurry vision stays at his neck. With a shuddering inhale at the unneeded attention, your head lightly sags forward—connecting with Nikto’s chest.

He tenses, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

After a minute, his nose releases an unheard sigh, and his arms lower to his sides.

Nikto lets you rest there as long as you need.

—

You’re in the bath tonight, and Nikto listens to the water sloshing as he pushes the envelopes around from inside the lockbox.

It was safe to say you hadn’t gone back to packing.

That woman, Alyona, was here—she’d made a big fuss about the texts before she’d taken you with her and led you into the bathroom to clean yourself up. You were both in there now—talking. Nikto wasn’t going to act like he wasn’t eavesdropping; he didn’t care if your friend or you knew it. It was mostly about the parties, the talk, and the Russian could understand that Alyona was trying to occupy your mind.

His mission was more important.

You’d passed him the box and watched as Nikto had retrieved the letter from your coat pocket. The former soldier had already called the investigators and promptly told them to arrest Sergi, or they would have him to deal with—there hadn’t been time to respond before he’d hung up and smashed his phone to the nightstand of your rented room. The resounding echo had made both parties in the bathroom go silent for a minute before hesitantly starting back up.

And now, there was the scratchy English script of a stalker in his hands. He felt disgusting even touching them; he was glad he’d put his gloves back on. A permanent sneer was stuck to his hidden face like a curse, eyes narrowed.

Standing, the man trades weight from his thighs as he reads the letter that had been stuck in your jacket.

‘My Сладкая,

This is the one-hundredth letter I’ve written to you, though you haven’t been sent all of them yet. I’m still waiting for you to notice me, and I’ve grown disquieted by your response to the way I disposed of your three guards. Was that not what you wanted every time you looked at me?’

Nikto’s hand comes up to rub at the fabric over his neck, digging until he feels the bulge of his scar against his fingertips.

‘I thought you would be thankful, but now you have that man following you everywhere. He took your doves from you—the doves that were supposed to make up for the misunderstanding about the dead men. You looked beautiful with the red fire moving over your face that day, you know? It caught every curve and the softness of your skin perfectly. Here—I even took a picture for you to enjoy as I thoroughly have. I hope it brings you the pleasure it brought me to run my lips over your holy image.”

Fingers crumble the side of the letter, creasing it. Not once do they delve into the envelope to look for that picture. If he had the choice, Nikto would rip this entire thing into little bits.

‘I think it’s time that we meet—alone, Сладкая. I’ll be waiting tonight at the café for you, so we can run away together. And start this life together. I think it’s time. Yes. I will ravage you with all of the beautiful things in life; jewelry, dresses, makeup, my body. It is mine, isn’t it? You? You’ve told me with your eyes, so why are you still ignoring me? You look at me every day. I look back—you love me! I know you do! Why are you still being such a—’

It falls off into nothing but rabid script; illegible even to Nikto’s best abilities. The letter is saturated with something—spots of the paper pulling in on itself with droplets off…

Nikto stills, disgust and insult moving in his gut. There wasn’t any DNA on the box, but they certainly had some here.

Dropping the letter into the lockbox on the nightstand, the man takes the top and rams it shut with a rattle of the nesting dolls on the upper shelf. Nikto removes his gloves and tosses them into the garbage bin.

Stalking to the bathroom door, he moves on instinct. Ever the animal.

Knuckles rasp to the wood. Conversations halt once more.

“Seraph,” he eases, accent tight. “You are well?”

A bead of silence, the moving of water.

“Yes, Nikto,” your voice is still shaky, but it comes out from under the door.

Nikto stares at his feet, blinking. With a grunt, his feet shift and he forces out, “Good. You will call if you need us.”

It wasn’t a question.

Moving back, he nods to himself firmly, shaking out his right hand—he can’t seem to stop being on edge. Every creak, every shadow of your decorations moving, made his eyes dart to them, honing in as if behind the scope of a rifle.

Nikto brought his hands to the side of his skull, pushing in. You were messing with his head, he tells himself again. The moments of dissociation were becoming more frequent as of late, and he could feel it in the back of his mind even now. A glaze over his brain that made everything feel like it was worlds away from him—it was sharp and sure of itself. Words jumbled, ‘I’s came out as ‘We’s, things were lapsed from his brain; important things. Moments of confusion—aggression. Leaving you behind in a grocery store at the flip of a coin. Snapping at you in real anger when you were just curious.

He can’t do that. He can’t lose his grip.

From inside the bathroom, your eyes stay locked on the door, your head resting on the wall behind you as your skin soaks in the claw-footed tub.

“I don’t know if this is good for me, Aly,” you confess lowly, eyes shifting back to the wall ahead of you, a little black and white ceramic fish on a shelf. Candles let off the scent of linen and pine.

Alyona sits on the stool a few feet away, watching your face worriedly.

“Солнышко,” she starts slowly, “we both know it isn’t. It’s going to pass—I can’t hope for more than that.”

It’s like a repeating record—It’ll be okay, just keep strong, push through.

It wasn’t Aly’s fault; she’s involved in this too.

“Is Nikifor worried about you?” The woman’s head perks, her lips twitching as the orbs inside of her head soften.

“Seraph, you don’t have to change the subject—”

“Truly,” you move a hand up from the water and rub at your face. “Really, Aly, I need a distraction. Please, just…talk. You know I love to hear about the two of you.”

She sighs, looking to the wall. After a moment, she chuckles, head tilting down. “Yes, he’s worried. He worries about you as well. You have a home with us, little Солнышко—I want you to know that, yes?” Alyona brings a hand to your cheek, pinching in good nature.

You shuffle away in mock annoyance, lips twitching.

“...I know, Aly.”

“Good,” she huffs. “I would not be a good friend if you didn’t. At least that brute is taking care of you, it seems.”

“He’s a good cook,” you ease out. “You should try it sometime.”

Gray eyes blink at you, shocked. “He got you to eat a meal?”

“You’re saying it like I never do,” you chuckle, eyebrows pulling in as the dimmed overhead light shines down on your avoidance of the problem at hand.

“No, it’s not that,” Aly’s eyes rove with unseen emotion, her concerned heart gaining a smidge of affection for the man outside of the door, whose shadowed feet can still be seen pacing. “I am…glad, Seraph. Food is always the way to someone’s senses, eh?”

Your lips twitch, but the weight on your chest remains. A tense pause grabs the both of you.

“I wish you were coming with,” you have to admit on a stiff tongue. “Ever since I first got here, you’ve been with me for all of it—the parties especially.” Your open mouth stutters. “Aly, I don’t think I can do it again by myself. All of those people; what some of them expect from me, it…it’s just…” Getting choked up, you move a hand to your mouth, covering it. From behind the flesh, you mutter, “I can’t do it again, it’s just the same as staying here, as a matter of fact, I think staying would be better.”

