#it will take to shift some minds on crime
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...A HOOKUP TURNED PARTNERSHIP!
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — synopsis ! A few dollars short and a ride to nowhere on the late-night train around Tokyo, Toji Fushiguro looks to his favorite website for a distraction: XXXHub. But when a flickering banner tells him he can make big bucks by meeting a woman barely a mile away, he’d led right to his door of fate, opened by you, a lonely widow with a heart-wrenching past...and heavy pockets. when toji sees an opportunity waiting to happen, he jumps right on with you as his partner in crime!
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — pairings! widow!fem!reader x toji fusiguro
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — cw! 9.2k, pwp, dubcon, mention/discussion of death, age gap (reader is 28, toji is 35), power play, grinding, nippľeplay, teasing, fingèring, oral(f. receiving), petnames, use of protection, p in v, whiny!toji
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — xoxo, chris! i lovedddd writing this! it was so much fun and i cannot wait to start this series!
m.list part two here!
“Damnit…’nother day and I’m still broke.”
It’s easy to say that Toji is stuck in a trance as his dead eyes are pinned to the bolded words in his palm.
CHECKINGS: XXXX
BALANCE: ¥ 0.45
The pad of Toji’s thumb has yet to leave the screen of his phone, the illuminated screen shouting back at him. He’s dragging along the cracked surface like he’s looking for something—something that would change his life right at that moment.
He’s so ingrained in his search that he’s managed to drown out his current reality—seated on the empty late-night train tracing around Tokyo with only himself to claim as baggage. He’s even got earbuds in too, though the only sound in his ears is the tugging clash of the train running along the tracks.
He pulls the hand braced along his knee to comb the messy black crown of his hair, brushing back thick strands away from his strained eyes.
It’s a hard pill to swallow and the only urge Toji has at that moment is to spit it out and crush it beneath the heel of his black leather work boots. But for now, he’s settling for the warmth of the train cart for peace of mind.
Toji leaned back into his seat, tugging at the gray fabric of his thermal bunched along his chest. His eyes shift from his phone to anywhere other than his despairing reality, only to catch his reflection in the train window.
It’s a sight to take in—his fair skin smooth and polished, his black hair frazzled due to his touch. There wasn’t a lick of hardship to be found within his visage—all except for his eyes, of course.
His once vibrant azure hues now mimic that of the night sky. He’s alive on the outside but akin to that of a zombie within his soul. In his very seat, he’s sitting there dead to himself and dead to his surroundings. So much potential burns at the palm of his hands but opportunities have yet to appear to Toji. So much time and years have passed, and not a single one caught up to him to reap some reward. He could sit here and think about all of his life choices, but he knew better than to dwell on what couldn’t be fixed.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t pout for a minute, though.
“What a life…” he utters, bringing a hand to wipe over his tired features, leaving the rough thick tips of his fingers to pinch along the bridge of his nose.
“How did I get here? Strapped for cash and livin’ on the lam…just perfect.”
Toji knew one thing though—he needed a get-rich-quick scheme quickly. Not for millions, just enough to get him by and afloat.
His eyes settled back onto the blackened screen of his phone, racking through his brain to decide what could ease his monetary woes: XXXHub.
No matter his mood, Toji can always count on his favorite porn site to brighten his mood. All he needed was a quick peek at the newly uploaded filth that awaited him.
His thumbs went to work, clicking on one of the bookmarks to bring him to XXXHub’s homepage. The grin that glows upon his features is devious but the thoughts that swirl his brain surpass all curls of his mouth. He was already scrolling through the categories, deciding which one would be his sin for tonight…that was true until a certain blinking red banner beneath the website’s logo caught his regard.
“FUCK A LONELY LADY AND GET PAID TODAY! SHE’S 0.7KM AWAY!”
“Hm…” he mumbles through a tightened pout. “Is that all I gotta do for a quick dump of cash?”
The title piques Toji’s attention, earning a sharp arch of his brow. In better days, he knew better than to click on links like this, but with the reality he’s living in, the risk of a virus is worth it.
And so…he did it. His thumb—without a lick of hesitancy in sight, clicks upon the blinking banner, navigating him to a home page of profiles and a lengthy explanation.
“Fuck a pretty lady right now! These women are all lonely and can’t please their poor pussies anymore :( They’re all alone and begging for your cock! So scroll down and pick whose bed you’ll end up in tonight!”
Toji merely shrugs his shoulders as he begins his search, his eyes scanning through the first page of profiles. He taps, he huffs, and he flips through all the options, eagerness bubbling deep within his belly. How could he choose between all the pretty faces, the perfect tits, and racy lingerie?
“God these women are perfect! She’s got a cute face…that’s a nice ass…and oh…who’s this? She’s a real pretty broad,” Toji drones as he taps the profile.
He couldn’t explain it, the sudden gravitation to the woman on his screen. She has a single picture on her profile—a mirror picture of her in a black silk robe. Whatever expression she wore was hidden behind the sleeved arm of her robe, leaving just her eyes to view. Her hues told Toji a different story, a look of innocent doe eyes pawing on his heartstrings. This—this site, this kind of exposure wasn’t her cup of tea. She isn’t like the other hundreds of other women who had their legs spread first for the camera. In search of learning more about his new beau, he lingers down on the woman’s biography, his lips reading the words aloud.
“I’m Y/N, 27 years old, and a widow. My husband died a few years ago…that got dark real fast…and I haven’t had a man in my life since. I’m not looking for anything serious, just for the night. If interested, please call the number below and…I’ll be paid handsomely?!?”
“I’m handsome…and she’s gonna pay handsomely?!… She’s mine!”
That last sentence is all Toji had to read before sending his fingers to race across the screen. He simply had to take up the deal before anyone else did. If all he had to do was fuck a pretty girl for his account to finally see a change, he would’ve done it years ago.
Toji flipped between apps, punching in each digit of the phone number carefully. A set of sweaty palms and a shaky grip soon creep over him. Nervousness, something Toji hasn’t felt in years. Him? Nervous to call a woman? He didn’t know what to expect, whether he’d be welcomed by the mere sound of his voice. Should he try to sound different? It’s a long shot but with his pockets running on empty, anything’s worth trying.
With a heavy chest, Toji gave the phone number a series of checks to make sure he got every digit right before clicking the awaiting green button of fate. Bringing the phone to his ear, Toji brought his attention to his reflection once more, taking in the reality of his choice.
One ring. Two rings. Three—
“Hello?” The voice purrs into Toji’s ear.
His grip on the phone grows heavy, the color of his skin fading to a ghostly white. Toji swallowed down the lump in his throat, searching for the words to begin his first impression.
“Hey! I’m calling for the ad on uh…phew…XXXHub…I just wanted to see if you were willin’ to…y’know…have me for the night?”
All Toji can hear is the sharp huff of your breath before his question gets an answer.
“I’ll text you the address. If you can be here in the next 30 minutes, I’ll add 10,000 yen to the overall pay.”
With that, the call went dead, leaving Toji with furrowed brows, widened eyes, and his mouth agape.
“She didn’t even ask for my name…she must be as crazy as me.”
Deep in thought, the flicker of a text message caught Toji’s eye.
(XXX)XXX-XXXX:
1o8 Minato-Ku, TO
I’m on the 45th Floor.
“Minato? She’s the next stop!” Toji rises to his feet upon the realization, his hand bracing around the steel pole for balance.
To his luck, the train slowed its pace to enter the station of Minato, the blur of the concrete platforms gaining clarity. The doors opened in time for Toji’s newly encouraged stroll as he planted his foot onto the yellow line. Excitement courses through his veins as Toji begins his perilous walk. He inhales the cool Tokyo night breeze, staring down his phone once more.
“Time to get rich ‘nd laid!”
1:14 A.M.
Your eyes stare at the digital numbers illuminating your phone screen. He called at one and in the fourteen minutes that’s passed, all you’ve done is roam about the penthouse living.
“He’s coming…he’s actually coming! I–”
“Uh Ms. Y/N?” a voice on the intercom interrupts your nervous ramblings. The call grabs your attention, urging you to walk towards the elevator doors. Your finger pressed against the red response button, prompting your reply.
“Yes?”
“You have a guest coming up. Says his name is Toji. He’s tall, kinda an off guy, but he’s real attractive, so…have fun!”
“Oh um…t-thank you!” You stammered, leaving your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. It was one thing to have a complete stranger come into your home—but to have your doorman wish you a fun night was one for the books.
Now, a mere few minutes stood between you and Toji— and the pummeling heartbeats flooding your senses didn’t begin to calm your nerves. Your eyes scanned over every inch of the living room, searching for some form of relief. The comfort of your space quickly calmed your racing mind–the polished red granite floor, the fluffy tan pillows, and white throw blankets covering the espresso-colored sectional, and the glimmering chandelier hanging over the glass coffee table in the center. Your eyes fell onto the mirror along the wall, scrambling steps pitting you before it.
“Okay…I look great,” you hum, scanning over your mirror’s reflection. A pink silk robe graced your body with a lacy black matching bra and panties hidden beneath.
You’re so invested in your reflection that the common ring of the elevator doors falls on deaf ears–until what followed brought your blood to a stilled run.
“This is a nice place! I’ve only seen these places on TV, never thought I’d be seein’ it in real life!”
Your arms dropped to your side, allowing for the white polished tips of your nails to grab at the hem of your robe. You turned around to greet him head-on, yet all the words you had for him weathered down to a few jumbled thoughts.
“Well…hello to you, too…what’s your name?”
He came to a standstill, turning around on his heels to meet you. His eyes widened in sheer awe at the sight of you, something he paired with a soft smile.
“Toji, oh and…Hi!” He announced, tugging his hand out of his pocket to wave. “You’ve got a nice home, Y/N.”
“Thanks…” you push off as you direct Toji towards the sofa, seating yourself at the opposing side of the coffee table.
“Please, have a seat. I didn’t think you’d get here so fast, I would’ve made tea or something to eat.”
“No need to do anything special for me, Pretty girl. You’re already helping me more than you know,” Toji grinned as he settled into the sectional, sitting opposite of you.
A sly smile grew across your lips as his words filled the air. You turned away to avoid his gaze but it wasn’t enough for Toji to ignore.
He leans back into the ribbed cushion of the sectional, his legs spreading apart to mirror his newfound comfort. As his arms stretch along the backing, Toji’s head fell into a tilt as he took in the full sight of you at last—glossy lips, smooth skin hidden behind that pesky robe he wishes you’d lose already, and all the curves he’s dying to get his hands on. But before he could, Toji knew he had to warm you up to some extent.
“So…I know y’re husband died, sorry ‘bout that. I bet he’s looking down at the pretty lady he left behind.”
You shrugged his courtesy off, “It’s alright. The pain’s washed away and I just keep moving on. Can’t dwell on it forever.”
"I feel ya, just keep on moving.”
“You…understand?”
”Lost my first and second wife…trust me, I know.”
A shrouding silence falls over you both, with just the subtle stifled breaths filling the tense air. Putting aside his wary means of kindness, you were finally able to gawk at the strange man you’ve allowed to enter your sacred world.
Your sights finally meet Toji’s, the two curious gazes softening with each passing moment. Per the doorman’s warning, Toji truly was attractive. Tall, black hair that fell just short to the curves of his ears, azure eyes perfect for the job of enchanting, and that scar along his lip piqued your interest in him more than it should. Just his demeanor alone—the blend of a bold, menacing confidence carrying a timid wave to wash over you.
Until Toji’s musing finally cuts the awkward tension in half.
“Y’know…I’m just thinking…this is a really nice place,” he notes as he stretches his thumb to graze along his jaw.
"Yeah, Toji, thanks, you said that already,” you huff.
"But listen, I’m thinking…why don’t we…extend our deal? Would you be willing to have me…past tonight?”
Your lips don a growing grimace, your eyes narrowing a taunting squint.
“That’s not what we agreed on.”
Toji’s hands immediately shot up in defense, waving the invisible flag of surrender.
“Yes, you’re right. But think about it, I’m a pretty clean guy—keep myself groomed if I do say so myself. ‘Nd I’d be here to fulfill any and all of your needs. I can even be your bodyguard! I know some creeps try to throw themselves at you—“
"Like what you’re doing right now?” You shot back, folding your arms against your chest.
All Toji conjures is a smirk, “Can’t be a creep if I’m here to fuck you, Pretty. But I like the sassy attitude….Like I was saying…I can just…protect you. Plus, you can take down that ad and save yourself the hardship of dealing with another me.”
“And how do I know you’ll be any good at pleasing me?”
That’s when a heavy scoff—dark, heavy, and accursed with scorn rang from Toji’s lips. It was almost your question just pricked at his pride, using his laughter to protect the endangered sanctum of his ego.
He broke away from your stare, leaving you to study him instead. He plows his palm to his chest, lazily dragging those rough digits of his to delineate along the hidden contours of his abdomen, right down to rest atop the peeking glint of his belt buckle.
“I told you to trust me either, didn’t I?” He rasped lowly. “I know your type and let’s just say it’s my weakness. I’m gonna please you, sweetheart. Just keep your end of the deal and we’ll be getting along.”
“Someone’s cocky, and what do you mean you know my type?”
"You’re doing too much talking,” he gripes, “And not enough thinking. I just offered to be your personal toy, what’s your answer gonna be?”
You hold back any thought to ridicule Toji further, your teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. He wasn’t playing around anymore, not with that blooming dark glint blending with the denim blue hue of his eyes.
“I’m assuming you still expect to be paid?”
“Naturally. I don’t need a fortune, just enough to stay afloat.”
The tips of your fingers drummed along the wrinkled leather cushion as you mulled over Toji’s demands. It wasn’t a bad deal, you both did gain something in the end. It feeds whatever he was looking for and it strangely calms some of your nerves. Maybe having Toji would finally ease your nerves about having a man around again. His conditions truly brought some security to you and your home—unless he planned on robbing you.
You give him one final glance over—hinging over his own tantalizing stare. A risk to say yes, but something told you it’d be a bigger risk to let him walk out once the time came.
”Fine,” you sigh, “ We have a deal, but the second I even sense that you’re crossing the line, you’re done.”
Toji lays his hand on his chest once more, huddled over his heart. “You have my word. I won’t do more than what you tell me. But now that we’ve struck a deal…I think we should celebrate.”
Toji pats at the empty spot beside him, the leather reverberating his taps softly into the air. “Anyways, don’t you wanna come sit…near me at least?”
“That’s..fair,” you agree, standing from your spot on the couch.
A few sauntering steps bring you to sit beside Toji, leaving just inches of space between you both. You couldn’t even begin to look at him, but the heat of his stare is harder to ignore. He’s taking you in, better than the cryptic profile photo online could ever present you.
The weight of the cushions shifted slightly as Toji leaned in towards you, finally fixing his sight over you entirely.
“This is your first time doing something like this, isn’t it?”
“No… What if I’m just quiet in nature?”
A gentle chuckle flooded Toji’s chest. “If you were naturally quiet, we wouldn’t be here right now. This isn’t your type of thing, I know. But hey…” Toji trailed off.
To lure your attention, he places an outstretched finger to nuzzle along the curve of your chin, forcing you to face him without room for interference.
“You’ve got me now.”
The scent of mint floods your nose, accompanied by the robust musk of a cologne. He was so close, and with the stare he voluntarily pulled you into, you had no choice but to bear him for all he was. A man with such flawlessly fair skin, seemingly invigorated with a refreshing glow. His brows were thin and groomed from what could be seen, hidden behind the fluffy onyx strands of hair. His lips were plump, brushed with a sheer coat of pink as he bared a faint smile towards you.
And right there on the corner of his mouth was a rough scar, a crude memory that now complements his charms; the same charm that struck you with awe. He barely had a hold over you, yet you were melting into his whims quicker than you could even begin to think.
Toji’s free hand came to lay along the curve of your thigh, his thick, calloused palm settling into the warmth of your supple skin. You study his hand carefully—his hand’s easily twice the size of your own, shaped by rough skin and faded scars. Though, Toji carries a gentle touch, so gentle that the nerves under your skin prickle with sheer anticipation. Your gaze flows from Toji’s hold, leading your sights to meet his own.
“This is a better look on you, Princess. Think we can get a little more comfortable?”
“I think we can do that,” you grin, freely leaning into Toji’s care. Your arms are quick to fold around the nape of his neck, leaving Toji to close the distance as he leads you onto his lap. His hands cup at the hem of your pink robe, the pads of his fingers teasing to slip beneath.
“You said you’re gonna be able to pleasure me, right? Then do it, I’m letting you take control,” the astute words rolling off your tongue.
“Oh, I like you already!,” Toji smirks, the scar on the corner of his lip curling.
His hands slipped from your back to the rich heft of your ass, his digits finally kneading at the silky plush. “Tell me what you like, or we can spend all night figuring it out together. It’s not like we’re rushing to go anywhere.”
Hearing Toji’s question brought a flickering heat to swarm your cheeks. But you’ve picked up on one thing thus far with Toji—he didn’t have a single care for what could be vulgar, or lewd—he just wants what’s real and raw.
“Um…well I like being touched…like what you’re doing now. I really like kisses, I-“
Toji nuzzles himself into your chest, his breath fanning over your skin.
“So…you like kisses like this?” His lips settle against the crook of your neck.
His efforts were nothing short of delicate, his lips painting peppering pecks about your skin like a brush to a canvas.
“J-Just like that,” you mutter, your hands bracing along the weakened collar of Toji’s shirt.
Your hands slip away from the nape of his neck to cup his face, gently prying him from his splayed mess of kisses. Within your hands, the cushions of your digits are careful to stroke along the contours of his jaw. But your touch wanders a little higher, hovering over his lips. The pad of your thumb sits along his bottom lip, wiping away the glossy sheen of spit.
Toji’s eyes remain on you, intrigued by your developing notion. His hands kept busy to ground his drifting mind, roaming about to brace your arching spine. The pit within his stomach churns with suspense, yearning for that fragile touch of yours to engulf him in a world far away from his own.
“What do you wanna do? Got my attention now, Princess.”