“You need to think rationally,” Aly shakes her head, getting closer to take your hand in both of hers. She squeezes, her top shiny in the light as it moves. “Nothing is worse than staying in this city. The man outside the door agrees. It is the safest option for you, even if,” Alyona closes her eyes, looking away as she opens them. She never finishes her sentence.

“I don’t want to,” you fight a whimper. “Aly, we tried so hard to get out of them sending us like meat.”

But there’s nothing that the woman can do to you when you say it like that, and even her expression gets far away. Alyona’s eyes blink fast, getting glossy before they avoid your eyes for the rest of the night.

“I’m sorry, My Seraph. I’m so, so, sorry.”

And that’s all that can be said.

When night comes, you don’t think you sleep at all, and by Nikto’s pacing of his room, the occasional pause to peek his head through your doorway, neither does he.

—

The time to leave came far quicker than you could anticipate as the days blended. Chelyabinsk was nearly a three-hour drive if you went the fastest route, and in the time before it, you and Nikto hadn’t spoken much about the letters. They’d been taken by the investigators the next day, along with your phone, for testing and tracking. While you’d been given a new device, it was a tiny thing that died more times than not; you had three contacts—Alyona, Nikto, and your mom.

You’d been assigned a driver by AMA for the trip, and thus, the all-black vehicle had arrived in the small hours of the morning as you had finished a hurried call to your matriarch.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” you’d explained. “Business. I’ll keep me busy.”

She had said it was a good idea like everyone else. Aly and you were the only ones to know the truth. Dread was a fishhook in your throat, but the fear of staying here was just as prominent. Those pictures haunted your mind.

“Nikto,” you ask, grabbing one of your suitcases on the street with a grunt. “Can you…?” The item is taken and easily lifted into the trunk. “Thank you,” your voice breathes out a sigh into the early morning air.

You hadn’t been to Chelyabinsk in a long time. Your brain knew that it would be most of the same—you needed to be careful of who you spoke to and how you did it. While regular crime was only moderate, corruption and bribery was your main problem when entering the place. You were on Allurement’s payroll, would your CEO’s influence be enough to stop anyone from trying anything with you?

If you stuck to where you were told to go, you should be fine.

Along with yourself and Nikto, photographers and media know-hows would be tagging along; makeup artists and stylists. A team of people who mostly refuse to look at you at all, only a few familiar faces among them.

But, thankfully, only you and your guard would be in this car.

“You can get in,” Nikto comments, blinking at you in the dark street, the lights of the car and the penthouse behind you all you have to differentiate between shades of black and gray. Your eyes had been constantly narrowed so you could try and see better. “I will load the rest.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” you smile sheepishly, “I’d like to stay out until we leave. I get fidgety when I’m in the car for too long.”

His shoulders shrug, taking another of your bags from the ground. “Very well. You will eat on the way there, then.”

Your eyes blink, attention pulled back from the shadow of a man walking across the street, raising hair on your arms.

“What was that?” You tilt your head.

Nikto huffs. “Eat. On the way there.” He raises a brow. “You need breakfast.”

“Oh,” you at your neck slightly. “Sure, yeah. But what about you? Do you want me to turn around or something so I won’t see your face?”

“No need. We ate as you dressed. Packed the remaining for you.” You’re brushed past, the purse around your shoulder connecting with Nikto’s thigh as his boots clop over the concrete.

Your lips twitch, expression still worried but the tease sneaking out instinctually. “I need to start calling you Mother Bear, Nikto.”

“It will be the last thing you do, Whelp,” he grumbles, eyes looking over his shoulder as he packs the last suitcase away. Amusement is like liquid stone inside of them.

So the trip ensued.

You entertained yourself by staring out of the window as the cityscape rolled back, already missing the sanctity of your penthouse as you fiddled with a small stuffed bird in your grip.

“I spy…” you mumble twenty minutes in, trying to be normal again. “Something tall and gray—”

“Tree,” Nikto grunts, trying to read one of the books he packed.

“No,” you say, defensively. “It was,” your mouth opens and closes, scouring the passing scene but finding nothing. “Fine, yes, it was a tree.”

“I spy something blue.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“I believe it was funny. Perhaps you do not have a good sense of humor, Woman.”

You glare, throwing your stuffed bird directly at his forehead and watching it bounce off. Nikto doesn’t even look away from the words on his page, flipping to the next with a deep chuckle in his neck.

Rolling your eyes, you groan and slouch into your seat.

You had to say, though, that as the city disappeared, so did your anxieties. It felt good to be near dense croppings of trees again—only an open and uncrowded highway and Nikto beside you. His pale eyes would watch you every so often, and you would do the same, studying each other as time passed and a gradual silence fell.

“Can I use you as a pillow?” You ask with only an hour left on the trip.

Nikto’s halfway through his book, and up until now, you’d kept to yourself, lost in thought.

“I am not comfortable,” he utters, leg shifting. He glances, but his numb eyes don’t do much until they move back to where they were prior. “And my Kevlar is hard. It will aggravate your head.”

You had to wonder how fast he caught onto that fact about you. A smile grows on your face, and you shift to grab your jacket, folding it and tossing the item onto Nikto’s thigh. His head darts down right as you move to rest there, body sideways and legs folded against the door.

“I like it when you worry—it’s cute,” you stifle a yawn, ignoring his digging eyes. “Wake me before we get there?”

Your ears don’t wait for an answer, your fatigue from missing an entire night of sleep catching up where Nikto’s never would. He watched you rest for the remainder of the ride, hand hovering over your shoulder until it slowly slipped down to rest on it with a grumble of exasperated Russian under his breath. But the man had noticed the bags under your eyes—unable to be hidden by makeup. He found it in himself to let you sleep, even if the infection of your warmth made his head go loose; how your slackened face looked peaceful.

The knowledge of what you’d just experienced was still with him, even as he linked his feelings together as pointless. This was a waiting game, and everyone else seemed to have time except for you.

He didn’t like it. There was a nagging in the back of his gut—instinctual understanding as a hired gun who’d gone through many deployments. This was bigger; something was going to happen soon. A tipping point.

Nikto had a feeling you felt it too, as your head nuzzled his thigh in your sleep, shoving yourself into your jacket as tiny grunts moved from your lips; eyebrows furrowing.

Bad dream, the Russian clocked immediately, his book long placed at his side and his one elbow against the window frame.

Pale blue eyes watched for a moment, looking at your deep red blouse and the long back skirt that lightly cascaded over the side of the seats. His hand at your shoulder—hard and immobile, twitches as it tries to keep you steady, feeling the muscle under your flesh writhe.

Only when you can’t seem to calm down does he do anything at all.

Nikto can easily stamp an expression of annoyance on his face, of bored numbness, but instead, a sliver of something that could be considered softness bleeds from behind his eyes; something that even if he were to look into a mirror, he couldn’t name himself.

A finger brushes up your neck, scarred and broken, most of a finger missing and the nearest ones fuzzy with nerve damage. It hovers, steady, before his hand moves to massage along the base of your scar. It’s an awkward angle, no mistake. After all, he was practically grabbing the side of your neck to reach, but it was all he could offer short of waking you.

When he couldn’t sleep, he’d do the same to himself; it helped, he thought, feeling skin on skin—a caress that eases aches. Call it pathetic, but the sensations he was feeling doing the same to you were nothing short of trance-inducing. To understand the pulse of your heart—your breath returns to a slow puff; brows settling back down at only his circling thumb.

A bit of that infectious pride trickles into his eyes; smug.

Nikto grunts, and leans back into his chair, continuing his work to settle you, and smirks softly under his mask.

Only roughly half an hour to go, and then it was back to guard duty. But perhaps he could close his eyes and rest as well.

You made for quite the distraction.

TAGS:

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findafight · 1 year

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Okay but Joyce doesn't like Steve au that's juxtaposed by Hopper having accidentally adopted Steve but neither of them know the other's strong feelings towards Steve.

Joyce is eyeballing him all suspicious and the like. She doesn't trust him around the kids, is wary when Will talks about how he's actually pretty cool, and that Dustin is totally obsessed with him now. She greatful for his help with...whatever he did with the Upside Down stuff, but still. She knows his reputation. And her opinion doesn't change until post season 4 (despite a very frosty exchange she had with Claudia Henderson about maybe...being careful about letting Steve hang around Dustin pre S3) because suddenly Steve is like. Always at the house she shares with Hopper. She's ticked at first, because why is this random boy in her house? Hanging out and watching baseball with her daughter? And when she mentions why Steve is there all the time, at one of the seemingly rare times Steve isn't eating dinner with them (she thinks a date was mentioned, and she refrained from scoffing at how typical it was for Steve to have a date and probably not call back) El and Hop look at her like she's crazy.

Because Hopper is no longer afraid to admit his fondness for Steve. So much so that Joyce's distain for the kid throws him way off base. The whole time Joyce has been side eying Steve Hopper was sitting there smiling like Steve :) good kid :) he helped El with her hair after Kali. :') Talked about how to accept things you've done that make you feel guilty while working to make up for them and grow to be a better person :) always putting himself on the line to protect those kids :) wrote to El all the time while she was in California so she knew he was still her friend :) glad they have him. Glad El has him :)he called her Ellie last week that's cute :) unfortunate taste in men but apparently that's a family trait so I will deal with it :/ my son :')

So they're both going "why wouldn't he be?"

And Joyce barrels on like "well, he's always here and he and Jon are barely speaking-"

"Woah that not exactly...Steve's fault..."

"and he's closest to Dustin of the kids, not Will."

"not my fault I was dealing with possession when Dustin, Lucas, and Max had their special Steve adventure" (El pats his shoulder in sympathy)

"and now he's missing dinner for a date. just don't get no one else thinks it's weird!"

El frowns "it's their two-month anniversary."

"huh?"

"him and--his date. They have been dating for two months. It's special."

"El, you don't even know her name...I don't think it's that-"

"yes I do! He told me. But asked me not to tell. Right Will?"

Will nods. "They want to keep it quiet. Not ready for everyone to know? I don't know who it is but that's what Steve said when we asked. Robin definitely knows too."

"so why'd he tell El?"

"and me. He told us together."

El rolls her eyes "because he is my brother?"

Hopper's face scrunches in a smile, proud and warm.

"El, we aren't his family..."Joyce is trying, she is! But she isn't fully understanding exactly what's happening or everything in winter/spring 1985.

El looks mortally offended by this. "yes we are. Steve was my brother first."

And Joyce has to reckon with the fact that maybe she's misjudged Steve a little, if El and Hop are getting so defensive over him....

Part 2 part 3

#steve harrington #el hopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #steve and el #el and hopper #jopper #steddie #not explicitly there but also. yes it is.#stranger things #stranger things au #finda's rambles #finda writes stuff #steve and hopper #i LOVE steve and hopper fatherly relationship. hop realizing somewhere in spring 85 his got 5wo #hes got two kids now. haha #joyce doesn't like steve au

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vax-merstappen · 4 months

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F1 boys on a date with you <3

these posts are so long to scroll past so i added a keep reading line just for convenience, hope you don't mind

Lando Norris

Lando was thrilled when he discovered you liked gaming as much as he did. An ideal date night for the both of you was spent playing games together for most of the night. You both get competitive when it comes to games so every time you beat him at Mario Kart, you love to brag about it. That usually ends in him holding you and tickling you and eventually you both kissing and snuggling.

Oscar Piastri

Oscar, being an introvert, would love to spend a cozy and private night in with you. He would love to snuggle up in a blanket with you and watch one of your favorite movies together. Some drinks and takeout food would complete the night and you two would stay cozy together until you inevitably fall asleep holding each other in the early hours in the morning.

Max Verstappen

Max loves to spoil you and take you shopping, even though you insist that you can buy things yourself. He loves to see your excitement when you enter your favorite stores and just wants to make his girl happy by treating her to something he knows she will love. At the end of the day, you treat Max to a fashion show of all the clothes you picked out and Max can’t keep his eyes off his beautiful girlfriend and how radiant you look.

Charles Leclerc

Nothing says Charles like a date on his boat in Monaco. He takes such pride in his country and would want to show you the most beautiful views of the city from the perfect vantage point of the sea. He would make sure every detail of your boating day was planned and perfect. You would stay together on the sea until the sun went down and you could stargaze while laying on the boat’s deck.

Carlos Sainz

Carlos likes the focus to be on you during dates, as it is not often you two get to spend a lot of time together. He prefers to keep dates simple so he can keep his attention on you and really connect with each other. A coffee shop date would be a perfect time for you and Carlos to really connect and share your love for each other. It would be super cute and you would beg Carlos to come back to the shop again the next day.

Lewis Hamilton

He would want nothing but the best for the two of you and would splurge to get you both a private table at a fancy vegan restaurant in the city. You would have great and meaningful conversations over delicious food and drinks. Lewis would make it a night to remember and you would have a romantic walk around the city at night after you had finished your meal.

Daniel Ricciardo

Danny is a very adventurous person and always loves taking you to new and exciting places. You would go on a hike date together to spend some quality time in nature. Daniel and you would laugh and have fun making your way down the trail and would enjoy each other’s company to the fullest. At the end, a scenic sunset picnic would finish off the night and you and Daniel would have memories for life.

Yuki Tsunoda

Yuki is as passionate about food as he is about spending time with you. He would take you on a tour of his favorite restaurants around the city and show you where to find all of the best sushi. You would stay out together long into the night, savoring each other as well as the flavors. Finally, Yuki would take you to the top of one of the buildings with the best views and you would share a romantic moment high above the rest of the city.

Alex Albon

There is nothing you and Alex like more than spending a day together at the beach. There would of course be moments spent together on the shore, sipping drinks or spent watching the sunset at the end of the day. The most fun, however, would be swimming in the water together, having splash fights and being goofy together in the sea.