"Tell me what you like,” you croon with a winding smile on your lips.
The faint flare of rouge sprinkled across the highs of Toji’s cheeks, his swollen lips bearing a gaping ‘o’.
“Oh, you don’t gotta worry about me—”
“But I want to. So…I’m waiting to hear something.”
“Just making you cum is all I want. Don’t worry much about me, you hired me, remember?”
"That’s not the answer I want,” you brood with a pout.
"But that’s the answer you’re gonna get. Trying to spoil me, huh? ‘M not used to that these days,” he murmured as he pressed his pursed lips against your thumb.
“Guess I’ll just have to learn, I’m excited too though,” you smile.
"I’m not gonna make it—“
Before the next word could roll off his quipped tongue, you push a kiss onto Toji’s lips, your fading smile buried within the slew of lust.
You couldn’t have imagined Toji’s lips to be so soft against your own. He’s mimicking your every move, welcoming a fluid tide crashing the two of you. When you push, he pulls with just enough force to leave you chasing for more.
Your tongue swipes along his bottom lip, inducing a shy whimper to trickle from his throat. He tows you in that much closer, desperately trying to contain himself within your care. Your chest smothers against his, the laggard breaths filling his lungs.
He swiftly gave into you as your tongue slid over his. He couldn’t help it, greedily coiling the slicked flat around your own. It’s selfish to drag you into his sick urges, but with the way you fit in his hands, your lips dancing with his own, and god—your tongue rolling over his like a binding knot, apologies were nowhere near due.
In the heat of it all, you pull away for a moment’s breath—but not without sealing Toji’s tongue between your lips, suckling at the limp muscle.
Breaking away from the messy kiss you’ve fallen into, your thumb drums along Toji’s cheek, his eyes opening to reveal a lust-blazoned glow.
“Guess you like kisses too,” you chuckle, planting a peck along the highs of his flushed cheeks.
"Fuck, I can’t take it, where’s your bed?” he hounds, adjusting you in his hold. Toji lifts you with sinful ease, your legs instinctively lacing around his waist.
You bury your head in the crook of his neck, taking in the intoxicating
“It’s the door down the hall, you’re already staring at it.”
Your muffled words guide Toji down the dimmed hallway towards your bedroom door, nudging his knee at the agape door to expose the sanctuary of your bedroom.
“Wow, got a nicer room here than out there,” Toji marveled as he stood over the bed. He laid you down onto the plush white blanket, the shape of your body imprinting into the fluffy white weft.
“Thank you,” you smirk as you perch yourself onto your elbows, peeking up at Toji as he tends to himself. He works quickly to rip the gray henley shirt from his waist over the top of his head off and onto the wine-carpeted floor of your bedroom.
Toji’s hand sits along his stomach, wiping his broad digits across the defined cuts of his abdomen—earning a well-deserved gaze from your hungry eyes.
“Go on, I know you wanna touch me,” he hints as he dips his body over yours. You drop onto the bed, your hands pawing at the vast hull of Toji’s chest as he traps you beneath him. The sheer warmth of his skin lulls you further into his captivating hold. You found yourself in a hypnotic state the more your hands explored along Toji’s bare skin.
“I know that look—you like what you see, don’t you Angel?” Toji sneered as his fingertips reached out to your visage, stroking the back of his digits along your cheek.
“I-I don’t know what to say, I—“
"So...don't. Don’t say anything. Just…kiss me like that again…please,” Toji's puffy lips brushing against your own.
A weary grin teases your lips to curl as you nod, your arms encircling Toji’s neck. You oblige with a light peck before dragging him back down into the dizzying bliss he’s begging for.
Just an hour could have passed since Toji’s met you and already he’s bound himself to you just like that. He can’t understand why either—it’s just a kiss. Yet he can’t remember the last time when a kiss like this held him captive, wanting more with each passing second.
It’s just a kiss but he can’t bring himself to stop pouring pitiful whimpers when your tongues coiled around each other. It’s just a kiss and he’s losing himself to the flourishing desire you draw out from the depths of his being.
Well…almost losing himself.
His hand breaks away from the caress of your features, sending those heavy digits to drift across the silhouette of your body. His wandering touch made itself just shy of your panties, the lacy edge grazing against his fingers.
But he’s careful not to break the seal that barriers your navel from the heat between your legs. Rather, he finds himself crumbling what bits of fabric he can between his fingers tips, tugging the panties taut against your cunt.
A lewd wince breaks from your lips, and a smile cracks along his own.
“Aww, you like that?” Toji hums, “Think you’ve got something to tell me?”
You can only stare at Toji with a mouth wearing a witless gape as he continues to tease you, yanking at your panties with no end in sight. He’s lazy with it but that doesn’t mean it’s not without intent. He’s intending to work those thin panties of yours to slip past the fat lips of your cunt and fixing whatever friction he can build to drive right up against your poor clit.
Your hand races to find some way to end his selfish exposé, nails clipping into the worked bulk of his forearms. Yet the words you want to say to him come out in nothing but broken gasps and whimpers.
He’s leaving the comfort of your lips for something new, laying a trail of kisses down to your chest. Gently, he brings his free hand to your breasts, pushing away the annoying robe to slip his hand into the cup of your bra. You’re so soft, such delicate skin shouldn’t have been handled by a man such as he, but for the sake of pleasing you, he’ll ignore it for tonight.
He slowly guides the pillowy plush from behind the pesky bra, your tits sitting pretty for his sore eyes to take in. A sight just for him but he can’t help but drag that tongue of his past your nipple, smirking at how the decadent buds stiffen between his lips.
Toji pulls away with a lewd ‘pop’, overlooking your poor nipple twitches in the room’s cool air. He carries his fingers to draft along the curve of your tits, mindless strokes leading him to roll out the stiffened peaks for his ministrations all over again.
But he isn’t satisfied with this game, his brows furrowing into a knot. His hues shoot your tested stare—his eyelids heavy enough to squint but fluttering just enough for you to absorb the full intent behind his eyes.
“Oh, ‘m trying so hard to be nice, Y/N, swear I am. ‘Til you tell me what you want, just gonna keep teasing you,” he sings softly as he welcomes your nipple into the gummy hollows of his mouth once more.
”O-Okay okay, let me just—”
Toji’s impatient. He can’t wait for you to try and find the words, not when he knows they are sitting right there at the tip of your tongue. So he’s willing to help you draw it out—by using his own tongue to suck at suckling at the roused bud of your nipple as you speak.
”Wait, Toji ‘m trying!” You whine, tightening your grip along his forearm.
“Try harder...'m not the one making a mess.”
Your hand searches for his wrist, lithe digits binding around him. The hold he has over your panties loosens as you pull his hand to sink past the soiled cotton triangle at last.
“Please…touch me.”
A chuckle cracks within Toji’s throat, “That’s what I’ve been waiting for—Tch, really making me work for my pay.”
Without another word breaking into the air, Toji’s fingers work themselves into a sweeping whirl about your clit. He’s so soft, using a feather-like touch to ease the roused bundle of nerves into his trust.
He’s painfully tender from what his mouth leads on, leaving his fingers to drift past your fold and pinned to the stingy slit of your pussy. The tip of his digit pecks at your hole, coaxing your walls to accept his touch.
Bit by bit he’s slipping in, stuffing your pussy with the overwhelming girth of his digits. He reaches your sweet with disgusting ease, he would curse his luck if he wasn’t so focused on the cute faces befalling your face.
But there was one in particular that he’s fond of—your eyes rolling back into your skull, your swollen lips pursed onto a quivering frown. Your hands can’t seem to decide where to rest, both palms grasping onto his surging forearm—as if that was really enough to stop him.
“This is all you wanted, isn’t it, Princess? You aren’t that mean, just can’t use those pretty lil' hands of yours to touch yourself like you need to. Let me fix all that for ya,” he hums, pressing a kiss onto your cheek.
But Toji doesn’t just stop there. He’s reeling away from your side completely, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands bracing along the contours of your waist.
“C’mon, lift 'em up,” he coos, tugging at the elastic waistband trolling into your hips.
You bring a finger to sit against your lips, biting down on that digit as you follow his words.
The rough edges of your panties sting your legs as Toji pulls the gossamer cloth from its post at your hips and off onto the floor.
He drops to his knees, his hands cupping the supple underside of your thighs. Toji doesn’t give you the chance to retaliate or rebel, pushing your legs to swell against your chest.
“Be nice and hold your legs back fr’ me, won’t you? Need both my hands for this.”
A hum serves as your response as you replace Toji’s brash embrace around your legs with your own, mustering up all your strength to fulfill his wish.
And Toji was right, he did need both his hands—setting a hand to your hip to keep you at bay and a hand draped over the sticky, plush mounds of your cunt. He’s splitting the dripping mess of your lips apart, just to gawk at what’s become of you.
He bit back any words that came to mind, they were all just going to come out as mindless drivel anyway. He didn’t know where to start, especially when your pussy’s already blooming beneath his very eye.
It’s so lewd the way he catches everything; the sticky wispy threads of glass barely keeping your lips nuzzled together, how your slit gasps for attention, eager to be filled all over again, and how your clit erupts into anxious twitches over desperate anticipation.
He’s itching to feel you, that’s the reason his digits ghost along the plushy bead, trailing his touch to sink past your silky folds.
But there’s something missing from this equation…
“Y/N?” he breaks out lowly.
“Yeah?”
“Can’t see you, mama. Spread those legs open too, ‘kay?” he whispered as he laid his cheek against your thigh.
“Mmhm, Toji, you tease me too much.” That still didn’t stop you from parting away your trembling thighs off your chest, and onto the dipping stress of the bed.
Toji greets you with a ruined smile, “See, that’s so much better. Plus…I love an audience.”
The words ready to slip off your tongue opted for a breathless moan the second Toji delves into you, his warm breath covering you. He starts off so considerate with you, peppering kisses from the flushed bud down to your gummy slit. His kiss is challenged by the introduction of his tongue, languidly flushing out your folds as your slick drenches his senses.
Toji’s working his lolling tongue into steady strides, coiling at the burning nerves to catch every drop of essence dripping from you. His nose knowingly bumps at your clit through all this, earning a slew of scattered moans to chime from your lungs and into the air.
“O-Oh! Mmm fuck, Toji! Feels 's good!"
“Aww, I know it is, Princess, ‘m hearing you sing my name after all.”
But what Toji’s after is more–more of that pretty voice of yours crying out his name, more your sweet flooding his mouth, and more of those cute twitches drumming against his lips. So when he’s finally ready to pay your clit well-deserved attention, Toji’s head falls into a tilt to close any possible gap. He’s serious about no distractions, he wants every drop of you he can get.
That’s why he’s pecking at the raw bulb, teasing your clit into a false sense of security. He’s so sweet with it, just barely pushing back with his kiss. He lets the pearl press up against his plush lips for a change, just teasing the hungry confines behind his supple curves. But it’s that final tender display is when Toji’s trap falls into place, enveloping the perked bud behind the lush seal of his lips.
He wastes no time to draw your clit into the pulsing stream, Toji sucking at the bundle of nerves. He’s not too hard, but he’s not playing coy either. Rather, he’s eager enough to invoke your clit into a silky swell, with methods that suit only his whims.
He’s so messy with it too, allowing spools of spit to drip from the corners of his mouth. Squelches ring from the filthy scene—but he makes them even louder just for your ears to hear by ending each reeling tide with a ‘pop’ of lips. He could stop to clean himself up, but what was the point? Laving your clit in the lewd cocktail of his spit and your sweet honey made it all worthwhile.
“T-Tojiii,” you draw out, “ I-I’m…’m fucking gonna cum, pleeeease don’t stop!”
A frigid heat washes over your body, the pit in your tummy stirring with an addictive pull. There’s a weight befalling your entire body, the building high within your core pinning you to the bed. If only he knew just how close you were, maybe he’d take some pity and help you out more–but you knew that was out of the question.
But with desperation taunting your blank mind, you only had one solution to rely on.
Even though Toji’s hand clings to your hips, he doesn’t stop you from all movement. And with how his tongue laps at your clit in between his taunting treatment, it was the perfect chance to ease your hips into a messy cadence, your hips driving your pussy to ride against Toji’s tongue.
Your pussy paints a salacious story all over Toji’s face. Your slick glosses over his lips, a sloppy one too, just how he’s grown to like it coming from you. Your essence paints his lips, chin, and even the tip of his nose alike in your glossy veil.
It’s almost like Toji’s receiving a kiss back when your hips start to rock against him. It’s disgusting but his eyes are trained to capture every detail. The stutter in your rhythm whenever you nudge against too hard, or those trembling strands of your slick along his nose that float in the air whenever your hips drawback too far.
“T-To-ojjjiii, ‘m g-gonna cum!”
Every one of your moans hits Toji hard, that dominating nature he wears only ebbs the longer he’s nuzzled between your thighs. He can’t think straight, not with the throbbing pangs trapped behind his pants.
He isn’t one to chase after his own urges during a time like this, but you simply have that effect on him. He has to do something, or else he’d make such a pitiful mess of himself.
So, he’s placing a hand right on your tummy, using just enough force to pin you down while his other hand races to fidget with the buckle of his jeans. It’s a hard but successful struggle when he yanks the metal clasp off his hips, allowing him to unbutton his pants.
His hand ravages across every inch of his cock, his fist strumming from the base to the weeping tip. He gives the head just a good enough squeeze to ground him, but it’s a fleeting dream when his lips catch your clit in his lips once more.
A merciful whimper croaks from behind Toji’s lips, he hopes you’ll forgive him but if he doesn’t do something more than just squeeze at himself, he’ll burst sooner than planned.
And you, well you have no idea of the struggle you’ve put on him, and Toji knows this. He can see it on your face—donning that cute look he’s fond of. You finally found relief and he was selfishly chasing it right beside you.
That building guilt isn’t much of a hindrance though, and it certainly doesn’t stop Toji’s thumb from swiping along the heavy underside of his cock, bringing the flustered nerves lining his fat girth to a brimming stir.
“Go head ‘nd cum, ‘m right here!” he whimpers, sending his hips to buck up into his sheathed fist.
Toji uses your undoing as a distraction from his own as his lips bear one last stride of your hips. You fall back onto the bed, your legs slamming shut from hungered efforts.
Toji grins to himself as he pulls away from you, leaving just one final kiss to skim over your quivering clit. He picks himself from the floor, standing over you with a softened stare.
Your arms drape over your face, covering your eyes behind the sleeves of your robe as you struggle to grapple with steady breaths.
“Hey, hey, can’t pass out on me yet. Still got more for you, Angel,” he calls out, resting his hand over your heaving belly.
“O-Oh, right. Almost forgot ‘bout that,” you chuckle, sighing as you sit up to face Toji.
And you really did want to, but something else grabbed your attention quicker than he did.
A stretching wet spot on his pants, bounding your hand to mend his troubles.
You crawled onto your knees towards Toji, closing the gap between you both. Your hand moves on its own, gravitating to the opened clasp of his pants. With his briefs in tow, you tug the remaining clothes down his legs with Toji slipping out of the restricting confines at last. His hands fold behind his back, his sign of giving you free-range over him.
“Whatcha gonna do with it,” Toji muses as he casts a heavy stare over you.
Before you could even think to reply, your eyes swarm over Toji’s cock, hinging on its upright curve. There’s a happy trail that leads right down to the base, the thick gathering of hairs neatly trimmed.
He’s big, from each inch he carries to the fat bulgy girth, even his twitching red tip’s thick enough to flood in your mouth with ease. Even now, the veins melding into your twitch, coaxing rivulets of white to bud from his slit. With nowhere else to go, each drop runs along his underside, curling at the heavy swell of his ball and landing on the bed's blanket.
“You’re making a mess on my bed, Toji.”
“Oh..’m s-sorry, Miss. Can’t help myself, y’know? Your hands are so soft and I…”
Your finger swipes at the spilled tears, drifting that sullied finger to your lips. You peer up at him, just for his deprived sights to watch your every move. He’s biting down on his bottom lip as he observes, failing at holding back those whimpers leaking from his throat.
“I’ll clean up…just this once,” you purr, pressing the pad of your digit to your tongue. The rich swirl of salt coats your mouth and numbs your senses. The drops of precum melt nicely along your tongue, down to the last drop as you wash away his presence with a loud gulp.
“Oh f-fuck…’m so sorry. Promise it won’t happen agai–”
The last word didn’t get the chance to finish off Toji’s mind before a striking tremor jolts through his cock. A river of white gushes from out his tip and onto the bed, sinking through the plush material. His poor cock’s weeping for that attention, just a taste would satisfy that burning—a taste that you also found yourself starved of.
You roll your eyes at Toji’s pathetically faltered apology, setting your lustful eye back down onto the mess of his cock. White’s a good color on him, especially when it bled from his poor, dribbling cock.
Your digits grip the base of Toji’s cock, lazily pulling into a loose fist as you strum along his tanned length. That tip of his is just begging for attention, and you’re more than willing to serve it. You inch your lips closer to the blushing tip, but the sudden hand Toji places under your chin forces your sights up at him and only him.
“Whatcha doin’ there?”
“I was gonna–”
“Ah ah, can’t let my pretty girl do such a dirty job. Just ignore it, I’m gonna cum soon anyways.”
You give Toji a stifled nod, your grip over his shaft fading away. For your cooperation, Toji blows you a kiss before reaching down for his pants, searching around in his pockets.
He stands over you once again, this time with a gold foil between his fingers.
“Here,” he says, offering you the packaged condom. “Help me out ‘nd put it on for me, yeah?”
“Just the one?” You enquired, ripping apart the small foil square.
You press the rim of the condom to the head of Toji’s cock, the slickened sheet of plastic rolling down his length. Yet the rolling momentum ends just shy of his base, the condom coming to a staggering halt.
“Toji, it doesn’t fit,” you sigh as you pay him a stern glare.
He simply cups your cheek, “No, it does. I’m just a little too hard for the condom to handle right now—but it’s not gonna break!” he’s swift to assure you as he tugs at the stressed slicked latex.