Logan Sargeant

You and Logan had been reminiscing about going to the fair as a child, so how perfect would it be to take a trip together? Logan and you spent time together on the Ferris Wheel along with the Tilt a Whirl, laughing when you were dizzy getting off of the ride. The night would finish with a funnel cake and both of you trying your best to win one of the giant stuffed animals from a game that both of you were pretty sure was rigged against you.

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 preference #oscar piastri x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #alex albon x reader #logan sargeant x reader #max verstappen x reader

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setsugekka · 1 year

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❥8 degrees (m)

↳ hyunjin loves so many things about you, and your willingness to placate his adventurous streak is certainly one of them.

hwang hyunjin x fem!reader — established relationship, explicit sexual content [2,3k wc] cws: penetrative sex (unprotected), hyunjin has a big dick, exhibitionism, dirty talk/praise, soft & they are in love.

Hyunjin liked having you in places he had no business taking you.

You always knew it was kind of his thing. It started as a quickie at home knowing the guys were coming home within the hour, and as time went on, Hyunjin kept cutting it closer and closer to their projected arrival time until eventually they did come home during a romp in the sheets together. The two of you weren't walked in on and no one was none the wiser - but you suspect that scenario changed Hyunjin in some way. Sometimes kinks have a funny way of unmasking themselves, even if by accident.

Then it was the dance studio one late Thursday night that he was practicing by himself. You brought take out and some small iced coffees knowing he was intending on making it a long night but you apparently didn't have any concept of exactly how long. The thought comes and goes quickly while he has the front of you pressed against the cabinet; clammy, sweaty fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

And there was also the time in the van - the van you have no business ever being in for any reason at all but a text from Hyunjin asking you to come help him bring some things in turns into legs dangling off of his marginally toned arms, teeth grinning into the skin on your neck.

So now, when you're asked to accompany Hyunjin anywhere, in the back of your mind you know what to expect.

"Oh good, you're right on time," Hyunjin says, darting up from his chair and getting the door from behind you as you carefully set all of the numerous items in your arms onto any available table space. "You should have called me to come down" he adds, watching you struggle with your hands full.

"Nah it's fine, I had it," you answer, shaking blood flow back into your appendages and looking up at him, "so how's it going?"

"Good, fine...I mean, it's going."

"So not particularly good or fine then."

"Yeah, not really."

He'd been working on something of his own for a few months now, and spent many a late night in the studio alone on top of all of the other responsibilities he had. In the beginning, he allowed you to accompany him, but as time went on and his inability to finish his project became stifling, the excuses for why you shouldn't come became more and more common, and less and less truthful. It was shame, and you knew that - you just didn't know how to fix it.

You leapt at the chance, when he finally invited you back.

Hyunjin sits back down in the chair, surprisingly large and spacious for just being a rolling desk chair - but suppose that is the luxury life of a successful entertainment company. You watch the way he stares daggers into the screen in front of him, a display of colorful lines and numbers and gadgets everywhere that you were sure you were never going to understand the intricacies of. Watch the way his eyes dart around as if trying to read actual words on a page but in an entirely differently language he was unfamiliar with. His arms cross. He looks sexy, and you feel a little bad for thinking that because you know he's struggling in the present moment but you can't help it.

"You should eat, babe."

As if your words break him from a trance, he seemingly snaps back to present day - raising an eyebrow toward you and rolling himself over to where you sit on the couch off to the side of him.

"I'm not too hungry, I’ll eat later."

"Hyunjin…" It's more of a disappointed, sort of accusatory tone than you meant, because you know he doesn't need the guilt of upsetting you on top of everything else. "Please, make sure you take time to eat tonight."

"I will, I promise," he responds, slightly pouting towards you and setting his chin down into his palm. "Come here, I missed you."

You set your styrofoam take out box to the side, carefully wiping your mouth with a napkin before making your way over to him. Hyunjin pulls you into his lap - legs to the side and wraps both arms around you and yours, squeezing you tightly before dipping one of his hands down to the hem of your dress. "It's 8 degrees outside tonight," he says questioningly, with lips pressed into your shoulder, and fingers slipping under the aforementioned hem to toy with the smooth skin there under.

You kind of knew that the recording studio was on the proverbial list. You came prepared after too many evenings of fumbling with tight skinny jeans under time constraints.

"Turn around."

Hyunjin's voice has already dropped when he whispers the words into you, huskier and more serious than he had been the moments before when he was teasing you about the temperature outside - allowing you to stand for just a moment before seating yourself back onto his lap with a leg dangling on either side of his now and arms circled around his shoulders. He doesn't waste time pulling you into him, pressing plush, pink lips into yours a bit harder than you expected for how early into the evenings activities you thought you were - but it appears that Hyunjin had every intention of hurrying things along - carefully gnawing at your bottom lip as his hands make their way to your behind, pulling the fabric of your dress up and away only to make another discovery that actually takes him so far back he physically pulls himself from you to look at you.

"No panties?"

It's almost a gasp, you like that look on him. You'll have to elicit that again somehow.

But you simply smile and pull him into you again, to which he happily - and much more hungrily this time - obliges. Hyunjin firmly plants his palms onto your ass again, this time digging blunt fingernails in to pull you closer against him and you can feel that his erection is already pressing into the confines of his sweat pants - and now your exposed core. Your lips part from his and exhale a breathy moan into his and he takes a moment to simply watch the way you fall for him all over again - his eyes darting all across your face just as they had been on the screen only minutes prior but this time he's taking you in - all of your best attributes and expressions and sounds.

You know this is his element, and you know he can't hold out too long.

"Stand up," he whispers, lightly nudging you to stand up off his lap but only long enough and with enough space for him to slide his pants down to his thighs and expose himself - pulling you back down quickly by the waist. He watches as you hover over him, the fabric of your dress bunched up in your fists to each side of your hips as if doing the lewdest curtsey before descending down onto his length.

Hyunjin doesn't pull you down into a seated position - he knows better. He's very aware of how big his cock is - length in particular - being an issue on occasion, and the lack of foreplay this evening not helping matters. He simply holds you by the waist, in place, until you take it upon yourself to move.

Feeling full was an understatement. You enjoyed watching his face as you excruciatingly slowly made your way down his shaft, centimeter by centimeter sinking onto him knowing he desperately wants you to take every inch right then and there but also reveling in knowing that you can't - that most people can't. It turned both of you on knowing how big he was.

"Please move." Is the first thing out of his mouth, and you're not fully in a seated position yet for all of the previously mentioned reasons, but you pull off of him slightly so that you can press back down him - despite the fact that the weight and motion on your thighs burns only a few movements in - it's worth it to watch the way Hyunjin comes undone beneath you, fingers digging into your skin again and now actually trying to pull you further down onto his cock - because he feels like he's going crazy. Because he feels an inhuman desire to be bottomed out in you in that moment. "Can you take it?" he whispers into your mouth, wrapping lithe arms around your body to slowly pull you the rest of the way onto his length, and you brace yourself for what might be evening-ending pain if you're not ready for it yet. He watches every movement your face makes as he does so - carefully holding you in place and taking you in as he seats you flush onto his lap - finally able to bottom out inside of you - and it's a sigh of relief for both of you instead of a disastrous yelp and end to the fun of the night (which isn't foreign to either of you, either.)