“Alright, whatever–”
It doesn’t take long for Toji to hover over you, his arms caging you into his world. His brash entrance halts your sentence, but a new conversation takes place when your eyes fall in line with his.
Toji flickers over you, his eyes tracing along every curve to be found on your body. You’re perfect, made just for him. His hand crowds along your waist, massaging the supple skin that melts into his grip.
“I don’t know why you hid your body under that robe, you’re perfect.”
“So you wanted me to answer the door naked?” You hinted, lacing your arms about the nape of Toji’s neck.
“Well if you did, things would’ve been a lot different, but let’s take this off.”
Toji hums to himself as he slowly drags the satin sleeves of your robe off your arms. He quickly bundles the silky fabric into a ball, tossing it out of mind and into the bedroom’s abyss.
He’s drunk off some carnal instinct as he settles onto the bed, his arms caging you into his world.
This time, he’s the one with the feverish kiss, sending his tongue to grace the caverns of your mouth.
Your legs tether around Toji’s hips, pitting his body flush against your own. The thick hull of his chest smothers against your own, but your hands race to outline his dewed skin. His every breath, the drum of his heart, and the rippling twitch of muscles thaw in your palm. You’ve seen it since the night started, but now you’ve become more keen to study Toji’s body, tracing over his smooth skin adorned with scars.
“How’d you get these?” the question rolling off your tongue as you peer up to him.
“I’ll tell you one day, but for now, just focus on me,” he chuckles, stealing a kiss from your pouty lips. Sure, it’s not the answer he knows you’re looking for, but you’re the one staring at him with those pretty doe eyes, rubbing at his chest tenderly.
So it’s no shock that this time he’s the one with the feverish kiss, sending his tongue to grace the caverns of your mouth. He has a job to see through to the end, but for some strange reason, Toji can’t find the energy to part from your lips.
He’s adamant on keeping you under him too, at least for as long as the night wills. His arms bracket beside your head as he rests some of his weight over you, his body settling against your own. He slides his digits to your thigh, shifting your weakened legs to lace around his hips.
“Mmmphf, Toji,” you moan as your arms coil along the broad of his shoulders. The weight of his cock sits homely between the puffy lips of your cunt, the weight mindlessly coaxing your hips to rock against him for some friction.
Toji’s too ready to reciprocate, easing himself to accompany your lust-ridden rhythm. Your pussy paints him in the same wet kisses he held over you, sending the spry head of his cock into a sputtering frenzy.
“Mmhm–fuck..c-can’t wait anymore,” Toji seethes as he snakes a hand between your bodies.
“Relax for me, ’m gonna go nice and slow,” he murmurs, drawing lazy circles with his tip as he aligns himself with your entrance.
It’s the crown of his cock that ruins you, the thick mushroom tip nuzzling to fill your hole. Toji’s ever so kind for your sake, using the gentle pace to coax your walls to his girth. Your pussy’s even got the nerve to tease him, singing those cute little wet hymns to welcome him.
An outpouring sob breaks Toji from your kiss, his head dropping beside the pulse of your neck.
“Oh f-fuuh-s-so tight, Princess! ‘Nd you’re s-s-squeezin’ me like that, fuuck!”
He’s hesitant to press on, relying on a sheepish buck of his to drive his cock deeper inside of you. But Toji’s so slow that you can’t help but aid him, tilting your hips to ease his descent.
The fat of his cock finds a way to fill your cunt to the hilt, Toji grinding his hips against your own. All you can do is rely on him to ground your fleeting sense of self, your nails decorating his arms in crimson crescents.
“Oooo! Mmm, Tojii, it’s too much!”
“‘Shhh, ‘s okay, I got you,” he slurs as he lifts his head from the crook of your neck. His hazy eyes find yours, paired with a boyish grin. His hand comes to lay along your temple, reaching to pat at the top of your head” ‘n-nd you wanna cum, right? ‘M gonna do that too, j-jus’ lemme have you.”
“O…okay,” you nod as the bubbly string of tears begins to stream down your puffy cheeks.
Toji slowly reels his hips back, taking away that infectious stretch that sedated your walls, carefully driving himself to the hilt again. You gradually let him have his way, this time his cock sitting between your walls with grace.
“Think you’re ready to take it?” he checks, planting a kiss at the corner of your quivering mouth.
“Y-Yeah, I can take it.”
You said the words he needed to hear, Toji reeling his back this kindly for the last time tonight. You did say you were ready to take it—and that’s exactly what fuels Toji to grant a reckless symphony to consume his rolling hips.
The barreling strength of Toji’s hips snaps against your own, painting bruises you’ll have to nurse when the time comes. It’s all dizzying—the heat fanning across your inflamed skin the building pressure in your tummy, all of it sends your mind to places beyond reach.
He’s not trying to do it, but every inch he bullies your pussy takes leaves your eyes to roll back into your head. He’s just so big, but with each stride of his hips, you’re taking him so much better, so much deeper than the last.
And Toji knows how well he’s stuffing you too–why else would his ears be graced by the precious driveling babbles of your numbed mind? He knows, he knows—but do you know how much better you’re fucking him back?
Not with your hips, but the fluttering grip you keep him under is almost too much. He’s already flooding the strained condom with weeping tears of precum, but he can’t predict the moment when he’d be swept into his nirvana.
And that’s a scary fact he has to swallow.
“Oh, I-I can’t…I can’t do it!” his voice grunts, his hips fumbling to a shaky stop. Chills crackle all over his body, zapping away at his welled fervor. He fills your ear with nothing but hot pants— as if he’s desperate to catch his breath.
“T-Toji, you okay?” You croak, raking your digits through his hair.
He doesn’t respond.
“To–”
Instead of giving you an answer, Toji replies with another grueling drop of his hips. And then another. His hips swiftly fall back into the fiendish trance he donned earlier, draining your walls dry of resentment. He’s drunk off you–your heat, the velvet bliss of your snug walls, the way your pussy clutches around him when he’s working at your sweet spot.
All the things he couldn’t afford to fall prey to.
“Y’re gonna make me cum first. C-Can’t have that,” he whines in your ear as he reels back onto his haunches. He’s keeping busy with sending the mind-breaking girth of his cock to replenish your aching walls. He clips one hand to your waist, the other confronting the sweaty locks of hair that obstruct his front-row seat of your undoing.
The pit of arousal rallies deep in your belly, the explosive burst being teased with each wet kiss Toji plants at your core. Your hand rushes to grasp at the thick of his arms, your nails digging into the flesh. It’s not enough to subdue that raging flame flickering about your walls, not when Toji laid claim to your sweet spot the way he did.
“T-T-Toji, ‘m gonna, I’m…” you trail off as your teeth sink into your bottom lip.
“Huh? Can’t hear you. Try again, Mama ‘m here waiting,” Toji taunts with a spiteful grin.
“I’m cu–Mmmph-!”
A white, hot streak breaks over you, claiming your body as its victim. Your eyes screw shut and suddenly everything is washed as white. You can’t think, can’t spell, you can’t do anything but revel in the arch-inducing high striking over you. It’s an overwhelming wash that rings chills down your spine.
Everything within you stalled—only for a sob to spill from your lolling tongue. As you come down, all you can form is broken breaths, your lungs chasing after the sex-stained air.
Toji wants to make a slick comment about how cute you look with that fucked out face, but how can he when he’s finally spilling thick ribbons of white to flush the condom in his salacious shade.
It’s taking so much out of him, so much that he’s hunched over you, burying his lips against your skin to conceal the shameful moan seeping from his lips.
When he’s finally drained of all that pent-up stress, his hazy eyes weigh heavy with sleep. He steals a glance down at you, just to see how you’ve curled up on your side without him.
Kissing his teeth, Toji swiftly pulls himself from your velvety walls, yanking the suffering choke of the condom from his length.
Just as he thought—bleached white, but not a tear in sight.
He ties a knot into the condom before reaching behind him to tuck the used covered back inside the foil.
“Toji?” your voice cracks out softly.
“Hm?” He collapses beside you, draping his arm along your hip.
“Can you cook?”
“Huh?! I mean yeah, but why does—”
“Good, I’m expecting breakfast in the morning.”
tags <3
@champagnej @hannas16 @bludzk1llzyuzu @akiko0-0 @insideboburnham @shima707 @immindingmyownbusinessforachange @serenareiss @littlemochi @luvvvjada @tojitsukaisen @kaedeakeshisworld @caribbeanwifey19 @woahhajime @ebiharachan @po3ticb3auty @pixelsanji @omniuravity @sweeneyblue1 @yukihime-mikeys-girl @kazusugar @kenmasbimbo @10-jiku @a3trogirl @chaoticevilbakugo @sleepy3 @desiray562 @lovemegood @luvrdrop @yourmommy52726 @tojibreedingme @widepipepaladiknight @tojishugetiddies @taesd-urag @nekoriots @ladyackerman @ilaaishi @holychocopie @bloobrryktty @dabis0bitch @kensgff @23victoria @0fingerlickingood0 @savantsoulfinders @missyasma @kenryug @jkdaddy01 @dazaisfavgf @smucked @shuxjodie
#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujustsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk smut#jjk fic#toji smut#jujutsu kaisen toji#jjk toji#toji x reader#toji fushigro x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro#jujutsu toji#toji x you#cw sex mention#cw smut#//✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀—𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈!//
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Rep. Henry Cuellar (D-Texas) was carjacked at gunpoint Monday outside his Washington, DC, apartment building, according to his office.
The 68-year-old south Texas lawmaker was unharmed during the incident in DC’s trendy Navy Yard neighborhood at approximately 9:32 p.m., according to DC’s Metropolitan Police Department.
“As Congressman Cuellar was parking his car this evening, three armed assailants approached the congressman and stole his vehicle,” Cuellar’s chief of staff Jacob Hochberg told The Post.
“Luckily, he was not harmed and is working with local law enforcement. Thank you to Metro PD and Capitol Police for their swift action and for recovering the congressman’s vehicle.”
Cuellar was reportedly outside “a dorm building in which dozens” of House members live, according to Axios reporter Andrew Solender, who cited a group chat used by the lawmakers who occupy the building.
Three men reportedly held guns to Cuellar’s head as they took his phone and vehicle, which was parked on the street, according to the group chat.
An MPD crime alert on the incident says police are on the lookout for “three black males wearing all black clothing” who made off with the congressman’s white Honda with Texas tags.
The alert warns the public to “not take action” but instead call 911 if the vehicle or suspects are spotted.
Capitol Police told The Post that the armed carjacking is being investigated by DC police and USCP investigators.
“Injuries were not reported. Detectives are working to track down the suspects,” a spokesperson for USCP said.
The incident is the latest in a series of violent crimes in the district this year that have affected members of Congress or their staffs.
In February, Rep. Angie Craig (D-Minn.) was assaulted in the elevator of her northeast DC apartment building by a homeless man with a long rap sheet. She suffered bruises as a result of the attack and got away by tossing her hot morning coffee at the assailant.
The following month, a staffer for Sen. Rand Paul (R-Ky.) was brutally attacked in broad daylight by a knife-wielding assailant in DC, on the same street where Craig was assaulted.
The staffer, 26-year-old Phillip Todd, suffered serious injuries in the attack, including multiple stab wounds to the head and chest.
In June, a staffer for Rep. Brad Finstad (R-Minn.) was attacked at gunpoint near Nationals Park in Washington, DC, just hours after the conclusion of the annual Congressional Baseball Game.
That staffer suffered minor injuries in the attack, which occurred in the same neighborhood where Cuellar was carjacked.
To date, 750 carjackings have been reported in DC this year alone, with 75% involving a firearm.
That is a 115% increase in the number of carjackings from this time last year, according to DC police crime statistics.
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snapshot.
Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: overuse of pet names because i'm a romantic, masturbation, mentions of sex. not beta-d so sorry for typos or mistakes ] -
Word Count: 1K
you capture a candid photo of your boyfriend sleeping. little do you know, this innocent act sparks some ideas in his mind.
(i needed to do something after i saw him in boyfriend mode taking photos of his girl. hope this is a good way to make my comeback. soon i'll post about the little break I took. love you all. hope you enjoy) 🫶🏼
The morning sun pours its golden rays through the curtains. You wake up with its gentle kiss. The warm glow envelops you, seeming to prickling your naked skin. You find yourself nestled in its embrace, entangled in a sleepy haze, locked in the limbo between dreams and wakefulness.
You sigh as you open your eyes.
The gentle glow of the light dances around you, creating a peaceful ambiance that centers on the man lying next to you. Carlos. His head rests on the pillow; hair falling in disarray over his forehead.
Owning the image before you, your eyes don’t shy away from taking in the whole scene—the slightly parted lips, the shadow of his long eyebrows, the naked chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his slow breaths. There’s a serene vulnerability about him in that morning light, a beauty that begs to be immortalized.
And you know you can’t trust your mind for that. You can’t afford to have time tarnish it.
So you shift in bed and reach for the nightstand where your phone rests, and you aim the camera at Carlos. For a second, it seems a crime to so casually steal that image of beauty and serenity with something as mundane as a touch on a screen. Beauty like that deserves more effort.
Carlos stirs slightly, a fragment of a smile playing on his lips as he mumbles, with his eyes still closed,
“What are you doing?” There’s drowsiness in his voice, laced with a hint of amusement.
“Nothing,” you whisper softly. “You just looked so pretty.”
He smirks and runs his hands over his face. “I should feel violated,” he teases, extending his hands towards you, “My turn, now.”
Handing him the phone, you watch him. His gaze shifts to you with a different glint. You’re sitting on your knees in bed, the sheets around your legs, and nothing but your hair covering your chest. Reclining in bed, he points the camera at you. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your hands, the modesty you still hold translated into something similar to a pose.
Carlos lets out a soft groan. “No, no,” he protests, “you can’t hide those from me.”
“You want a photo of my boobs?”
“Sí, to have it as a keepsake in my wallet.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes and giggle at the sight of him. The sleepy eyes. The messy hair. The ridiculously overly feminine case on your iPhone that looks absurdly small in his big hairy hands. And all of this bathed in the soft glow of morning light and the memories of last night when you loved each other to sleep... God, you feel so lucky to have found this man.
Tilting your head to the photo, a faint smile grazes your lips as your gaze lingers on him, disregarding the phone pointing at you.
“The hair,” he directs.
This time, without even noticing, you were already obeying. You sweep your hair back, leaving the strands to cascade down your back. The soft sound of the clicks locks this moment into eternity. Looking down, you see the streaks of light cutting through your chest, drawing parallel lines over your naked bosom. You pass your fingers over it. Click. You take a deep breath and look in the direction of the light. Click. Your arms stretch over your head, in a casual stretch like you've done any morning, without a camera aiming at you. Click.
When you look back at your boyfriend, he’s smirking.
A mischievous twinkle awakens in his eyes. He’s enjoying this. Probably way more than you.
You let your fingers rest over your lips. Click. And then they hover over your jawline and your neck, which is still sore and probably painted with small hickeys. Click. Patiently, they glide over the curves of your chest with a fatherly touch, a tease enough to make your skin erupt into goosebumps. Before you dare to touch yourself, you look up.
“Do you like this?” His voice cuts the silence. And God, it’s so much deeper than before. “Tell me, love. Do you like having me here… watching you?” You nod. “Go ahead then. Play with them.”
You obey his command, gently pressing your fingertips against the buds on your chest and grazing over your nipples. Without realizing it, you squeeze your legs together. Carlos probably notices it because he moves in his place. When you look up, his hand is cradling his cock over the blanket. The power of his words and the sight of his hand on his cock are enough to make your breath hitch. You intensify your touch, tracing circles around your nipples, feeling them harden under your touch. Click. Your eyes never leave him as you continue to play with yourself, knowing you're putting on a show for him. The thought sends shivers down your spine and makes you wetter than before.
His hand doesn’t move too much, almost like he’s saving himself for you. You can see the tension building in him, the way his muscles are tense and his jaw clenched. It's a game of self-control, and you both know it.
"Spread your legs," he commands in a low voice. You obey without hesitation, spreading your legs wider and giving him a full view of your body. Click. "Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth. "I want to be inside you."
The mattress shifts, and as you look in his direction, you can see him crawl towards you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your heart race. Reaching for your chest, he kisses the spot your fingers are still pinching. He circles his tongue around your hard nipple, making you shiver, as if an electric current is flowing between the both of you. You arch into his touch, wanting more.
And then his teeth graze over your chest, ever so slightly, before he bites into it, making you gasp and whimper. The combination of pleasure and pain has you gripping the sheets tightly as he continues to tease and torment your sensitive nipples.
His hot breath is fanning over your face as he looks down at you, panting and begging for more. A smirk plays on his lips, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “Such a good girl,” he praises, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his tongue is demanding and forceful, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you desperately try to deepen the connection.
His fingers trail down from your chest to your stomach and then lower, slipping between your legs. The other hand keeps holding the phone, registering it. You take a couple of seconds to notice it, but you’re shaking. Burning.
“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he growls, before abruptly pulling away from you and returning to his seat. Arousal is dripping down your thighs as you watch him recline against the headboard. “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”
The memory of his lips and teeth seem to feed your body and arousal. You’re burning. The feeling of the sun on your skin only feeds that feeling. A warm tingling spreads through your chest and down to your core. You slide your fingers down. And God, you’re truly wet. You didn’t realize how hot this little game had turned you. You push your knees further apart, which earns a satisfied groan from your boyfriend.
"Do you want a photo of that too?" he asks.
You nod eagerly, feeling the heat radiating off your body. Without losing eye contact with him, you slide your fingers down to your throbbing center, spreading your folds and teasing yourself with light touches. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you pleasure yourself under his gaze.
"Fuck," he groans, snapping another photo of your hand between your legs. You moan at the sound of his voice. "I love watching you, baby. You look so pretty."
Carlos repositions the phone to make you be right at the center. It’s a masterpiece. Your body fits perfectly within the frame of the phone. Your skin taken by the streaks of light, golden sunshine gilding your naked body almost like blessing the pleasure you're implying on yourself. You’d later learn that you looked unreal in those photos—something pulled out of a painting, shadows and light in perfect harmony. But in that moment, you just felt needy and desperate.