"See baby? You can take me," Hyunjin groans into your collarbone, ever so slightly angling his hips up and pressing even further into you than what flush on his lap grants. It hurts - slightly. It hurts in the same way that feels intriguingly good - teetering on the edge of excruciating. He pulls out only a few centimeters before pushing back up and into you - a slow and hard grind again - using the strength and leverage he has on your body to pull you onto him as much as he can. He whispers into your skin again, "you take me so well, you're taking it all," and it's the way that his voice sounds when he's so desperate for your body and the release you'll grant him that causes your walls to clench around him. And he notices. Taking the opportunity to pull you down with more of his strength again.

At no point is he necessarily fucking you - at least, not in the typical sense that someone would expect when hearing the phrase. Hyunjin is testing you. Hyunjin is seeing how much of him you can take and how far he can go before you have to tap out. It's definitely a power move - an ego thing, but you're happy to oblige because having him inside of you like this is absolutely heavenly.

It's almost involuntary, the way your hands press down and against his thighs in an attempt to create distance between the head of his cock and your cervix, but the pressure he applies to your insides makes you relentlessly milk his length even with little movement, and he feels every throb of your needy cunt - kissing and smiling into your neck and chest as he continues to ever so carefully pull your tiny body onto all of the inches that under normal circumstances you may never expect to be able to take into your body - but the way your pussy aches for him to move, sopping wet around him despite barely any actual stimulation to you tells the both of you that Hyunjin must be a perfect fit after all.

"Hy-Hyun-" you finally manage to whimper out, trying to get leverage to grind into his lap or against something that will give you actual friction despite the fact that he has you firmly wrapped into his arms, and he realizes immediately.

"I know baby," he answers, dropping his arms from you and allowing his hands to rest gently onto your hips in the event that he'll need to help. You quickly begin moving - and it's a slow pace at first but not for long at all - the previous stimulation surprisingly doing a number on your desperate need to cum. You grind into his lap hard, quick, pretty fingernails clawing into his shoulders in an attempt to receive the leverage you need to get yourself there and Hyunjin simply watches in awe - bottom lip pulled between his teeth and the occasional moan escaping from him. You moan his name again - sort of - as much of it as you can get out and he snaps to attention, pulling himself forward with chest against your own, hands now pulling your hips harder into his lap than before in an attempt to help get you there.

"H-hand, fuck," is all you can get out before you drop your head back but it's all the direction he needs, bringing his dominant hand around to the front of you and pressing sloppy, aggressive circles into your clit - desperate to watch you cum and much to both of your surprise it doesn't take long - much less time than usual - before he hisses a cuss as he feels your cunt vice grip his cock as you cum into his lap, desperately trying not to cry out but failing in somewhat spectacular fashion. You'd have thought that you would be better at fucking in public spaces by now but turns out you might only be getting worse at it. Hyunjin snaps you back from the noise concern, taking your hips into his hands with a rigid grip of his own and fucking you hard through your orgasm while also chasing his own and it doesn't take him much either - "fuck, fuck, I'm-" but the words are choked back from ever leaving his lips, one of his arms coming up your back and gripping onto your shoulder from behind to give him the leverage he really wants to fuck his cum into you the way he desires to, and you feel every stroke and throb as he releases deep - once again pulling you down to take absolutely every bit of him that you can into yourself.

It's a few moments of heaving chests and heavy breaths before Hyunjin finally lets go of you and allows you to create any sort of space between the two bodies, half-lidded, completely fucked out eyes eventually finding your own, and he only smiles before leaning forward and resting his head lazily on your chest.

"I'll eat now."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask (⌒‿⌒) —this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2. i think this is one of the first things i ever wrote nearly three years ago lol

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lovemyavatar · 1 year

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Push

Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Summary: you love teasing the Olo'eyktan's oldest son, but how much will he let you push before he snaps?

Warnings: childhood friends to rivals to lovers, angst, slight enemies to lovers but they're just dumb, (aged up) nsfw, kinda dom Neteyam, inexperienced reader, p in v

Pull, Equilibrium

It started when you were young.

Your infatuation with Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan came on hard, and swift.

It was your fifth cycle around the moon. A group of children came together to play and fish in a small pond. Neteyam, though only a year your senior, was much more skilled than any of you. One of the perks of being the future Olo'eyktan.

He showed you how to hold the line, how to feed the bait onto the carved hook. When you failed time and time again, he waited until no one was looking, and shoved his own fish into your hands. He pulled them up over your head, declaring that you had the first catch of the day.

You beamed, an expression that was reserved only for him for the next several years.

He was a pillar in your life. Always there, a gentle teacher when things were hard. He coached you for weeks before you tamed your own Ikran. Helped you master the bow. Supported you at your coming of age ceremony. Painted your skin with traditional warriors paint before missions. He was your rock, providing stability at every turn.

Until...he wasn't.

One day, as if a flip simply switched, he became cold. When you returned from hunting parties, he was no longer on the sideline waiting. He avoided you around the village, turning the opposite direction if he saw you coming near. If you managed to hold his attention for even a few seconds, he exchanged pleasantries and quickly excused himself.

Your best friend was gone. Just like that.

You had no idea what was going on. Nothing had happened, no fight, no betrayal, nothing you could think of that would tear him away so swiftly. From that day on you tried your hardest to break through the newly formed wall between you.

When he sat alone weaving, you would occupy the space beside him and talk until he responded politely. If he was going on an adventure with his siblings, you'd ask to join, knowing at least one of them would agree. You'd wait around outside his family tent, ready to trail him to wherever he was going.

That is, until one day, when he returned from a hunt and told you how he really felt.

“Eywa, will you just stop?” He turns abruptly, making you lurch to a halt in order to avoid ramming into him.

“What—I don't understand, 'Teyam. Did something happen—” A hopefulness shakes your voice. Hope that it isn't you. That something happened on the hunt to make him so irritated.

“You're so annoying, always following me around.” His hands gesture harshly, anger tightening his face. “Don't you have any friends to bother?”

You simply stood before him, gaping for several long moments. By the time the words processed, he'd already fled with a rough breath. That was the day things really changed between you.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a reason for the sudden shift. His parents, always thinking of the future, had told him a mate would be chosen for him soon. He would be the next Olo'eyktan, after all, and the pairing must be suitable for the prosperity of the clan.

They chose you.

From that moment, you became more than a friend. You became an obligation. Another addition to the long list of expectations his parents piled onto his shoulders. He crumbled under the weight, directing his spite to you since he couldn't show disrespect to his elders. It ate at him, the way he treated you, but the damage had already been done.

At first, you were sad. Many tears were shed over the situation. Many lonely nights spent at the secret spots the two of you had once frequented. Then, you got angry. Who was he to abandon you without reason? Without explanation?

So, you did what any vengeful woman would do and decided to get even.