"Can I move?" You ask, your voice shaking with need.
"You can do what the fuck you want, baby," Carlos replies, his eyes never leaving you as he slides out of bed. You feel a surge of confidence and power as you take his spot, spreading your legs wide.
Your fingers slide over your wet lips, teasing yourself with light touches. Carlos sits at the end of the bed, watching intently. The sunlight streaming through the window catches on your juices and they sparkle in the light.
Your eyes meet his, and he nods encouragingly. You let out a breathy moan as you start to move your fingers in circles over your clit. The pleasure builds quickly within you, and you hear Carlos let out a low growl.
You slide two fingers inside of yourself, the wetness making it easy for them to slip in. You let out a loud moan around your fingers, imagining they're Carlos' instead. The thought of him filling you up makes your walls clench around your fingers.
You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, but you want Carlos with you. "Carlos," you cry out his name, hoping he'll join in and take over where your fingers are currently working.
But he doesn't move from his spot at the end of the bed. He continues to watch you with dark eyes, his hand still hovering over his erection but not touching it.
You can see the longing in his gaze and it only fuels your desire further. You want him desperately, to be taken by him until all sense is lost.
You call out to him again, pleading for his presence and touch. You long for him. His hand tightens around his erection as he struggles to hold onto control. Your eyes lock with his, and he lets out a small laugh of helplessness.
"Use your words, baby," he grunts. "Tell me what you want."
"Please, come here."
"Not yet."
"Can I?... Please? Can I cum?"
"Yes. Go ahead. Give in for me."
You comply, arching your back and pushing your hips forward. Your fingers glide in and out of your body at a rapid pace, your breaths becoming shallow and erratic. Carlos' gaze never wavers from you, and the sound of his gentle moans fills the room.
Climax is imminent.
You can feel it building, a searing warmth spreading through your veins, threatening to consume you completely. You know you're on the edge, but you want to prolong this moment, revel in the pleasure of it all.
When you open your eyes, he's standing by your side. The camera is focused on your face, but his eyes? His eyes are fixed on yours. All his attention is on you.
"I'm—," you gasp, meeting his gaze, your voice barely audible. “I'm so close.”
“I know, my love,” he whispers. Click. “Let yourself go for me.”
As the words leave his lips, you feel yourself start to unravel. Your body trembles with ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. You let out a guttural moan, your fingers still working their magic on your slick folds. It hits you like a wave, stealing your breath and lifting you higher, as you cry out his name and arch your back, almost like being pulled towards him by an invisible force. The camera continues to click as your body convulses, capturing every bit of your ecstasy, your face twisting into a mix of pain and pleasure.
As you come down from your high, you're aware of Carlos moving around the room. The bed dips slightly, and then he's beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your sweat-damp skin.
“Can you take me now?,” your voice low. “Please?”
Had this one in my mind all day so I just needed to sit down and write it down before it would vanish. I know I've been MIA, but I see all the support you keep giving me. You're all incredible.
Hope you enjoyed this one silly thing. As always, all feedback is appreciated. 🫶
#Carlos Sainz#Carlos Sainz Jr#Carlos Sainz x Reader#Carlos Sainz x You#Carlos Sainz Smut#Carlos Sainz Fanfic#Carlos Sainz Imagine#Formula 1 x Reader#Formula 1 x You#F1 x Reader#F1 x You#F1 Imagine#F1 One Shot#Driver x Reader#F1 Driver x Reader#Driver x You#F1 Driver x You#F1 Fanfic#FanF1ction
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Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)
Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.
Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader
Humans have learned to live with monsters.
Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it.
Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support.
Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed.
— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me.
You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you?
Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable.
He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts.
— Dismissed.
He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want.
— B…but…
You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…
Colonel has a problem.
He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric.
It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances.
He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect.
— Sir? Is everything alright?
You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator.
Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t.
— I thought you’d heard me the first time.
— But I brought coffee.
— They make coffee machines in cows now?
— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…
— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away?
— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…
— They really sent me a magic cow, ja?
— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.
You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you.
You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow.
He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…
Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable.
— You forgot the milk.
— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk.
So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics.
— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty.
— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir.
— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here.
His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office.
But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise.
— Take off your shirt, Schatzen.
He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay.
— You want me to…take off something else, sir?
A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees.
Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already.
— Ja. Bra is next.
You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger.
Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though.
— Braves Mädchen…good girl.
You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target.
Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples.
— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…
He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window.
— You already think of the next time, Schatzen?
König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you.
He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life.
You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation.
— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…
— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel?
— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…
— Language.
He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him.
Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.
Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest.
— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…
He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop.
Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide.
He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges.
He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat.
König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created.
— How do you feel?
He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less.
— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.
You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles.
— My pleasure, Schatzen.
You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain.
He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all.
#cod#yandere konig#konig x reader#cod x reader#call of duty#cod x you#konig mw2#reader insert#yandere cod#yandere x reader#konig#konig x you
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Benign
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.
Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.
You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.
Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.
The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.
But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.
After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.
Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.
You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.
Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.
But Steve would.
Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.
You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.
“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.
He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.
“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”
You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.
Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.
He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.
“Gentle?” he mumbled.
“Rough,” you countered.
“Baby—”
“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”
Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.
“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”
You turned onto your side.
“You still don’t remember what happened?”
The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.
“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.
“This Winter Soldier—”
“He isn’t me.”
“You didn’t know?”
“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”
Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.
“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.
Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.
At last, you made up your mind.
You would try something new—and really, really stupid:
“Zhelaniye.”
“What?”
Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.
“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”
He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Wait—”
You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.
“Baby, baby, stop—”
“—pech, devyat—”
You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.
“Don’t—”
“—adin—”
No time at all.
“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”
Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.
“—dobroserdechniy—”
‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.
Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.
It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.
Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.
Faintly, you said:
“Soldat.”
The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.
“...Bucky?”
The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:
“Who the hell is Bucky?”
The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.
“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.
The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.
“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.
You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.
Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.
“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.
The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.
Or try to, anyway.
Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.
You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.
“James—”
“Zhena.”
The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.
To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.
Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.
“Zhena,” he repeated.
You blinked.
“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”
He hummed in acknowledgment.
Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.
Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.
“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.
Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.
You whimpered. Bucky groaned.
Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.
You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.
Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—
“Stop!” you cried.
A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.
Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.
“Honey?”
You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.
Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.
The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.
Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.
A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.
But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.
Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?
“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.
You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.
Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.
And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.
“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.
You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.
When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.
You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.
Again, he nodded.
“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.
He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.
He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.
“Bucky?”
The man looked up at you and blinked.
“Yeah, honey?”
One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.
The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.
It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.
Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.
“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.
But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.
All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.
Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.
You wanted that part to change.
With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.
Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.
Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.
Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.
His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing—”
“My baby okay?”
He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.
You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.
Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.
“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.
You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.
You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.
Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.
When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.
His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.
Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.
“No, let me—”
“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.
Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.
His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.
“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”
He sounded irritated again.
Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.
It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.
“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.
The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.
Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.
You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.
This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.
The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.
But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.
Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:
“Bucky.”
The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:
“Bucky.”
He blinked.
And slowed.
“Bucky,” he mumbled back.
Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.
“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.
The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.
“Years,” he answered.
“Years?”
Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?
No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.
You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.
Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.
You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.
It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.
For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.
“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”
“Since what?”
The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.
“Close now?” he muttered.
Ignoring the question you’d asked.
“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.
Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.
What you saw made your stomach drop.
Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.
Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.
He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.
“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.
The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.
“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.
The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.
Pleading.
“I can’t lose you again.”
The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’
You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.
You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.
Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.
You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.
You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.
Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.
You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.
“James?” you mumbled into his hair.
Bucky didn’t respond.
You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.
Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.
He didn’t.
It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.
At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.
Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.
“Baby, it’s just—”
Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.
The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—
You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:
“Stay.”
Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.
But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.
And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.
Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.
You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.
“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.
If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.
But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.
If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.
Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.
You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.
SOS
Need help
Pick up please
Bucky’s stuck and he’s
About to hurt people here
A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.
“Bucky!”
Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.
You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.
The line went dead. You tried again.
Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.
The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:
“STEVE!”
“Mrs. Barnes?”
You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.
You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:
“This is Mrs. Barnes?”
“Yes,” you answered woodenly.
You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.
“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”
The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.
“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”
No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.
You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.
“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”
“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.
The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.
“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”
“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”
Another pause.
“Prenatals.”
You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.
“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”
Three weeks along.
Advised prenatal vitamins.
For the child growing inside of you.
A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.
Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.
You hung up.
—
Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs
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Over Tea
A sudden chill sweeps through Gotham, almost like Mr. Freeze had just attacked only thing was the man was currently locked away in Arkham, and was felt by all. And talked by all via word of mouth and on social media as well.
The clouds and smog that covered their dark city shifted and swirled, a rumble beginning deep inside them as the weather turned from smoggy to rain and thunder with no real warning. The strangest thing was the green glow that could be seen when thunder rumbled inside the gray clouds.
Then like a candle being blown out, the rumbling stopped, the rain ended, and the clouds parted all over Gotham.
For the first time in a while Gotham had a clear sky and it felt... it felt like something heavy had been lifted off the city.
It was this sudden shift and the all felt chill that had set off alerts for Batman and his family. Since early morning since the first change and shift happened he was in front of the Batcomputer trying to narrow down where it started.
After hours of searching with the help of Red Robin, Oracle and strangely enough Red Hood, they managed to narrow down where the odd power had been coming from.
Was still coming from, only very low.
The old and abandoned observatory tower.
-x-x-
"More ecto-tea Lady Gotham?" Danny asked, his hand waving towards the steaming pot nearby.
The woman smiled lightly, her dark painted lips curling up to show her sharp fangs for a moment before saying "No but thank you Young Kingling though I would like more cookies if you don't mind. Now where were we?"
Danny nodded towards her and signaled towards a maid skeleton ghost who walked forward with a tray of cookies. The maid swiftly placed a few more cookies on the spirit embodiment of Gotham plate before bowing and stepping away.
"We were just about to discuss the sentience of the Court of Owls." Danny said as he lightly tapped the large almost mountain of paperwork on the table they were sitting at, floating high above the floor as shooting stars and planets drifted around them. Many ghosts floated around as well, servants that had sworn their loyalty to the Young King, and were preparing things like snacks and drinks for two powerful beings in the room as they discussed business. Nearby doors and windows though were ghostly knights that stood tall and alert, making sure no interlopers interrupted the meeting taking place and ready to defend not only Lady Gotham but their King.
"Ah yes them." Lady Gotham grimaced as she took a drink of her ecto-tea. "That will take some time for us to discuss, they've been running around unchecked for to long and even with my limited abilities to hinder them has been less than ideal."
"You, Lady G, were deeply cursed for many, many years and I just broke most of it." Danny cut in quickly, he was not about to let this wonderful and powerful city spirit blame herself for something out of her hands "Due to said curse you couldn't do much so please don't go blaming yourself. Its mostly broken now, so you can freely start healing yourself and your city self now that jerk demon that cursed you is in Walker's prison for his crimes."
Lady Gotham grew silent for a moment, her dark eyes staring deeply at the young King but then warmly smiled, well as warm as she could seeing how she was Gotham itself. "You reminded me of my Knight, Young King, treating me like this. Not afraid to point out the truth and facts."
Danny gave a light laugh as he took a hold of one of the cookies on his plate and gave a bite "I'll take that as a compliment Lady Gotham. Now about those Court of Owls...."
#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc#blue rambles#crossover#writing ideas#random idea#danny phantom dc#dpxdc#dcxdp#ghost king danny#Danny visited Gotham as part of his new kingly duties to discuss things#only to find the city spirit chained and cursed by a demon#he fought the demon and kicked its butt now that he's cleaning up Pariah Dark bad management#Lady Gotham been trying to save her city self for years but couldn't do much#Her Dark Knight and his bats and birds helped ease the pain#but the demon encouraged and influenced a lot of Batman's rogue's#The Joker is the one he's most proud of#Lady Gotham did her best to save her people from his influence#some listened others didn't#anyways Danny came to Gotham because he noticed a lot of papers for the city and well#again found the demon and fought him#it caused a huge shift in Gotham that couldn't be ignored#and we all know Batman wouldn't ignore it.#Honestly I just wanted Ghost King Danny and Lady Gotham discussing business and drinking tea as they float.#I like to think the Batfam do get to the Observatory and somehow sneak in even with all the guards.#what happens next I leave open for others to play with.#11 pm ideas and thoughts
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Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.
I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.
You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.
He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.
You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.
So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.
Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-
The Wayne's.
You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.
So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.
Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-
"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"
Shit- did you figure out he's batman?
Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"
Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.
"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.
"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.
"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."
"Why?"
You shrugged. "I was bored."
"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?
"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."
Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"
"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."
"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.
He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"
"Then give me something that is."
Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?
You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."
"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."
You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."
Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."
I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.
So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.
And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)
Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.
"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"
Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.
When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.
"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.
"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.
"We had a deal-"
"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.
Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"
You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."
"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."
"What?"
He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."
Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."
Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."
Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-
Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.
"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."
girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)
#rich man has weird ways of adopting kids that dont consent to adoption#yandere bruce wayne#yandere batman#yandere batfam#yandere batfam x reader#yandere dc#batfam x reader
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A fic-lit about Danny working at the watchtower, not as a superhero but as an engineer.
This is based on an prompt I read months ago but cant find where Danny put that he was a halfa on his resume but the hiring manager didn’t pay attention to it and hired him anyway. Rather than that its just Danny working at the watchtower and vibing on break when a tiny Robin finds him in the viewing deck.
—
Danny had been working for the justice league watchtower for a couple of months. He has seen hero’s come and go, paying him no mind and he was absolutely living for it! Unlike at 14, he was just a simple, normal worker—despite being half dead and the next in line for the crown in the infinite realms—he is just a simple mechanical engineer, Danny Nightingale. No one to fight, no one to save, just a big space station that needed someone to help keep it up in space.
And that's another bonus to this job; Space!
He gets to spend his shift up in the stars, looking out at the cold expanse of their solar system. Admiring the earth from a whole new angle, and he is getting paid to do it! Sure he could go into space any time, but being able to spend a good portion of his time here really made his core sing in joy. When he was on break he would wander around the areas he had clearance to go into, looking out every window at every star. Cataloging the ships movement through space with sharp eyes. His favorite place to go is the viewing deck, it was exactly what it sounded like, a place to just go and view that space outside.
It was there that Danny decided to take his break today, the Watchtower was at just the right angle to be able to see the earth from the viewing deck. Danny smiled watching the planet he lived on from afar, this really was the best job he could have ended up with!
A few months back he was having a hard time finding work after college, sure he had all the proper qualifications for the positions he applied for. But due to his medical condition—being half dead with a slow almost nonexistent heartbeat—they all refused him, afraid that his heart wouldn't keep up if he left the atmosphere to board any of the space stations orbiting the earth. To be fair it wouldn't have, he tested it by flying up to the moon and back the old fashioned way. But he couldn't just tell them that; being an ecto entity was still a crime that he was just barely able to get away from at age eighteen.
He came out to his parents once he graduated high school, they reacted poorly. Danny’s mom saw red and tried to kill him the rest of the way, claiming that Danny was just a ghost “piloting” his corpse around. Danny’s dad just stayed silent and watched, but before maddie could really do anything he acted. Jack knocked Maddie out with a strong blow to the back of her head. Danny remembered the hope that he had when Jack did that, but after he looked up at the man that hope died in his chest. The man looked torn, both angry and sad and in a voice lacking any of the familiar warmth said, “leave before she wakes up.” And he turned to pick up Maddie and made his way up the stairs. It was because of his dad that he was able to get away because after that Danny Fenton was declared dead. With the help of Sam and Tucker he was able to make a new identity for himself and go to school. From that day on Danny decided to move on and never look back.
After putting his name out there time and time again he was rejected. It wasn't until he got a letter in the mail saying he had been scheduled for an interview at Wayne tech of all places. He didn’t remember applying there but decided to go anyway, needing some sort of job to get him through. But when he got there he was greeted by Lucius Fox and Batman of all people! Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the dark knight, Danny couldn't help but think the worst. But before he could bolt, Lucius explained that Batman was looking for workers with the help of Wayne Industries for the base of operations for the Justice League—The Watchtower. Turns out all his applications to several different space programs caught the man’s attention. He even explained that Danny wouldn't even need to have a physical or get on a spaceship because The Watchtower utilized teleportation technology. Danny was so excited that he agreed on the spot without even knowing the benefits he would get from working with them. Which—surprising to no one—were a lot of benefits.
Danny was drawn from his thoughts when he heard the soft, almost nearly nonexistent footsteps coming from behind him. Danny turned and saw a child—no older than twelve—wearing a hero’s costume that looked like he was mimicking a traffic light. The kid froze in his tracks when Danny turned to face him, the two staring at each other for a few moments before the kid smiled and waved at him.
“Hi,” the kid beamed at Danny, “I’m D—Robin!”
Danny lifted a brow, “you a part of the justice league?” He asked, not remembering a kid being a part of their team.
The kid shook his head, “No, my guardian is though!” He explained.
“Ah, neat,” Danny said nonshalontly as he turned back to look at the window, “you come to see the view?” He asked.
The kid walked farther into the room and gasped when he got a better look at said view. “Woah—”, he exclaimed, now standing next to Danny.
Danny looked beside him to see the stars reflecting off of the kids' eyes, “cool isn't it? I come here on my lunch breaks," Danny says.
The kid looked at him and then squinted suspiciously, “if you're at lunch where is your food?” He asked.
Danny smiled, “I forgot my lunch at home today,” Danny lied, seeing the stars gave him enough energy to continue going. He usually eats when he gets home.
“Really?” The kid asked with a raised brow.
Danny smiled and looked around to see if anyone else was there, when he saw no one he asked, “do you wanna hear a secret?” He asked. Robin looked around himself as well before he leaned down a bit so Danny could whisper into his ear, “I actually just absorb the energy from the stars to sustain myself.” He explained.
“Really?” Robin asked, looking at him again, trying to gauge if Danny was lying or not.