You decided you would get his attention one way or another. Several methods proved successful. When you challenged him, his eyes would zero in on you, something dark flickering behind the glowing yellow. If you bested him, he'd huff and stalk off, shoulders tense. But if you teased him? That really got the reaction you were looking for.

He'd challenge you to races, and you'd win nearly every time, never wasting an opportunity to gloat.

“Oh, you were so close. Maybe next time.” Your voice is sickly sweet as you release your queue from your Ikran, feet hitting warm stone.

Neteyam lands a moment later, quickly dismounting his own beast. He turns on you, chin dipped, eyes hooded as they slice through yours harshly. “You cheated.”

“Don't be jealous just because I know a shortcut.” A huff falls from your lips as you smooth a braid away from your face.

“You always do this.” Fists clench at his sides, mouth slanting into a deep frown.

“Do what? Beat you?” You blink up at him innocently, and he seethes.

He seemed to always get angry if you put yourself in harms way, scolding you just as he would his siblings.

“You should not be so stupid.” He points a finger directly in your face, shoulders hunched with tension.

“You should not be so uptight.” You mimick his stance, poking a finger into his broad chest.

He growled, actually growled, the sound sending a flutter from your stomach to the heat between your legs. He took a step toward you, hand extending before he thought better and pulled it to his side.

“Be more careful, or next time I will tell your father.” He stalks off in a huff, leaving you to smirk victoriously to yourself.

After some testing, and pushing, you realized that nothing riled him up quite like the sight of you with another man.

You used this to your advantage, waiting until he was in view to share a few lingering touches or soft glances. You never took it too far, knowing it wasn't fair to give anyone the wrong idea. Your actions were innocent enough, but still, they made his blood boil.

He noticed every touch, every smile, every tiny little interaction. He was constantly distracted by it. Hearing the way the other men talked about you, that was hard enough, but seeing it right in front of him? It was almost too much to bear.

The moment he'd had enough came just after your twentieth birthday celebration. The entire clan came together to dance and sing, lifting you up in prayer for a good future. He was looking for you toward the end of the party, eyes flicking over the crowd. He was about to give up, go back to the family tent for the night, when he heard you.

His gaze snapped to the edge of the forest. You emerged with a burst of melodic laughter, head thrown back in joy. You weren't alone. One arm dragged behind you, fingers entwined with another's. Instantly, he saw red, his vision blurring until that small connection was the only thing in sight.

He stalked toward you without hesitation, something pulling at his heart when your smile dropped.

“A word?” He barks the order, giving you no time to protest as he rips your hand free and drags you back into the trees.

“Neteyam, what's going on?” Your voice is breathless as you lurch forward, trying to keep up with his brisk pace.

He doesn't stop until you reach a secluded section of the forest, surrounded by glittering foliage. He turns on you, quickly dropping your hand.

“What were you doing with that boy?” The question is ground out through a tight jaw.

You stumble back in surprise. “I don't see how that's any of your business.”

“When someone touches you, it is my business.”One large step closes the distance again. “Did he touch you, Y/N?”

“I—” This dance continues, you moving back and him advancing, stalking you like prey. “I don't—”

“Answer the question.” His voice drops, the raspy demand making you swallow thickly, something fluttering deep in your stomach. The intensity of his eyes burns through you.

You don't stop moving, walking backward until rough bark presses into your spine. Neteyam meets you there, looming over you from only a few inches away.

“No.” The response isn't as firm as you would've liked, your voice wobbling with some unknown emotion.

“No, he didn't touch you?” He tilts his head down to meet your eyes, one hand moving up to rest against the tree above your head. “Or no, you won't answer?”

You lift your chin in defiance, gaze locking with his in silent challenge. A sudden brashness wafts through you. “Why does it matter?”

“Y/N, I swear...” His jaw clenches so hard he fears he might crack a tooth. He doesn't even sound like himself, breathing ragged and voice deep.

“What are you gonna do, mighty warrior?” A smirk tilts the corner of your lips, seeing how worked up you've gotten him.

He growls darkly, free hand moving to wrap around your throat. Your eyes widen in surprise, a gasp parting your lips just before he connects them with his. He isn't gentle, lips slanting over yours as he takes the final step forward to eliminate any remaining space between you.

With his chest pressed against yours, you feel the rapid cadence of his heart. You can't help but instantly respond, stomach dipping. A pathetic sigh echoes from the trees, your hands lifting to wrap around his thin waist.

“This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He rips his lips from yours, instead moving to litter your neck with sloppy kisses. Your head all but slams against the tree as you throw it back in ecstasy. “You push, and push, just waiting for me to break. Isn't that right?”

A ragged moan falls from parted lips as sharp fangs nip at your skin.

“Say it.” He demands, moving back to pin you in place with a heated glare.

“Yes, yes.” You cage his face between your hands, pulling him back in.

Your lips slot together perfectly, moving in a feverish frenzy. He hums against you, knee knocking into yours to force your legs apart. He pushes his leg up, wedging his muscular thigh between yours.

He groans as your heat warms his skin, covering the sound of your desperate gasp. In an instant he grips your wrists, pining them above your head with one hand while the other moves to rip your loincloth from your hips.

“Is this okay?” He asks a moment too late, but you're too delirious with desire to care. Your head bobs quickly and he wastes no time in reconnecting your lips.

He holds you in place, strong thigh supporting your weight as you begin trembling. Your hips rut against his strong thigh, seeking friction. A broken sound pours into his mouth when his smooth skin catches your clit. Your core pulses with want, aching to be filled.

You've never felt like this, so out of control with desire. You don't know exactly what's going on, just that you need something. Anything to satiate this feeling. A tightness swells in your lower belly. Neteyam groans against you when he feels your slick against his leg.

He can't wait any longer, trailing a feather light touch down the column of your throat, your chest, your stomach, until he reaches the place he wants to be most.

“I need to stretch you, yawne (beloved).” He warns, just before a finger tentatively prods at your entrance.

You cry out against the foreign feeling, though the digit slides right in without protest. You tremble against him, feeling the walls of your pussy clench around the intrusion.

“‘Teyam!” You use the nickname that hasn't passed your lips in years, head tilting back as he gently thrusts his finger a few times.

“Yeah, that's right.” He grumbles, chest tight with emotion, adding another digit. “Say my name, sevin (pretty).”

“‘Teyam, ‘Teyam, ‘Teyam!” You cry out with each languid push against your sex, hips rocking to force him deeper.

He grunts against your neck, forehead pressed into you for support. He's painfully hard beneath his loincloth, hips rutting into yours shakily. He could cum from this, the noises you're making pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

He adds a third finger, and you wail pathetically, the pleasurable sting unlike anything you've felt before.

“‘Teyam, need you, please.” You don't care that you're begging, that he's gotten the best of you in this situation. You just need him to quench this desire, this emptiness suddenly fluttering your insides.

“Fuck, Y/N. You're not ready yet.” His voice is guttural, tormented with the wait, but he needs to make sure he won't hurt you.