Danny smiled, “yep,” he said, popping the p, “that's why I got a job here, that way I won’t starve to death.” Danny grins.
“But cant you just look at the stars from earth?” Robin asked, tilting his head.
“I mean, sure,” Danny says with a shrug, looking back out the window, “but this is so much better, isn't it?”
Robin looked out the window, “yeah!” The boy exclaimed, “it's so much clearer up here than in Gotham.” He commented.
Danny smiled and looked back at the boy, “I live in Gotham, too.”
“Really?” Robin asked, “No wonder you come up here,” the boy commented, causing Danny to snort in laughter and it wasn't long before Robin joined him.
“You got that right,” Danny says with a smirk before something dawns on him, “Wait, hero from gotham? I didn't know Batman had a kid?” Robin looked away, Danny could feel his nerves and sadness pass through him.
Danny was about to tell him that he didn't have to talk about it but before he could get his words out Robin spoke up, “My parents died about a year ago… he took me in only recently, he decided to train me when I found out he was Batman,” the kid says looking down at his feet, a glare etched on his face, “i never got to avenge my parents, the murderer had a heart attack before I could even get to him….”
Danny reached out to the kid and placed his hand on Robin’s shoulder, Robin looked up at him—as if remembering that Danny was there with him.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Danny says softly, Robin looks away from him. “But I can tell you wholeheartedly, your parents are proud of you and what you are doing,” robin began rubbing at his mask, preventing him from wiping the tears away from his eyes underneath. “Here,” Danny says as he goes to pick up the 12 year old, “let's get you back to the Big Black Bat, I bet he is looking for you.”
Danny sits Robin on his hip and walks out of the room, rubbing circles into the child’s back. They walk together in silence, Robin resting his head in the crook of Danny's neck. “…Thank you,” Robin mumbles.
“Don't mention it kid,” Danny says as he looks around the corridor trying to spot anyone who could help him get this kid to the upper levels, “I know what it's like to lose your parents….”
“Really?” Robin asked, his head lifting off of Danny’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Danny says, “they didn't die, but they basically said they never wanted to see me again.”
Robin gasped, “that's not nice!” Robin declared making Danny laugh again.
“Your right,” Danny agrees as he turns down another hall towards where the zeta tubes were, maybe someone in there could help. “But, now I'm here, having the time of my life with the job of my dreams.”
Robin smiled again, “you could say you're living the HIGH life.”
Danny paused in the hall and started snickering, “that was a good one, Birdy.”
“Birdy?” Robin asked.
“Yeah, your name is Robin, that's a bird, so Birdy,” Danny explained, “its a nickname
“Does that make us friends?” Robin asked.
“Sure, as long as your guardian is ok with it.”
The boy smiled happily, excited at the idea of having made a new friend. The calm was interrupted but Danny’s supervisor yelled from across the room, “Nightingale!” He shouts, causing Danny to jump.
Danny turns to look at the man, “hey boss—” he starts, blocking Robin from the man, not wanting to scare the kid.
“You are late to clock back in! You're not getting paid to sit around with your head in the clouds!” The man shouts.
“Sorry sir, I was—”
“No! You need to get back to work, NOW!” He demanded, “this is a multibillion dollar space station, everything needs to be on a strict schedule!”
Danny sighed, his supervisor hasn't liked Danny from day one. Something about him being “young and nïeve” or something like that; “head higher up into space than we were right now.” At least that's what Danny heard him say about him once or twice.
Danny was about to talk back when something just past his manager caught his eye. It was Batman, walking fast with a look that told everyone to get out of the way. But Danny could feel the worry bleed off the man in waves. Must be looking for Robin, Danny’s mind supplied. Danny sidesteps his supervisor and shouts, “Hey Batman!” To catch the dark knight’s attention. Danny had to restrain his laughter when he saw the look of horror pass on his supervisor's face.
Now with the vigilanties cold glare focused on him, Danny smiled and adjusted his stance to show Robbin to him. “Looking for you kid?” Danny asked.
Robin smiled nervously and waved at Batman, guess he wasn’t supposed to wander off like he did. “Hey B!” He shouts.
Batman’s glare softens so slightly, a regular person would have missed it. However, Danny could feel the man’s previous anxieties melt away into a strong relief. Batman strutted forward and glared down at Danny—despite Danny being taller than him. Danny just smiled and adjusted Robin on him so he could hand him over to the dark knight.
Now in Batman’s arms, Robin tapped his pointer fingers together nervously. “Sorry for wandering off,” he mumbled before his smile came back full force, “but,” he exclaimed, “I made a friend! His name is Danny and he liked my puns! And we both have bird names!” He exclaimed all while pointing at Danny.
Batman looked from the kid in his arms to Danny, “hmm,” he grumbled. A man of few words, Batman nods at Danny.
Danny nodded back, “He’s a good kid, glad I was able to help.” Danny replied. Feeling gratitude from that small gesture alone. Batman isn't the most expressive but being able to read emotions like Danny really helps when talking to people.
Batman turns his head to look over at Danny’s superior, “hmm.” After that Batman turned and walked away.
Robin climbed to sit up on Batman’s shoulder and waved back at Danny, “Bye bird buddy! Have a good day!” He shouts as Batman enters the elevator. The doors closing behind them and leaving the zeta tube control center in near silence.
Danny looked back to his supervisor who looked as pale as a sheet ghost, Danny gave him a shit eating grin and shrugged at him. “I tried to tell ya—”
“Get back to work Nightingale!” He shouts.
“Ok, ok, I'm going.” Danny says, turning on his heels and walking away from the man with his hands held up in surrender.
—
I have so many ideas for this au and if I write more I might post it on my AO3 feel free to read other things I posted on there!
#fun#dp x dc#dpxdc#crossover#ficlit#robin!dick#dick grayson#danny fenton#goes by Nightingale#disowned by parents in au#my au my rules#the watchtower#watchtower worker!Danny#ghost prince danny#he wont officially be crowned king until he fully dies#dcxdp#dcxdp crossover#bruce and danny are the same age becaue i said so#may make it gay#who am i kidding#its already gay#:3#>:3#uwu
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i can see the trio dangerously driving to or from a party. they’re speeding down the empty road, the new future album blasting from the speakers of topper’s jeep. kelce is up front, and reader and rafe are in the back. reader is a bit drunk and rafe is high out of his mind and can’t control his feelings for reader so he starts getting touchy with her, maybe trying to kiss her. since you’re just starting this au out, i’m curious to know how do you think reader would react and if she did kiss him back, how would topper and kelce react?
the last line of coke was a mistake—it made him lose the last bits of his self control. it was clear that he was way too high to drive, even though it seemed like rafe always drove clear-headed or not, so you were assigned babysitting duty in the back.
top was on a rager today, even worse than his usual ones. whenever him and sarah started fighting, he got like this, currently blasting some future song at the highest volume possible, speeding through the streets of kildare. you would be a little scared, except kelce is driving while topper nurses yet another beer in the passenger seat. you're deliciously drunk, still gone from the drinks you had at the party, not a care in the world except making sure rafe doesn't keel over in the back.
you mumble along the words to the song, pretty much engraved in your memory from how often it was played. you don't know how it happens, your fingers just find rafe's hair, brushing it out of his face while he talks to top and kelce in the front, amped up and loud, acting as crazy as you've ever seen him. you giggle, continuing your motions.
topper begins some rant about his girlfriend, or rather, his ex, while rafe locks eyes with you. it's hard to keep eye contact, looking away the second rafe shuts up and focuses on you completely. you're never shy around them but this might be the closest you've gotten.
you feel rafe's hands on your exposed thighs, your tiny skirt ridden up in the seat. his touch feels good, in your drunken state you don't think there's anything wrong with it. he's just being friendly, being touchy, being rafe. he strokes the soft skin of your legs, running his hands down to your ankles, while you shift around in the back. all it would take is one look from the boys in the front to see that something's going on back here.
"rafe, listen to top he's talkin-"
"shh," rafe says, noise completely overlooked by the others, nothing audible except the thump of the bass. he takes your face into his hand, leaning in close. "shut up for a second." he kisses you, briefly, barely, lips touching together and your eyes fluttering shut, when kelce slams on the brakes. the two of you fly apart, your heart thudding for an entirely different reason now.
"what the fuck, kelce, my brakes-" top starts.
"it was a deer, you idiot. you guys okay?" he turns to look at you and rafe in the back, your face flushed and rafe's hands still on your legs.
"fine," rafe mumbles. the four of you head back to tannyhill, you crashing on rafe's bed like always while top and kelce take the guest room down the ball. the two of you are out before you can bring it up, but rafe doesn't forget about it.
in the morning, you stretch, the oversized shirt of his you'd put on for the night riding up. rafe doesn't wait another minute.
"so, about last night. in the car." he looks at you, waiting for your response.
"oh, rafe, don't apologize. it's okay. we were both pretty gone."
"m'not apologizin', i-"
"and i mean, who hasn't been there once or twice-"
"once or twice?"
"and i kissed kelce that one time, so i guess-"
"you kissed kelce?" rafe looks at you like you've committed a crime.
"what? it was new years."
"where the hell was i?"
"i don't know, probably sucking some girl's face off. i was busy making out with kelce, remember?" you laugh, getting up and looking for your clothes. rafe lays back down on the bed, deciding he's never leaving you alone with kelce ever again.
#this was... incredibly incredibly fun to write.#you are an ANGEL For sending this prompt i could picture it so vividluy#i hope you love <333333 thank you so so much for engaging and liking it!#📮 asks#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#kook trio reader
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may i request ghost seeing reader making something (maybe a get well soon card or a papercrane or sth idk) and then someone accidentally ruining it? like how would he react? what would he do next etc
doesnt have to be a fic if you decide to write it, could be bulletpoints or something ez🥰🥰
thankyouu🥺✨
I love getting requests like this one; thank you @lululandd! Also, there’s a very important A/N at the end, so meet me there. Buh-bye for now, enjoy! 🍫
———————————————————————
Price got hurt. It was a terrible hit, and everything happened so fast. You were there, at the crime scene, as everything unfolded right before your very eyes.
His injury, however, wasn’t the result of a mission gone wrong; no. Some idiot forgot to put the warning sign on the wet floor, which caused the poor man to fly into the air and crash to the floor.
The good news is that he's recovering quickly and is now being held at the medical centre until he's ready to be released.
The bad news? Without a captain to guide the team, there was no mission to undergo. And, without a mission, none of you had a clear direction or purpose, leaving you all floating in a sea of mundane tasks and boredom. So, for the past few days, you and the rest of the team have been doing mind-numbing chores ranging from scrubbing the kitchen’s greasy ovens to meticulously organising the cluttered armoury.
While Soap and Gaz are on patrol, you and Ghost are taking a break in the mess hall. He’s cleaning his gun by disassembling it and wiping all its metal components with an alcohol solution. You sit across from him, working on a different kind of project: making a get-well-soon card for Price.
Last night, you snuck into HR’s office and “borrowed” some supplies to help you with your craft: a piece of white paper from the printer, some markers, and a pot of blue-coloured glitter dust you found in one of the drawers. It was a mystery as to why the military’s Human Resources department possessed glitter. Still, it will undoubtedly prove helpful with your "crafty" mission.
You also went to the doctor and requested some “normal-sized” bandages to help with your secret project. The doctor leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow. He asked why you wanted the bandages, but you were so vague with your answer that he became suspicious of you. So he pulled his desk’s drawer and gave you one fucking bandage—just one. So you had to make it count.
You folded the white paper in half and carefully attached the bandage horizontally to create the outline of Price’s body. The only thing left is to paint his face on the bandage and draw a hospital bed underneath it. That, and getting the team together to write some kind messages on the card.
Ghost looks at you every now and then, mildly intrigued by your artistic creation. You catch his eye, and he quickly turns away.
“Do you like it?” you ask.
“It’s a bandage on a piece of paper,” he says, shrugging. “What is there to like?”
“It’s not just a bandage on a piece of paper,” you explain and gesture to the figure on the paper; “it’s supposed to be Price lying in his hospital bed, recovering.”
His response comes in the form of a lengthy, dismissive snort. He points to the glitter pot in front of you.
“Why the glitter?” he asks.
“It’s for the bedsheets,” you murmur.
“I didn’t know they transferred Price to a love hotel,” he mocks, turning away from you to resume his task. You roll your eyes in response and shift your focus to your craft. This is the same guy you’ll later ask to write a few pleasant words on that card. Fun stuff.
You can still feel his gaze on you as you work on the captain’s card. Despite his best efforts to appear apathetic, you notice him leaning in slightly, pretending to stretch or yawn while sneaking peeks at your project. His body language betrays him; even though he tries to be tough and keep up the act, you know that deep down, he’s a huge softie who can’t resist a heartfelt gesture. He coughs, pretending to clear his throat, and you stifle a laugh at his failed attempt to seem disinterested. You roll your eyes and slam your hand on the table.
“What’s your problem, Lieutenant?” you ask with an amused smirk on your lips.
“I just don’t understand,” he says as he wipes the gun barrel. “Why bother making a card from scratch when you can buy one?”
“Because it’s more meaningful,” you explain. “When you take the time to create something yourself, it shows that you care. It’s not a generic card; it’s a heartfelt statement.”
He lets out a sarcastic scoff.
“I’d do the same thing for you, you know.” You whisper.
He puts down his rifle and looks at you. “You would?” He asks, surprised.
You nod. “Of course, I would,” you reply, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; I’d rather you stay injury-free.”
He chuckles and turns to look at the mess hall doors as they open, with Soap and Gaz carrying a large box and approaching you both.
They slam the box on the table without assessing its weight, causing the entire surface to shake. The impact knocks Ghost’s alcohol solution over, spilling it all over the table and, even worse, all over your hand-made card.
Your heart sinks to your stomach as you helplessly watch the liquid soak into the card, smudging the ink and warping the paper. Ghost throws the gun on the table and grabs your card as quickly as he can. Soap curses under his breath, and Gaz grabs some paper towels from another table, attempting to rescue anything he can. But it’s too late; the damage is done.
You look up to see Ghost standing there, pinching your card between his fingers.
He is livid.
“What the fucking fucking shit, sergeants?” He murmurs.
“Apologies,” Soap replies, utterly unaware of what he’s done, “Hope we didn’t ruin anything important.”
“This,” Ghost says quietly as he raises the destroyed card, “was a get-well-soon card for Price.”
“Sorry guys,” Gaz apologises as he wipes the table off. “Soap and I will go buy another o-”
“SHE MADE THIS!” Ghost yells at him, “SHE MADE THIS WITH HER OWN HANDS!”
Soap furrows his brow. “Why would you make a card when you can buy one?” he wonders.
Ghost slaps his thigh, muttering profanities under his breath. You try to convince him that it’s alright and that a store-bought card will do just fine, but he cuts you off and looks at the sergeants.
“Why make a card instead of just buying one?” He asks and brings the tips of his fingers together, waving his hand back and forth in front of the two sergeants. “Because a hand-made card is more meaningful and personal than buying a generic one, you dimwits,” he lectures them and turns to you.
“Can you make another one, Y/N?” He asks softly.
You lower your head to the ground. “I’m afraid I’ve run out of banda-”
“SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANY MORE BANDAGES, YA PRICKS!”
“And I had only one sheet of paper.”
“AND SHE HAD ONL-” he pauses. “How come you only got one sheet?” He asks, and you explain that you weren’t supposed to be on the HR premises, so you had to act quickly. Ghost lets out a deep sigh as he looks at the ruined card.
“Sergeant Mactavish, go get a few sheets of paper from my office,” he instructs before turning to Gaz. “Sergeant Garrick,” he orders, “go to the medic; tell him that your new boots have caused blisters on your feet, and you need a few bandages to patch them up.”
They both nod and leave to go fetch your supplies. Ghost turns to you and crumbles your—already—destroyed card.
“Don’t be sad, kid,” he comforts you, “I’ll help you make another one.”
“Really, Lt.?” You ask, grinning.
“Damn right I will,” he says as he takes off his gloves, “and it’ll have bandages and bedsheets full of fucking glitter and everything nice on it.”
———————————————————————
A/N: The card was inspired by this tutorial from Jennie Moraitis; all credit goes to her. Here’s a picture of the card from her website!
#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#cod mw2#ghost cod mw2#ghost cod mwii#cod ghost#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley fic#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost mw2
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28 / 1.7k / soap soulmate au, part 5
...
Soap stares at his name where it's inked across your skin. You should be his enemy. He's sitting across from you, your interrogator in this dimly lit weapons closet. You refuse to look at him. But his gaze bores into you anyway, intense on your eyes, your lips, the cuts and bruises on your face. He wants you. But he can only have you once you've given him the information Captain Price needs.
"Tell me where Alejandro is," he says. "That's all you need to do."
A muscle in your jaw twitches when he mentions Graves' name, but you bite your tongue. You won't let him shake your resolve like he did in Las Almas. You should've killed him on sight.
"What Graves is doing to Alejandro--you know it's wrong." Soap’s gaze is steady. You're so close. He wants you so badly it hurts. "He's not a good man.”
"You have no idea what kind of man he is," you say.
"I know exactly the kind of man he is," he growls. "I saw what he did to the people in Las Almas. He called them dirty cops and had them executed when they said they didn't know anything. Innocent people. In front of their families. Their children." Soap's hands curl into fists on the table between you. "He's not the kind of man who deserves your loyalty."
Your cuffs clink as your arms flex against the chair. "You wouldn't understand."
"You're right. I wouldn't." Soap's knuckles pop, his voice low and dark. All his life he's waited for you. Now Graves--fucking Graves, who betrayed Soap and his team and tried to murder them all--is somehow the one keeping you from him. "I don't understand what you see in that bastard."
You say nothing, eyes trained on the far wall.
Soap's shoulders tighten. "You're just a tool to him."
"I’m a soldier. I choose to follow orders. So do you.”
"You're following his orders. You think that makes you a soldier, being a weapon? No. Makes you a damn dog."
You say nothing.
Soap grips the table until it creaks. "You think he cares about you.”
"It doesn't matter if he does or not."
"It does so bloody matter. You’re no’ some pawn he can just throw away." God damn you. He wants to grab you with both hands and shake you. To hell with this interrogation--he's got half a mind to lock you down somewhere padded until you get it through your skull that you're not worthless. He scowls at you. "You're better than this. You have to be."
Cold irritation seeps through your mask. "Am I?" Soulmate or not, he doesn’t know you.
At the look on your face, Soap's scowl deepens. He's going to kill that bastard, and he's going to do it slowly. "What about Graves is more important to you than the innocent lives he took? Does that mean nothing to you?”
"Orders are orders."
Soap's voice drops to a dangerous pitch. "Look me in the eye and say that.”
You don’t. You tell yourself it’s because he has no power over you. He can’t tell you what to do.
Soap crosses his arms. "'S what I thought. You're bluffing."
"I'm not."
"Bullshit. Graves is nothing but Shepherd's lapdog. Gettin’ paid to commit goddamn war crimes.”
"Shut your mouth," you snap. "You have no idea what happened--"
You stumble on the next syllable and go silent, realizing suddenly that you're looking him in the eye.
Johnny's a man of impulse, and it takes all the self-control he has to keep himself in place the moment you lock eyes. The pull he feels to you right now is overwhelming. You're in reach. He leans forward. Those brilliant blue eyes of his see all the way down into your soul. They’re just the same as you remember--eerily vivid, pupils blown, with his jaw set hard.
"What happened to what, darlin'?"
You shift, skin prickling. You want to cross your arms over yourself and clap your hand over the soulmark on your neck. "You don't know what happened in Al Mazrah."
"You were ambushed."
You nod, remembering that night of the mission. You've seen your squadmates die before. It's a hazard of the job, part of being a mercenary. But that night--seeing so many Shadows gunned down before they could so much as draw their weapons--it still haunts you.
"Shepard didn't know. It wasn't like we-- it was supposed to be a simple transport mission."
"It was a black bag op."
"That's what Shadows do. We take missions people don't like. Someone has to step in where you military dogs won't."
"Where was Shepherd when it went tits up, hm?" Soap's lip curls. "No air support on an illegal op. He left you to be killed. And now he needs someone to blame. It's not gonna be him taking that bullet. It's gonna be you."
"Captain Graves can handle it."
Soap lets out a rough sigh. Your insistence on Graves is rubbing him raw. You could have died on that op two months ago. And then what? He'd have never met you, only found your name later in stone on some memorial somewhere. The thought makes his chest go cold and his blood run hot. It could still happen. If he can't tear you away from this bloody mercenary work, you'll never be his. Christ. He can't let that happen. He won't. You're not going back to the Shadow Company. He'll tear Graves into pieces before he lets that happen.
He fixates on your soulmark again. Why can't he focus on getting the information Price needs? All he can think about right now is the scab on your lip, the way your pupils dilate when you look at him. Your body wants his even as you're spitting venom. The fire in you matches his own, and he wants more.
"Graves isn't here," Soap tells you. "And I'm not takin’ chances. You’re not going back to Shepherd, and you’re sure as hell not going back to Graves. You're mine."
You pull on your cuffs, hating the way the possessive note in his voice makes your stomach flip. "You don't get to decide that."
"Neither do you.”
"Isn't a matter of choice. It's a matter of what you’re gonnae do about it."
You swallow and watch his gaze track down your throat. He's close. When did he lean in? Why aren't you pulling back?
No, you tell yourself, you’re not scared. You’re in control. You lean a millimeter closer. "You can't keep me here."
His eyes brighten, gaze so intense it warms your skin. "Careful, darlin'. You don't want to throw down that gauntlet."
"And you expect me to tell you whatever you want to know? Fuck my career, fuck my squadmates?"
"If you weren't so damn dense, I'd--" He mutters another string of curses in that thick Scottish accent, standing from his chair and pacing the tight room. "You don't understand what I'm offerin’. You don't need them. You have me an' mine."
He circles around to your side of the interrogation table and kneels next to you, his expression an open plea for you to listen. You stare down at him with your heart suddenly in your throat. You can't backpedal. You can't look away.
He searches your face. Even roughed up, even pissing him off, you're beautiful. Damn it, he's going to do something stupid if he doesn't control himself.
He keeps his voice low and even. "You were expendable to them. You're expendable to Graves. You're no' expendable to me." He reaches up to you, and you go still. His hand is hot on your skin. His grip is surely strong enough to break bone. But only his thumb drags along your lip. His eyes follow the motion. "Your loyalty should be for people who care about you. I'm on your side, ya wee shite. Just tell me how to get to Alejandro and I'll get you out of here. I'll make sure you're safe. That's all I need to know."
You stare down at him. Your heart beats in your ears, and his pulse hammers with yours. You can feel it through his thumb against the sensitive skin on your lower lip.
Johnny wants you so badly you almost give in. He thinks he's telling the truth--that he'll protect you. But he doesn't know any better. You're not who he wants you to be. You're not soft. You're not good. Why does he act like he can see something redeemable in you?
Being his soulmate doesn't guarantee you a goddamn thing. Promises don't afford you any more protection than you've already given yourself. You know that very well. People aren't reliable. Soulmarks don’t fix everything. They’re just ink.
Whatever he sees when he looks up at you makes something cold and sharp settle in his chest. His throat constricts. He's pushing, he knows he is, and it's the wrong move with you. He's never been this desperate for anyone.
"Darlin'. Don't do that. Don't shut me out." His voice wavers just like his resolve. He'd protect you to his last. You refuse to see that, and he can't make you.
You look away, pulling away from his hand. "I don't trust you."
Johnny's stomach drops, and he digs his fingers into the metal chair to stop himself from digging them into you.
You want him. He can see it in the set of your shoulders, how tight you hold yourself when he's close to you. You want him despite yourself, and you still refuse. It doesn't matter how rational a decision it should be to accept his help. There's something else happening in your head that's keeping your walls up, and he's starting to realize it's not just Graves. It can't be.
He watches you for a long moment. He doesn't want you to hurt, but he's not stupid enough to believe you'll soften up and come around with time. You're a soldier.
Finally, Soap stands. If you don’t tell him what he needs to know, you’ll remain a hostage, and won’t be able to have you. He won’t accept that.
"Fine," he says, pushing his way out the door. "We’ll do this the hard way."
...
part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / [part 5] / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10
more Soap / masterlist tag
#soulmate soap#mine#story#soulmate au#fem reader#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#soap cod#johnny mactavish#soap mactavish#soap x reader#x reader#soap x you#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x you#cod#cod x reader#call of duty#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#tf 141#tf 141 x reader
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Hold Me Down (Is This A New Start?) - Rafe Cameron x Reader
Summary: After a long, hard day of work you just want to go home and go to bed. But, when you get a persistent knock on your door from Rafe fucking Cameron. you know you’re gonna have a long night ahead. Letting him in, after two months of not seeing him, you fully anticipated a screaming match. But, you got something much different than you bargained for—much better too.
CW/TWs: brief angst, brief mentions of Rafe being on house arrest lol, feminine pronouns used, gorgeous/sweet girl/baby/darlin' as nicknames, toxic behavior, canon-adjacent Rafe, mean-ish Rafe, smut, piv sex, oral sex (male receiving), impact play, (not really) lowkey daddy kink, brat reader, dumbification, degradation kink, praise kink, overstimulation, breath play, unprotected sex (be safe I am nawt your mom gn), allusions to a pain kink for sure, mushy gushy sweet ending, not highly edited or reviewed
Words: 8.1k+
Note: 18+ MDNI, really just fucking don’t. I wrote this one in first person because writing in second person irritates my very soul. Uhhhh so this kinda came out of left field and I did nawt plan on writing this but here we are! But such is life! Anyways…back to regularly scheduled programming.
It had been a long day - too long. There was something exceedingly exhausting about living paycheck to paycheck that the average person didn’t understand. There was nothing quite as specific as the exhaustion that you encountered by overworking yourself day after day, week after week, month after month, all for nothing. Because that’s what this all amounted to. Nothing. Nothing extra at the end of the week to take home, nothing to do anything nice with. Just nothing. And nothing sucked the joy out of your day like knowing you’d have to get up the next day and do it all over again.
When I’d finally gotten home from a shift that didn’t end until almost the crack of fucking dawn - a good twelve hours after I was supposed to have gotten off shift - there was not a thing I wanted more than to sleep. Still, even as I sat on my fucking couch, my woes could not end. There was a loud, demanding knock on the door.
The first time I ignored it.
The second time I ignored it.
The third time, an annoyed voice accompanied the knock.
“Baby, open the fucking door,” came the snarl from the other side. I groaned and ran my hands down my face. I really didn’t want to deal with Rafe today. Not like that had ever deterred him before. “Baby, come on. Listen. Please. The cops are fucking trolling around outside. Baby, please open the door.”
I groaned and pulled myself to my feet, opening the apartment door. Standing there, looking at pitiful as ever was Rafe fucking Cameron. The bane of my existence. My more-or-less on-again-off-again boyfriend—though I’d sooner bash my head against the door than admit that. I glared at the ass who had done nothing but make my life harder since he’d entered it. Then, I stepped to the side and let him in. He stepped in and closed the door quickly, locking it behind him. He turned to me and pressed an absent-minded kiss to my forehead before going to sit down on the couch.
“You look like shit, darlin’,” he said. When he even had the decency to look up and notice I was there.
“Thanks,” I said dryly. I looked down at his leg. His ankle monitor looked fucked. “What the fuck did you do this time?”
“Just a little mod,” he said casually. “I needed to get out for a minute.”
“Why did you come here?” I demanded. “Did you stash more fucking coke in my house I swear to fucking God I will kill you. I am not catching a fucking charge for you, asshole.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I leave my coke with you knowing that you’d throw it out, baby? That’s just bad business. Besides, darlin’ the cops aren’t outside for me some loser is probably getting caught selling a few doors down again. And hey? It’s a crime to want to see you now, darlin’?” he asked, winking.
“No. But it is a crime to skip out on house arrest, Rafe,” I said blandly. “And I know damn well that you’re not here because you want to see me. I’m just convenient to you like fucking always.”
He rolled his eyes as if I were being the dramatic one. “What’s wrong now, gorgeous?” he drawled. “Always seems like there’s something these days, hmm?”
I clenched my jaw. “Fuck you, Rafe. Get the hell out,” I snapped.
Rafe frowned. Stood again and walked over to me. He placed his hands on my hips, refusing to leave. I, in turn, refused to look at him. “Look at me, darlin’,” he demanded. Reluctantly I did. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer. He brushed my hair back from my face and just kept looking at me. “Come on, sweet girl. Tell me…what’s wrong.” He smiled to himself when I still didn’t answer. “You know better than anyone I’m not going to leave until you tell me, baby…so come on…what’s wrong with my sweet girl?”
“Fuck you,” I repeated weakly, pulling out of his arms. I plopped down on my couch, curling into myself and closing my eyes. “Just fucking leave when you see the cops are gone. I can’t be bothered today.” The asshole had the audacity to laugh at my words. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”
Dramatically, Rafe sighed and knelt down on the ground in front of me. I felt him grab my knees and pull me to face him. I had no choice but to unfurl, otherwise, I would’ve fallen into him, which I had no interest in doing. So, I leaned back into the couch, trying to ignore the heat of his hand sinking into my cold legs through worn jeans. It was hard to ignore that. Hard to ignore any of him, really. And he knew that. That’s why he only waited through my stubborn silence for a few minutes.
“Come on, baby,” he hummed. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m sorry I’m a dick, darlin’…you know I care.”
I laughed weakly, eyes still closed. “No. No, you don’t,” I said flatly.
He ignored my words and kept rubbing my legs. “It’s so fucking cold in here, baby,” he commented. “And your legs are freezing. Your heat not working?”
“No, it's working. It’s just too fucking expensive to heat this shitty goddamn apartment and I’m not forking over more money to the cunt landlord,” I said sharply, glaring at him. “Did you suddenly forget what life is like if—” I cut myself off, shaking my head.
He had the audacity to glare back if you could believe it. Then, he slapped my inner thigh. “I told you to call me if you needed help,” he hissed. He slapped my other thigh. “The fuck are you doing? What game are you playing at, baby?”
I pushed him away from me with my foot. “A game where I don’t need to rely on a man who is a fucking wannabe felon,” I snapped.
He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Newsflash, baby, you do need me,” he said, sounding way too smug about it.
“Fuck you, Rafe. I need a bullet to the brain more than I need you,” I sneered.
“That’s cute.” He continued on like I didn’t even speak in the first place. “I could give you that, if you want. But that doesn’t change anything about it, darlin’. You need my money, you need my cock, you need my love. You’ve said it yourself that no one gives it to you as good as I do. And I know you haven’t been looking which means you’re still as invested in this as I am. So.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “When I tell you if you need my fucking money to heat your stupid apartment because your ass is too stubborn to move in with me…then you fucking call me.”
“You are not my fucking father,” I snapped, pulling out of his tough.. “Like I said. Bullet to the fucking brain before this shit anymore. I’m sick of it.”
“I don’t know. You do call me daddy a lot,” he mocked. He smiled down at me, but there was hardly any warmth to it. “But, oh? You’re so sick of it, hmm? You want to be brainless?” He laughed. “Well, I can make you brainless without having to put a hole in your pretty little head.” He wound his hand tightly in my hair, pulling my face towards his while I sharply inhaled. “And you’ll remember exactly why you’re not done with me, gorgeous.”
I glared at him. “I haven’t seen you in two months. The last time I did see you, you called me a stupid, worthless cunt and told me that you never wanted to see me again. And you think you can just show up here and get me to listen to you?” I demanded. I felt my face heating with my frustration. “Just like that? You think you’re…you think you’re worth me listening to?” I laughed. “Like I said. Fuck you, Rafe. I deserve…I deserve so much better than this. Than you.”
There was a mocking pout on his face. He reached out and grabbed my face again, squeezing my chin. “You think you’re going to find someone better than me?” he asked incredulously. He let out a laugh. “And where do you think you’ll find someone like that?” I didn’t answer. I refused to give him the satisfaction. He chuckled, but then his face went serious. “I’m sorry that I haven’t seen you in months, darlin’. I’m sorry that I said I never wanted to see you again. I was pissed, sweet girl. I didn’t mean it.”
“Oh you never mean it,” I said, the sarcasm’s impact dampened by the tearful sound of my voice.
He moved his hand from my chin to cup my face. I hated myself for it, but I did lean into the touch. “Come on, sweet girl…don’t be like that, baby,” he said. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss to the side of my neck. “You know that I love you.” Another kiss, followed by a short nip. “I’ve been busy, darlin’. That’s all. I’m sorry. I should’ve called, sweet girl. I know that. I’m not mad.”
“You were mad,” I accused, glaring at him.
“I was mad, baby,” he said, deceptively calm. “I was…frustrated that you wouldn’t let me take care of you. I just want what’s best for you. But I’m not mad anymore.”
“Well maybe I’m mad at you,” I retorted, harshness still lessened by the teary voice and the way I leaned into him.
“That’s okay,” he practically cooed. He pressed another kiss to my neck then moved so we were face to face, just a breath between us. He smirked, eyes drifting down to my lips and then back up. “You can be mad at me as long as you want, sweet girl. Just as long as you tell me that you love me.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. “No,” I said stubbornly.
“Come on, sweet girl, please,” Rafe purred, stroking my neck with his hand lazily. “I love you, darlin’.”
“I love you,” I said, voice breaking. My eyes popped open and I felt the tears in them.
Rafe’s smirk didn’t waver, but his eyes did soften. He let out a hum and wiped a tear that slipped. “There’s my sweet girl,” he cooed. He leaned forward and pressed a long, languid kiss to my lips. “Let me make it up to you, baby.” Another long kiss—lazier this time. “Let me apologize for calling you names, baby.” Another kiss. “Remind you that you’re my special, sweet girl.”
I huffed. “Oh so you wanna fuck me and suddenly I’m not a stupid, worthless cunt then?” I spat, voice dripping insecurity.
Rafe rolled his eyes so hard I was shocked that his eyes didn’t stick in the back of his head. “You’re not a stupid, worthless cunt. You’re my sweet girl and you know it,” he drawled. “I was a little fucking high when I said that. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
I gave him a withering glare. “Oh and you’re not high now?” I asked even though I could already tell he wasn’t. He gave me a flat look and I deflated, leaning back, covering my face as I leaned against the arm of the couch. I sniffled. “Okay, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean it.”
He chuckled dryly and rubbed my leg gently. “It’d be fair if you did,” he drawled. He squeezed my leg. “And it’s fine that it’s not fair, sweet girl. I wasn’t fair. So.” He grabbed my legs and lowered them both to the floor. He gently pried my legs open leaning further into my space, hands dancing up both my thighs now. “How about I be real nice and make it up to you?”
“No,” I said stubbornly, glaring half-heartedly down at him. I felt his hand toy with the waist of my jeans, dancing just over the button. “I don’t want you to.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow, unconvinced considering I’d begun to lean into his space more, opening my legs to give him more space to occupy, more space to get closer. “Oh?” he posed, tone almost mocking. “You don’t want to?”
“No,” I corrected, grabbing his hand, putting it back on my hair to silently prompt him to grab it just as he did before. “I don’t want you to be nice.” I glowered at him .”It’s been two months, Rafe. I need…”
He let out a low chuckle, eyes dark with quickly emerging lust. “Fuck, darlin’, tell me…what do you need?” he asked.
I blinked slowly, still looking right into his eyes, intoxicated by him already from such a short time together. “I need you to take care of me like you always do,” I said quietly.
Immediately, his hand wound tightly through my hair and he rose to his feet, forcing me to tilt my head up. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I looked up at him, my eyes wide and wanting. I bit my lip, eyes trailing slowly down his body, to his belt at my eye level, and then back up. He chuckled again, grinning down at me. He wound his hand a bit tighter in my hair making me let out a squeak as he dragged me just a bit closer to his body.