You groan in protest, ripping your hands free of his loose hold. He's momentarily stunned as you undo his loincloth in record time. Your fingers wrap around his length, and he mewls. His hips snap forward, broken noises rumbling against your shoulder.

“Now, Neteyam.” You demand, angling his tip at your entrance.

“Shit, yawntutsyip (darling), wait.” His fingers leave you, but you barely have time to register the way your pussy clenches before he hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his hips.

He carries you a few steps to a clearing and gently lays you down, back now pressed against soft grass. You smile up at him as he leans over you, fingers soothing over his cheeks.

“Hi.” You whisper, eyes glittering under the eclipsed sun.

“Hi.” He can't help but grin, heart soaring at the position. He finally has you the way he wants, the way he's always wanted but was too stupid to realize.

“Ready?” He grips his pulsing cock and lines it up to you, gaze boring into yours to make sure.

“For you, always.” Your arms wrap around his neck languidly, pulling him in as he gently eases inside you.

Your back bows from the earth, chest pressing into his. He releases a ragged breath, eyes pinching at the way you're squeezing him. Slowly, slowly, he presses on until he bottoms out, tip nestled tightly against your womb.

“Neteyam…” You whimper, brows pinched, unsure what you’re even asking for.

“I know, baby, I know.” He coos gently, fingertips pushing stray braids from your forehead. “Gonna move now, okay?”

“Please.” You nod vigorously, legs tightening around his hips in encouragement.

“Fuck.” The curse slips past tight lips as he pulls out, slowly pressing back in to test the feeling.

“More, more.” Your head thrashes, the sensation too much and not enough all at once.

His forearms press into the dirt, caging you in as they support his weight. He grits his teeth, restraint tightening his chest. “Don’t want to hurt you, yawne (beloved)."

You groan with frustration and decide to take matters into your own hands. With your legs, still wrapped tightly around his hips, you twist harshly. The two of you roll to the side, Neteyam’s back hitting the ground with the force of the movement.

Wide eyes meet yours in surprise, the expression quickly morphing into one of pure ecstasy as you pull back until his cock is nearly all the way out before slamming back down.

“Fuck, Y/N, wait—” Fingers clamp around your hips to force you still.

Your core rolls forward, grinding your clit just how you need against him. You’re a moaning, stuttering mess, blubbering on top of him. Hands move to press into his strong stomach, stabilizing your efforts.

“Oh, Eywa.” His eyes roll back, hands going slack to allow you more freedom. He’s gone, all composure forfeit under the need to cum, the need to make you cum.

He slides a hand to your front, thumb pressing into your clit gently. You let out a ragged, broken noise, and he circles the digit, needing to hear it again.

“‘Teyam! I—I think…” Breath catches in your throat, muscles tensing around him. Something swells in your lower belly, an unfamiliar but incredibly pleasurable feeling.

He growls, the friction sending his pulsing cock closer to the edge. “Atta girl, come on. Cum for me.”

In an instant you’re frozen, pussy clenching hard until it gushes around him. You scream, the sound echoing through dense trees as you tremble with the force of your orgasm. Your back bows, bringing your closer to him as he lurches upright to take a nipple into his mouth.

“Y/N—I’m gonna—can I?” It's a desperate plea, the last bit of restraint he has left used to hold off his impending orgasm.

You nod quickly, arms encircling his head. “Yes, yes. Fill me up, yawnetu (love).”

He ruts against you, spilling into your core with a rough growl. His fangs nip at your neck, not hard enough to draw blood but to leave a little sting. He pulls you tight against him, arms crossing around your back.

Ragged breaths fill the forest as you both settle into stillness. Your fingers rub gentle circles into the back of his neck, his own smoothing down your sides. You feel the quick thrum of his heart against yours as he twitches inside you, making you whimper pathetically into his ear.

He gently lifts you, pulling out, your core spasming against the movement. He lays down in the grass, taking you with him, tucking you into his side and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. A contented sigh leaves your lips, eyes closing to bask in the afterglow for several minutes.

“You’re mine now, you know that right?” His voice is gentle, no authority behind the words, just speaking them as plainly as the truth.

You chuckle gently, nestling closer to his chest. “I’ve always been yours, ‘Teyam.”

#neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam sully fic #neteyam fic #neteyam sully smut #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam imagine #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully imagine #neteyam headcanons #neteyam x y/n #sully family #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar 2

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sweetracha · 11 months

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A little thought about minsung (because I'm obsessed with them): They're a couple and all, but don't mind spicing things up a bit in the bedroom. They see a cute fan they both like and decide to go for it. What could go wrong?

(I want to be destroyed by these two)

Minsung will be the death of me I swear

Pretty Kitty

Sugar Content: Spicy Sweet (SMUT!)

Allergy Warnings: Cocky Minho, Idols x Fan, Having sex with a fan, Pet names (mainly kitten/kitty), Dom Minho, Switch/Sub Han, Sub Reader (the dynamics are really just hinted at), Threesome, Training

Minho and Han seem like the perfect couple to the outside world. In many cases they are. The two seem like they were created from the same stardust. Two lovers destined to be together. Written in time as lovers who would always find each other. However perfect can get boring.

Perfect can become stale, flavorless, and taxing. This is especially true in the bedroom for Minsung. Don't get them wrong, they love their dynamic. They know every little thing that can make each other tick. They could map each other's bodies with their eyes closed and put 'x marks the spot' for every kink. Minho was a strong dominant top who was weak to praise. Han was a power bottom who had a special spot for humiliation. That's what was boring though. They missed the adventure and exploration of a new partner! They longed for that moment when you try something new and in return, you get the most earth-shattering moan from the body beneath you. They wanted, no NEEDED, a new playmate.

That's when they met you. Well saw you rather. Stray Kids were hosting another fan meet for the release of 5 Star. You had been a fan for years now and were finally going to have a chance to meet them, so what else would you do besides buying a whole new outfit? Dressed in a new baby blue sundress with matching shoes and hair bow you were off. It wasn't like you had a chance with any of them but this would feed your delulu for months to come.

You stood in line and waited for your turn to sit down with them one on one. The first seat you took was Chan's. He was sweet and calmed you down after he noticed your nervous fidgeting. Then was Changbin who gave you a huge smile and wink. You died inside as you two talked about all things food. Your time was cut much shorter than you would have liked but it wasn't for nothing as you were now faced with local sunshine, Felix. Brighter than ever he greeted you and chuckled a bit to himself.

"I think my Hyung will like you," he said light-hearted but deeply. Your heart flips at the thought, what could he be talking about?

Then your curiosity grew as both Seungmin and Jeongin teased. Saying Han was not ready for what is to come. They couldn't possibly mean you? Could they?

Hyunjin broke the ice and talked to you normally, well as normally as an idol could with a fan. It seemed fine until he ended it with a wink and a "Go get them".