“You need me to take care of you?” he posed, tone just shy of mocking. “Need me to help turn off that gorgeous fucking brain of yours, baby?” He used his free hand to trail down my cheek, fingers briefly touching my neck and stopping there. “Need me to fuck you stupid, sweet girl?”
Taking a shaky breath, I reached out, hand loosely holding his belt buckle. “Yes,” I said breathlessly.
I reveled in the sudden, sharp sting in my cheek. “Try again,” he warned, voice raspy.
“Yes…please fuck me stupid, daddy,” I said, batting my eyes up at him. “I don’t wanna think anymore.”
“Fuck,” Rafe muttered, his voice raspier still, thick with lust. He chuckled and loosened his hand in my hair before dropping it. He took his shirt off and then knotted a hand back in my hair. “Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of my sweet girl.” He stroked my cheek gently with his free hand before moving it to his belt buckle and undoing it with ease. He then smirked down at me, inclining his head. “Well? Take me out, darlin’.” I glanced down at his open belt but he tutted, tilting my chin back up. “No, baby. Keep your eyes on me.” His request was one that was most easy for me to accommodate considering I felt like I’d die if I looked away from him.
My hands trembled as I reached forward, taking the belt off of him. I was ready to throw it to the side but Rafe held out a hand. Without even questioning it, I placed it in his hand. He then set it to the side and gestured with his head at me to continue. Which, I happily did. I heard him let out a quiet chuckle as I undid the button on his pants and brought down the zipper without breaking eye contact. I almost hastily pulled down the fabric until it sagged the rest of the way down. I raised my eyebrows at Rafe in a silent plea.
“What, baby?” he asked, amused, tightening his grip on my hair. I let out a weak whine and pouted. “What? You gotta tell me what you want, sweet girl. Use your words.”
“I wanna see your cock,” I responded, hooking my hand on the hem of the waistband of his boxers. I tilted my head to the side, jutting my bottom lip out further. “Please, daddy.”
He let out a dark chuckle. “Okay, baby,” he drawled. I hummed, pleased with myself, and looked down, prepared to take his boxers off. But, he tutted, turning my head up with his grip on my hair so I’d meet his eyes again. “Nuh, uh, darlin’. Keep those gorgeous eyes on me still. Don’t you dare even think about looking at my cock yet, baby. Just get it out.”
“But—” I began to complain before being silenced with another warning slap on the cheek making me whine and pull back slightly; not that Rafe let me get very far.
“No but, baby. You listen to me. Be a good girl,” Rafe warned, tone darkening. “You know I want what’s best for you, right, sweet girl?” I nodded through teary eyes, looking back up at him. He cursed under his breath at the sight, tightening and then loosening his hand in my hair once more. “Good girl, baby. Such a good fucking girl. Now, get my cock out. And don’t even look at it.”
I shivered at the order but complied. I reached and used two fingers to gently drag the fabric of the boxers down until they too gave way, falling down past his knees. Using every bit of restraint I had, I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to look at his dick even as it hung directly in front of my face. Rafe hummed, his free hand moving from his side to wrap around himself, pumping lazily. I swallowed, biting my tongue as a reminder to keep my eyes up. A mocking laugh fell from Rafe’s mouth at the sight and I felt my stomach tighten.
“Oh there’s my good girl,” he cooed. “She can finally fucking listen, huh? So proud of you baby. Little slut that you are, I didn't think you’d be able to do it.” I let out a tiny whimper at his words, feeling a growing, heated pit of arousal low in my stomach. I shifted slightly, just barely able to keep my eyes from falling down. He chuckled again and pursed his lips. “How about you take your clothes off for me baby? Then I’ll let you look all you want at your favorite part of me.”
“All my clothes, daddy?” I checked. He nodded. I all but raced myself to do so. I whipped off the shirt I had on with ease and shimmied out of my jeans easily enough. Sitting there in my bra and panties, Rafe told me to stop and so I paused, looking up at him. “Yes, daddy?”
“Nothing, darlin’…just wanna look at you a minute,” he said, eyes dark with lust. “So fucking pretty, baby. God on fucking high, can’t imagine what I did to deserve such a blessing.”
“Stop,” I dismissed, blushing.
“Nah, baby. You’re a fucking twelve-course meal and I plan to have all of ‘em,” he dismissed, stepping closer and grabbing my chin. “And you aren’t gonna say some dumb shit like that again. We clear, baby?”
“Yes, daddy,” I murmured, feeling his thumb ghost up to trace my bottom lip. My breath hitched in my throat and he seemed to remember himself.
He pulled away and smirked down at me. “Bra and panties off. Let me see that pretty pussy, darlin’. Been missing it so much while I was gone,” he purred. I shivered at his words but peeled them off, shivering at the cold feeling of the air against my nipples and the cool fabric of the couch against my exposed core, quickly growing wet. “Fuck you’re so pretty. Look at you…all this…just for me.” He came closer again—even more this time—and his hand loosely went around my jaw, jerking my head up. “You are just for me, aren’t you baby?” I nodded immediately. He glared, his voice gruffer. “Words, darlin’. Or I might not be inclined to be too nice to you.”
“Yes, daddy,” I said breathlessly, wide-eyed. “All yours. Just for you.” I felt my heart beating rapidly in anticipation of seeing Rafe smile down at me. “Daddy?”
“Yes, baby?” he asked, hand still hooked around my jaw.
“Can I look please?” I asked sweetly, pouting up at him.
His lips quirked into a smirk and he narrowed his eyes looking at me, appraising. “I don’t know, baby. You think I should let you?” he asked.
“Please,” I said, pouting. “I just wan’ you. Want to see you. Wanna have you.”
“Awe with my sweet girl saying all that, well how could I say no?” he drawled, removing his hand from my neck to trail back and join the other in my hair. “Go ahead and look, darlin’. Take as long as you’d like.”
Ever so slowly, I broke my eye contact with Rafe, trailing my gaze down to his dick. Rafe’s confidence even as he stood bare as the day he was born was one of the things that had initially attracted me to him. But, looking at him now, lazily pumping his hand over his cock while he smirked down at me? I don’t think that I’d ever been quite so down bad for him. Which was…concerning, maybe? Pathetic, perhaps? But I didn’t care. At that moment, with his long, thick dick just hovering right in front of me, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him. Of how long I’d wanted him…of how long I’d waited.
“What? I don’t even gotta fuck you to turn that pretty brain off anymore?” he said, voice an alluring growl as he let out a dark sort of chuckle. “Got you so trained to take my dick you don’t even try to fight it, do you sweet girl?”
I shifted at his words, suddenly feeling my core flutter at his words, clenching regrettably—miserably—around nothing. His smirk increased tenfold at that and he stepped closer so that there was practically no space between us, not that there had been much before. Now, his cock stood proudly just next to my face. Again, ever so slowly I raised my eyes to meet his again. And the desperation must’ve been clear in my gaze if the smug, self-satisfied look in his were anything to go by.
“And this was supposed to be for you,” he hummed. “My dumb little baby won’t be able to think for herself and tell me what she wants when I get started, will she?” I let out a pathetic little whimper. “You just need something in that sweet little pussy and your perfect mouth, huh?” His eyes trailed down to my lips, briefly displaying the heated desire he was feeling before moving to meet mine again. “Tell me one thing, darlin’, okay? Think your cute lil’ brain can take that?”
“Yes, daddy,” I said, voice coming out breathy. I squirmed slightly, squeezing my thighs together to avoid doing something like grinding on the couch and making him stop this before it even started.
“I don’t have too much patience before I gotta get in that tight fucking cunt, gorgeous,” he drawled. “So…tell me. You want me to eat that pretty pussy? Or do you want to choke on my cock?” He grinned, sharp-edged and shark-like. “It’s up to you.” An aborted moan came out of me at his words. The answer for me, right now, at least, was obvious. I glanced down at his dick and then back up. “Nuh uh, darlin’. You tell me which one you want.”
“I want you to fuck my throat,” I whined, looking up at him wide-eyed.
Rafe chuckled, hands tightening in my hair. “I’ll give you a pass on not addressing me properly this once because you said something so sweet, darlin’. But don’t do it again,” he said, half-mocking, half-warning. I nodded eagerly. One hand released my hair. He pat my cheek and then held my jaw tightly between two fingers. “That’s my girl.” The possessiveness dripped off his tone. “Now be good for daddy and open that fucking mouth.”
My mouth fell open without much thought after that. He grinned as I left it open, tongue sticking out just the way he liked it. His thumb pressed down on my tongue, head tilting slightly to the side as he looked at me. I moaned at even that simple feeling, my body practically trembling with want for him. But, for a good few long moments, that’s all he did, slowly pressing his thumb more against my tongue. But, after a few moments, he drew it away, using his free hand to lazily pump his cock—still only half-hard—in his hand. I inhaled shakily, eyes looking at his heavy cock, knowing the weight and feel of it without even touching it.
“Mmm,” Rafe said, letting out a leisurely sigh as he jerked himself off in front of me. “You want my dick, sweet girl?” I nodded eagerly, tongue still shamelessly hanging out of my mouth. “You want me to make you choke on my fucking cock, baby?” Again, I nodded and he groaned. “You’re so fucking sexy, darlin’, fuck.” I watched with rapt attention as a bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip of his dick. I heard Rafe chuckle not a moment later. “Holy shit are you drooling, baby? Fuck, you really want this dick, huh? Well, I don’t wanna leave you wanting.”
Rafe used the hand in my hair to bring my head closer and anchor it in place. His other hand still held his dick that he was bringing towards my awaiting mouth. The second I felt the tip of his dick touch my tongue I groaned in appreciation at finally having something, feeling myself growing wetter and wanting. Already, with him not even having touched me yet, I was a mess. Rafe knew it damn well too. He chuckled, slapping his dick against my tongue making me inhale sharply then let out a tiny little whimper.
“Should I stop teasing you baby?” he said, voice measured, even, and entirely unaffected—as if he were in a business meeting and not getting ready to ruin my throat. “Should I make sure you lose your voice tomorrow now?” I nodded as best I could while ensuring that his dick did not fall from my tongue which just made him let out another low groan. “Alright, then, baby. You asked for it. Time for you to put that fucking mouth to work.”
I barely had the time to inhale before I felt Rafe’s heavy member settling against my tongue. I let out a breathy moan, reflexively hollowing out my cheeks and bobbing my head to take him further into my mouth. I moved my hands to touch him and he slapped them away.
“No fucking hands,” he grunted, pulling my hair so I’d look up at him before pushing me down to the hilt of him, nose settling against his pelvis. He cursed and I felt his dick pulse in my mouth as he looked down at me, eyes dark and wanting. “So fucking pretty when I’m stretching your fucking mouth open, baby. Look at you. So fucking good.” My core fluttered again at his words, clenching and unclenching while I felt myself starting to dampen the couch slightly the wetter I got. “Gonna fuck your throat now, darlin’.”
With the minimal warning issued, he thrust heavily, pulling out of my mouth almost entirely before thrusting entirely back in. I forced myself to breathe through my nose, relaxing before something unfortunate could happen like my gag reflex being triggered. I moaned around him, using my tongue as little as I could find myself able to when he started to consistently, aggressively thrust himself to the back of my throat. I whimpered at the feeling, grinding absent-mindedly against the rough fabric of the couch, letting my tongue trace along the vein on the underside of his dick.
Rafe caught sight of my desperate rutting against the couch and he let out a dark, slightly breathless chuckle without interrupting the pace of his thrusting. “God, look at my desperate fucking baby. What, is daddy not taking care of you fast enough? Fuck,” he grunted. “You wanna grind like a desperate, needy, brainless little toy? I should make you fucking get off of my thigh without me touching you?” My choked whine of displeasure at the threat made him let out another mean sort of laugh. “Don’t worry, darlin’. That’s gonna be for later.” I let out another whine at the promise then. “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you get yourself off on my leg and then I’m gonna eat your pussy so good. Gonna make you cum for me at least five times before I stop. I’ll fucking tie you up if I gotta, gorgeous. Gonna make my sweet girl so overstimulated she’s not gonna think ‘bout anything but my fucking cock…my fucking mouth…my fucking hands.” Each word was punctuated by a pointed thrust down my throat. “As if you think about anything else, my dumb little fuckin’ baby, yeah?”
When he pulled out of my mouth entirely, releasing my hair, I reflexively gasped in a breath of air, eyes wide and watering. I looked up at him. But, Rafe was still non-plussed by how fucked out I already was. He wasn’t even pausing, barely breaking even a bead of sweat across his gorgeous, obscenely perfect body. No, instead, he knelt down in front of me, one hand making its way immediately to my pussy and finding my clit like two ends of a magnet attracting to each other. He let out a low tutting sound, shaking his head at me as I bucked my hips against his hand before I could stop myself.
“So fucking sloppy, pretty girl. Is this all for me?” he asked, his voice both teasing and harsh. “Barely even done anything to you, baby. You’re just that much of a needy little fuckin’ slut for me, huh?” I let out a high-pitched keening noise and he hummed, wrapping his hand around my throat to make me focus on him even as he slipped two thick digits inside of me. “You want me, baby?” His voice was husky, rasping and his alluring eyes were locked intently on me.
“Yes, daddy,” I whined, voice weak around the whining and moans that I couldn’t help but release as he finger fucked me into oblivion. Even with so little direct stimulation, I felt my legs starting to tremble and my stomach starting to tighten, coiling and ready to barrel quickly towards release. Rafe could tell too based on the way my pussy was practically trying to swallow his fingers whole. “Please.”
“Please what, sweet girl?” he cooed, pretending like he didn’t already know damn well what I wanted.
“Fuck me,” I begged.
“Oh but you sound so pretty when you’re whining, gorgeous,” he groaned. “And I need you to be nice and fuckin’ ready for me. So I need you to cum for me before I fuck you.” My stomach tightened further just on the edge of sweet, sweet release that I’d been missing the past two months while he was missing on fucking house arrest. “Okay, baby?”
“Okay,” I sobbed, hips trying to buck even as he used his massive hand to direct my hips to keep the rhythm he wanted, the other tightening around the outside of my throat, making my eyes roll.
“Good girl,” he huffed. He paused his speech a moment, his fingers moving even faster, making me choke out a sobbing moan, head falling back until he squeezed my throat again in warning, making me lift my head. He then issued a command. A single word. “Cum.”
And who was I to disobey?
The coil in my stomach exploded into a mirage of light behind my eyes as they rolled back. I felt a slightly shrill shriek erupt from my mouth more than I actually heard myself. And all that I could think of beyond the veil and haze of pleasure was the feeling of Rafe’s hands, his skin so close to me. He supported my body as I slumped against him, both of his hands moving to rest low on my hips.
“Good job, gorgeous. You look so fucking pretty falling apart for me,” he encouraged, his voice an appreciative, warm grumble of affection. His hands ghosted up and down my sides. “You ready for me to fuck you, pretty little thing?”
“Yes, daddy,” I said, letting out a long, shaky sigh. I reached out, hands trailing up the planes of his solid chest, leaning my head on him to listen to his steady, calm heartbeat. “Thank you, daddy.”
“Of course, baby,” he said. I could hear the smugness in his voice but I didn’t care. He leaned me back on the couch and moved to get up. I let out a whine of dissatisfaction and grabbed his hand tightly, pulling him back towards me. He looked amused as he raised a brow. “I have to go get a condom, sweet girl.”
“No,” I said stubbornly.
“No?” he asked.
“Have you been fucking bitches on house arrest?” I asked, bottom lip jutting out.
He reached out, pulling my lip down and looking at it in undisguised intrigue. “No,” he admitted.
“Well, then you haven’t worn a condom with me before. So fuck’s sake, Rafe just fuck me,” I demanded.
Rafe’s eyes had a hardened sort of glee to them. His hand moved before I registered it and my head turned as his palm made contact with my cheek. Again, my core clenched around nothing. This time, I bit back the moan that threatened to escape.
“Who?” he warned, sounding all too happy to remind me of my place.
“Fuck me, daddy,” I reiterated, still with an extreme attitude. “Fuck me, don’t pull out cum in me, I don’t care. Just fuck me, daddy.”
“Drop the attitude,” Rafe said, a final warning.
“No,” I spat, knowing exactly where it would get me. You know, right where I wanted.
Instead of slapping me again as I’d first expected, Rafe tilted my head up with just his pointer finger under my chin, his shark-like smile back again. “Do you want to be punished, baby?” he asked, sounding all too eager. I offered no answer. He used his free hand and slapped me, harder this time. I couldn’t bite back the moan this time, or the way that my hand tried to drift between my legs. He caught my wrist easily to stop me. “Answer me or I’m gonna stop. I’ll walk out the fucking door, darlin’.” My bottom lip quivered at the thought, chest heaving. “Do you want a punishment, baby?”
“Y-yes, daddy,” I admitted after another stubborn moment.
“Well why didn’t you say so, darlin’,” he cooed sarcastically.
In a flurry of movement, Rafe sat on the couch and had me over his knee. My bare, soaked cunt made contact with his hard knee and I choked on a moan at that feeling. I barely had time to register the change in position before he landed his first hit on my ass. I yelped at the feeling, reflexively trying to squirm away from the pain, even as I felt a jolt of pleasure at the feeling. Rafe held my hips in place easily with one hand, keeping me firmly on his lap, and used the other to lay a hard slap against my ass, making me yelp again.
“That feel fucking good baby?” he grunted, slapping me again. I didn’t answer, a sharp, hissing inhale coming from my mouth. Another slap. Another whimper. “You should be fucking thanking me for this, darlin’. Disciplining your unruly fucking ass. Making you my good girl.”
“Thank you, daddy. Thank you, thank you. Please,” I whimpered, reflexively trying to squirm once more when his hand made contact with my ass yet again.
“Please, what, sweet girl? Remind you that you’re fucking mine? Oh, I am gonna, darlin’. This is just part of it,” he ground out. I could feel his rock-hard cock pressed against my side and I was torn between wanting it stuffed in my mouth and my pussy. Both thoughts escaped from my mind entirely as he landed another slap against my ass.
“More,” I ground out through clenched teeth, barely able to resist the urge to grind against his thigh and knee with the desperation that I was feeling.