Finally, you were with Han. The poor boy almost had a stroke when he saw you. An actual princess was in his presence. Even though he was the idol, he was the one left speechless. It wasn't until you gave a small 'hi' did he snap out of his trance.

"HI! Oh My God Sorry!! You are just very pretty--- I mean your dress looks really pretty on your body---I MEAN ON YOU!" he stuttered through the who conversation and you couldn't help but laugh. It warmed him knowing you were not offended. When the timer went off he locked eyes with Minho and they both nodded.

"Hello kitten," Minho said straight away, catching you off guard and making you choke. "Oh Shi-My bad!" he handed you his water. "Don't worry, I have more. He was right by the way you do look very pretty"

Your face blushed a crimson red as you tried to respond. "He um he said my dress was pretty"

"No pretty kitty, he said it was you" he so much as purred his sentence. "I think our time is almost up hun, what a shame. hmm if only we could speak longer, I think I've taken a liking to that pretty blush on your face." Minho leans closer so only you can hear. "See that door over there? We are going to have security lead you through those doors. You wait for us, nice and pretty." He couldn't help the dark chuckle that left him as he emphasized the word pretty again.

You sat on the sofa in the green room while your legs bounced with anxiety. This couldn't be real. You had to be dreaming. A sick beautiful twisted nightmare of a dream. To ease your mind you took in the site around you. There were little vanities around the room with ring lights and plush chairs. Obviously, this is where the boys got their makeup done. The walls were covered in thick padding, reminiscent of soundproofing you had seen before. They weren't going to kill you, were they? You had to chuckle to yourself…would it really be such a bad way to go?

Then your thoughts were snapped back to attention as the door in front of you creaked open. Lee Know walked in with the cockiness of a king. His stare warned you he was about to eat you alive. However, to your surprise, he was followed by a now very confident Han. No longer did he look lost and shy but rather planned and prideful. Lee Know took a seat on the coffee table in front of you and Jisung stood behind.

"Hello Kitten" It was like sweet intoxicating venom dripping from his lips when he spoke to you this way. "I see you followed through with my instructions. Good girl. See Sungie, I told you she would be a good girl. Unlike other little brats I know" Minho shot a death glare behind him.

"Come on Hyung, the poor thing is scared. She is practically shaking. Get on with it" Jisung whined, that brattiness starting to shine through.

"Honey no need to be scared" Minho reached out for your leg but stopped "Can I touch you?" All you could do was nod and he placed a gentle hand on your knee. He rubbed smooth calming circles into your skin as he spoke.

"Pretty we aren't going to hurt you. Quite the opposite. We want to please you in so many ways. If you let us have you we will treat you to a night of your dreams. We understand however if that is not what you want. We can have staff escort you back to your car and we will pretend nothing happened. Tonight is your decision love" The way he spoke with such care settled your nerves a bit. Han flashed you an adorable smile as he watched you think it over. You looked at the two and saw the genuine longing in their eyes. This was not an idol fucking a fan for power, this was something entirely different.

"I want this," you said with a shaky tone. Minho raised an eyebrow in question. "I want you both" you confirmed.

Minho immediately rose from his position on the table and picked you up, sitting back down on the couch with you on his lap. He faced you away from him however and when you opened your eyes you were met with Jisung just millimeters away.

"Kiss the pretty kitty baby boy, I know you've been wanting to" It was clear to you now the dynamic of this night.

Jisung looked at you for consent and when you nodded ever so slightly he leaned in. The kiss was soft and cautious at first but soon grew desperate and needy. His hands found your thighs and pawed at the soft skin, almost as if he was stopping himself from going any further.

"Look at my sweet boy. So desperate for a pretty girl in his life he is practically leaking by kissing one. How are you ever going to please her if you can't get passed kissing her?" Minho mocked

Han pulled back. "We both know damn well I can please her just as well if not better than you Hyung! Don't forget who was begging last night?"

Jisung challanged back. The heat and tension in the room became thick.

"You think you are so good at this don't you, you little brat. Fine, make her cum." With that Minho spread your legs and exposed your panties to Jisung. The boy couldn't help the blush climbing his cheeks. "Already overwhelmed, pathetic honestly" Minho spat. With that Jisung dove in.

He began with light testing licks to your cilt to gauge your reactions. When one soft touch pulled a pornographic moan from you, he got excited. Han began to put more pressure, strength, and texture into his licks. Then he began to leave suctioning kisses to it. That made you spasm in Minhos lap and close your thighs around Han's head.

"No way kitten, open them back up. Now!" Minho forcefully spread your legs open and hooked them over his own. "Such a sensitive pretty little thing. One touch has you shaking. Fuck I am so ready to explore you" he leaned in closer "to destroy you"

He gave Jisung a knowing look and before long two fingers were being shoved into you and scissored. The goal was to prepare you for something much bigger. You shook in place as Han continued his assault. His tongue and now nose attacked your cilt while three fingers hit deep in you. One particular trust had you throwing your head back on Lee Know's shoulder. His hand snaked around your neck while the other played with your nipple. "Baby boy, I think we found it"

That spot deep in you was being hit over and over with pleasurable force as Han brought you closer and closer to ecstasy. Before you were finished however Minho ripped his hand away. You both whined.

Han helped position you over the back on the couch and eased his way into you. He settled for a bit until you began grinding back on him, signaling you were ready. Jisung set a rhthmyic pace. Slow but hard thrusts, just the way you liked it. However, his movements were halted altogether as a screaming moan left his throat, followed by a whimper. You turned your head the best you could to find the Minho has entered Jisung, effectively training you all. The poor boy in the middle couldn't help the whimpers and whines that left him as Minho set a brutal pace. The whole scene along with the stimulation you were receiving was enough to bring you to your edge.

"Shhhhh both of you will get what you want. Han don't turn our good girl into a brat like you" Minho said while fishing his cock from his pants. "Hannie, fuck our kitten"

"Hyung, fuck Hyung! She is squeezing me so hard. I can't! Fuck I can't last!" Jisung cried out.

"Then fuck her like you mean it. You don't get to cum until she does" Minho pulled back so just the tip was nestled into Han. Jisung gripped your hips with the power he had left and rammed into you. No longer were his thrusts thought out, they were driven by pure nature. As he withdrew from you he would be forced back down Minho's cock. A familiar sensation built in your body and you needed that final push to release it.

"Cum for us pretty girl. Cum for us." and with that you came hard on Han's cock. You were so out of it that you didn't notice that Han pulled out and finished on your ass. When you came too, Minho was clean, what you assumed was his cum, off of Jisung. You were already cleaned up and dressed in some merch they found. Time was running out for you all to be together so Minho had to make quick but efficient work of his aftercare. Staff escorted you to your car where you sat for a bit and thought about what just happened. You reached into your pocket to grab your keys when you found a little slip of paper.

"Our pretty kitty,

Call us when you get home. We want to talk about this arrangement further.

From, your two biggest fans."

#skz #stray kids #stray kids smut #skz smut #sweetie of the bakery #lee know x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #lee know smut #minsung smut #minsung x reader

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