“Needy little slut, you are, huh?” he asked, amused. His hands stopped their cyclical pattern of slapping my ass to rub the abused flesh for a moment. I felt his hand move between my legs more, teasing my entrance with his fingers. Naturally, I opened my legs for him. He chuckled at that. “Can’t wait to be stuffed with me, can you? Already brain dead to everything but me, aren’t you, sweet girl? You’re just my little plaything right now, aren’t you?” I buried my face in the couch and let out a groan, feeling his hand circling my clit again, lazily, not creating enough friction to do anything.
“Daddy, please,” I whined.
“Don’t worry, pretty little thing. I know just what you need to cum again. I decided I need two from you before I fuck this sweet little fucking pussy,” he grunted. With sudden and almost startling accuracy, Rafe slapped me again. This time, his hand made contact not with my ass but with my pussy, the sharp slap making me gasp and jerk from the pain. I let out a half-aborted scream and rocked back into his palm, panting from surprise. He openly laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot how much you liked that, did you, darlin’? Remember that real fucking well? So I’m gonna take care of this pussy just the way I know you need it.” I let out a breathy moan mixed with a cry as he spanked my clit once more. Again and again and again he did it until I felt like I was dripping sweat on my whole body and my pussy was soaked with my juices—the couch too for that matter. “Fuck me, baby, your pussy is so pretty all puffy like this. She’s just crying for me. You want me so bad your poor fucking brain can’t handle it, can it?” I let out a pathetic little whimper, unable to muster much more. “I tell you what, darlin’. You cum from me slapping this pussy and I’ll fuck you til you pass out if that’s what you want. You wanna do that for me?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I gasped immediately, hardly even grasping the words just knowing that I wanted the pleasure that had been slowly building to finally reach its fucking crescendo.
“Good girl,” he said before unleashing a series of slaps to my pussy in a pattern that I couldn’t have anticipated if I were in his damn brain myself.
This time, as I tumbled over the edge of pleasure, I wailed, jerking against his hand. I collapsed against Rafe’s leg as the aftershock of the second orgasm washed over me. I gasped for air like I’d been drowning and I felt Rafe’s hand tracing up and down my back lazily. As I caught my breath, he placed a final sharp slap to my pussy making me let out a weak yelp of complaint. Without being too gentle, Rafe maneuvered me off of his lap and over the arm of the couch. He let out an appreciative groan and I lifted my head to look back at him. I was startled to see him lifting the belt. My eyes widened as I felt him wrap it around my wrists, quickly binding me.
“You’re not getting away from me, gorgeous. Not when I finally get to fuck my pussy again. You’re nice and ready for me,” he said, sounding almost absent-minded as he spoke to me. He grunted as he slid into me with a single thrust. When he bottomed out we both let out moans—his low and mine high and keening—and I felt my body shake. “Fuck. When you can feel your legs I’m gonna fuck you so hard in doggy you’re gonna not walk the day after. But right now I just gotta finish the job, baby. Gotta turn your fuckin’ brain off forever.”
With that, he started to purposefully piston his hips, holding my bound wrists behind my back for better leverage. I was nearly boneless, shrieking in pleasure as his hot, throbbing cock stretched me open and brushed against each and every nerve ending just right—at least that was how it felt. How he felt. His thrusts were deep and slow and pointed. I sobbed against the feeling, wanting to rut back into him to make him speed up. But, I couldn’t muster the strength. So I just let him fuck into me at his own pace and I felt myself starting to build towards another bout of pleasure—this bound to be even stronger than before if the stars already behind my eyes were anything to go by.
“Daddy, please,” I sobbed, not knowing if I wanted more or less stimulation, more or less pleasure, from him.
Regardless of what I wanted, Rafe didn’t say anything. He grunted out a noise of acknowledgment that I’d spoken then doubled down in his efforts to make me cum again. And when he wrapped his arm around my throat again, tightening quickly and entirely, it was over. This time, as he forced me to a third orgasm, I was actually sobbing, tears running down my face from the fucked up amount of pain and pleasure entwined in being so overstimulated in such a short period of time—especially after so long away from him.
“There’s my good fucking girl,” Rafe said, voice slightly hoarse as he slowed his thrusts to a stop.
He still hadn’t cum himself, his dick fully pulsing inside of me with how hard he was. I dreaded what that meant, even though I also fully anticipated what I knew would come. He gently undid the belt from around my wrists, releasing me, and then eased himself out of me. He flipped me around on the couch and I looked at him with big watery eyes.
“Please no more,” I said, tears slipping down my cheeks. “It’s too much, please.”
“Come on, darlin’,” he cooed, pressing kisses to my cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You can give me one more. Been missing my pussy so much. You know I need one more from her.” Another series of kisses, the last one a long and lingering, filthy one to my lips where his tongue entwined with mine and we both pulled back needing air. “Please, baby. One more for me.”
His hand moved down, gently tracing my clit, making me jolt. Already I was so sensitive, so overstimulated. But, the impossibly sweet and imploring look on his face? The hunger he had for me? It was impossible to deny.
“Okay, daddy,” I agreed, sniffling.
He leaned his forehead against mine, grinning. “That’s my girl,” he said softly.
He hitched my leg up over his hip, settling between my legs on the couch. He used his free hand to grip his cock, looking down at us. He gently slapped the head of his dick against my clit once, twice, a third time until I whined and he chuckled, reaching over to press a short kiss to my lips to shut me up. He ran himself up and down my slit over and over until I was shivering and he saw a tiny dribble of new arousal dripping from me. He let out a low moan of his own and then sank into me in one, hitching my leg up again so he could thrust as deep as humanly possible.
“There you are, gorgeous. There’s my beautiful fucking girl,” Rafe praised, pressing a kiss to each cheek, to my lips, and to my forehead as he steadily thrust into me. “So fucking perfect for me. So fucking good for me, baby.”
“You feel so good, daddy,” I said, eyes rolling back and then curling as he pressed down on the slight bulge in my stomach only present because of him. “Thank you, daddy.”
“Anything for you, baby. Fucking anything,” he grunted. He ground slower against me instead of thrusting for a few moments. “You don’t get to keep me from my pussy anymore, baby. I gotta fucking be with you.”
“Wanna be with you, daddy,” I babbled in agreement.
“Good fucking girl,” he huffed, pressing down on the bulge again making me whimper. I felt his dick pulsate again and I tightened around him habitually making his breath hitch. “You gonna cum for me one more time, baby? I’m so fucking close.”
“Yeah, daddy, I’m gonna cum,” I whined. “Please can I cum? Please, please, please?” I begged.
“Fu-fuck yeah,” Rafe stuttered. “Cum with me baby.”
And this time, as I fell across pleasure’s razor edge once more, Rafe fell with me. I felt as he came inside me, hot and deep. My eyes rolled at the feeling, almost addicted to the mere feeling of him being so close and intensely part of me at that moment. I held him without realizing it, nails digging into the skin of his back as I held him against me, ignoring the fact that I was trembling like a leaf.
“So proud of you, my sweet girl. So good for me, gorgeous. Love you so much. So good for me.” Those were the first things I was coherent of hearing again when the whooshing in my ears had faded. They were the sweet praise that Rafe was offering. He went to move—to pull out—but I held him to me still, almost wrapping myself around him like a koala to stop it.
“No,” I denied. “Don’t move yet.”
“Okay, baby,” he agreed. “I won’t pull out. Do you want me to hold you?” I nodded. He carefully moved us. I winced as he adjusted us so that I was sitting up and in his lap because it made him deeper for a moment still but as we settled that faded and I just melted into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You did so good.” He stroked my skin and hair for a moment. “I gotta get you cleaned up, sweet girl. Get you some water.”
“Not yet,” I denied again, eyes closed as I leaned against him, as much of my skin touching him as possible. “Take care of me in a minute.”
He chuckled. “Oh? You’re gonna let me take care of you?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered absent-mindedly. “Fine. You can take care of me, Rafe. I’ll stop being stubborn.” I needed his help. He’d been right about that when he showed up, I was adult enough to admit that. And I knew that he loved me. That he meant it from the best place.
“Really?” he asked, disbelieving. “You’re gonna move in with me? Let me take care of you? Just like that? All I had to do was fuck you like that?”
“Yeah. That’s all you had to do,” I agreed, far too exhausted to explain the complex detail of it in truth. I let out a breathless laugh though, a thought occurring to me when I felt a cool bite of metal and plastic on my leg. “Well, as long as you don’t get arrested for busting out of house arrest.” I cracked open my eyes to give him a smile.
“Shut up, I'll be fine,” he muttered. His hands held me closely, tightly, possessively to him. “You don’t get to take it back. I get to take care of you now. To make sure you’re safe. You’re gonna live with me, sweet girl.”
“Okay, Rafe,” I agreed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. He leaned into the touch and I smiled. “I will.” I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, laying my forehead against his.
“I love you, baby,” he murmured, so quiet I could barely hear it.
“I love you too,” I replied, just as quiet, just as simple.
He smiled at that, the sight making his eyes go warm and sweet. “Alright, then, gorgeous. Let’s get you cleaned up and get the fuck out of here,” he said. His smile morphed into a cheesy sort of grin—the kind I rarely got to see. “Let’s go home.”
For once, I couldn’t disagree. And I couldn’t help but echo the cheesy smile. “Okay, then, Romeo,” I teased. “Let’s go home.”
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron one shot#obx x reader#obx smut#obx x you#obx fic#obx fanfiction#obx angst#outer banks x reader#outer banks x you#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks fic#rafe imagine#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron obx#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#my writing#obx
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─ ✰ BREWING AFFECTION.
✧˚ · . NAGI SEISHIRO loves sleeping, soccer, and gaming. he also doesn’t mind you coffee too.
— warnings: coffee shop! au, fluff, crackfic, reo hating on readers barista skills, downbad nagi (hes oblivious af), maybe ooc?
— author’s note: NOT TUMBLR BUTCHERING THE QUALITY OF MY HEADER. THIS IS NOT OK.
"…so… this was the coffee shop you were talking about?” reo probes nagi tentatively, face crinkled in slight confusion. the small café nestled in the hidden corner of some obscure street— nothing extravagant, and certainly not what he expected. it’s a quiet sanction, only a few patrons savoring the quiet ambience of the modest establishment.
"mhm," nagi hums in affirmation. his eyes are glued to his screen, fingers violently tapping his phone as he skillfully maneuvers through the critical attack from the boss battle. reo doubts he was listening to a word he was saying. he raises his eyebrows skeptically, surveying the surroundings of the quaint little shop. he’s well aware nagi sacrifices fifteen whole minutes of his precious sleep on wednesdays and saturdays to walk all the way here— there must, has to be something special about this place. yet all he can spot are a couple of worn-down couches, cute decorations, and the smell of grinding beans in the air; nothing particularly stands out.
'is the coffee just that good?' reo wonders to himself, his thoughts interrupted when you hastily set a tray down at their table. your hair is tied in a messy bun, name tag displayed largely at the side of your stained apron. "i'm so sorry— morning rush! two triple foam lattes, half a shot of espresso with a dash of cinnamon, right?" the words tumble out, an apology and a question all in one, accompanied by a warm aura that absolutely nobody else in customer service seemed to carry.
…that’s… not…. even close… he deadpans. “um, actually—” he starts, but is quickly interrupted by nagi cutting him off. “t’s good. thanks.” he mutters, hazy half-lidded grey eyes boring into your oblivious, starry-eyed ones. the tips of his ears turn the slightest bit pink as he blows a tuft of his hair out of his eyes. his phone is completely discarded, ‘GAME OVER.’ pixelated largely on his screen as reo’s eyes widen slightly. …did he… die on purpose? no way. but… he was just about to beat the whole game…?
you smile giddily. finally, you got an order right!! “really? i’m so glad! enjoy your drink!” you eagerly exclaim as you walk away, feeling encouraged to pump out the other orders.
“…we ordered two large macchiatos.” nagi shrugs lazily, fiddling with the plastic straw in his drink. “tastes the same. ‘t’s too much of a hassle to correct them.”
“whatever,” reo sighs, “we’ve been waiting thirty minutes for this— it better make my mouth orgasm.” thirstily taking a huge slurp of the drink, he lets the coffee settle for a moment before not so subtly gagging at the aftertaste. how can someone possibly screw up this badly? it tastes like… tepid brown water. this should be a war crime. no offense, but who thought it was a good idea to hire you? “uhm… it’s *retches* certainly an acquired flavour…” he represses another gag as the fluffy white haired male tunes him out once again.
as reo contemplates the questionable quality of his latte, nagi remains blissfully unaware of his own feelings, doing what he does every wednesday and saturday morning— unconsciously admire you from a distance, his attention shifting from reo to you. his fingers idly trace the ridges on the rim of the cup, distractedly watching as you struggle to get the coffee to start brewing.
and he can’t exactly understand why his heart is beating out of his chest (perhaps he’s having a stroke), why his face is tinted red (is it the cold nipping at his cheeks?), or why he only seems to want coffee when you’re there (it simply tastes different). it all doesn’t make sense to nagi’s simple little life, a simple repetition every day; sleep, soccer, game.
nagi seishiro finds the easiest of tasks to be a hassle. yet for some strange reason, waking up early on wednesdays and saturdays isn’t one of them.
©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.
#blue lock x reader#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#nagi x reader#nagi x y/n#nagi x you#bllk x reader#bllk x y/n#bllk x you#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro x y/n#nagi seishiro x you#blue lock fluff#blue lock#nagi fluff#bllk fluff#bllk drabbles#coffee shop! au
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First of all, I would like to say that I love your art! 🥺💕
Second, can I request how Buddha, Poseidon, and Hades would react if the (gn) reader teases them under the table in the middle of the gods meeting? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Thanks in advance because I know I'm going to love what you're going to write.🛐
You're really sweet anon☀️❤️ comments like this really melts my heart and lights up my rainy days💞 I really hope I did a good job, sorry if it's not good🙏
RoR characters being teased by their s/o under the table!
BUDDHA
🍬Okay, Buddha really didn't want to go to that meeting. But you forced him to go: it's been some time now that you've had the intention of spicing up your love life, something more risky, exciting. Buddha knows how to be lazy when he wants and often you have to keep the libido high, it was time to teach him a good lesson.
🍬Buddha always sits in the back, dark seats whenever the gods have one of their big gatherings: he doesn't want to stand out and wants to nibble on his snacks in peace. But not that day...poor Buddha didn't even know what he was getting into...
🍬You sat on his lap, your place of honor, eating a candy you'd stolen from your lover without showing up. Buddha wasn't entirely interested: he kept yawning, throwing some paper at the head of the minor deities, in short, the usual. But not for long. It wasn't too long before you shifted your position to straddle him directly. "What are you doing, bunny?" he will ask you, intrigued.
🍬His response came when your hips started to move slightly, using the excuse of getting comfortable. For a second, Buddha's eyes darted around him to see if anyone was watching, and then he thanked himself for choosing a fairly secluded spot; so, she decided to relax and let you do it, even though it was nearly impossible to hold back the moans.
🍬"Little bunny...someone may see us..." he whispers in your ear, breath hot and short against your skin. But in reality, he didn't mind being caught, on the contrary, perhaps the idea of being seen would prompt him to give the gods one last slap in the face, bragging about his fun with a grin, as his hands rest lazily on your hips.
POSEIDON
🌊The Zeus of the Sea had already left the temple annoyed: meetings between the gods were never one of his favorite ways to spend the day, especially if it meant enduring the shouts of the noisiest deities. You too seemed bored, especially given the judgment that others had of you, being a nymph and not a diety.
🌊Boredom was starting to set in, which wasn't showing up on the other Olympian deities, too busy arguing and gossiping among themselves to notice your arm moving slowly up and down under the table.
🌊Poseidon, sitting next to you, had his eyes closed, beautifully ignoring your soft hands wrapped around his penis; all he thought about was how long it will finish before you get tired. If you ignore her she will get tired, right? No, not this time.
🌊Your fingers danced gracefully, taking their time as they went up and down, again and again. Poseidon kept his eyes closed so as not to open wide them wide and glare at you, but what the hell were you even thinking? He hated performing romantic acts in public, even less sexual acts, but if he stopped you, the others would surely find out something's wrong.
🌊Once you return to his temple, as punishment the god won't even touch you with a finger, waiting for you to crawl back to him with an apology worthy of your crime. "Next time think about it twice, I won't repeat myself"
HADES
💀Hades sat serious, ethereal and focused on his throne. His gaze moved to everyone present, while he let his little brother Zeus take the reins of the meeting. The lords of Olympus had gathered as usual to discuss their realms; you and your husband had arrived early and Hades was about to turn around, before seeing his wife dive under the table.
💀He didn't even have time to ask you what you were doing, that the door of the huge hall swung completely open, announcing the entry of his precious brothers. Hades was shocked, but he pulled himself together instantly, sitting in his seat without saying anything to avoid embarrassing you. So, the king of the Underworld just decided to roll with it.
💀Everything was going well, at least until Hades felt the zipper of his pants come down. The god looked down, halfway between furious and frustrated, stiffening as your glittering eyes met his. He blushed noticeably as your lips began to leave soft kisses on his crotch and boxers, making him shiver slightly in anticipation.
💀"Brother Hades, are you all right?" asked Zeus, unaware of the other's difficulty in keeping silent. The king of Hellheim was biting his tongue, his cheeks were red and his breathing heavy, a light sigh sucked from his lips every time your lips massaged his cock; always leaving a trail of kisses behind. "Absolutely, dear brother..."
💀At the end of the meeting, Hades will forcefully pull you out from under the table, lay you down on the table and grab your wrists. His breathing heavy and his eyes misty with lust. "Did you enjoy yourself, little one? Such a cute face, but we'll have to work on that attitude of yours...bad ones deserves a punishment..."
#record of ragnarok#ror x reader#ror x you#request#snv x reader#snv x you#shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader#shuumatsu no valkyrie#snv hades#hades x reader#ror hades#record of ragnarok hades#ror poseidon#snv poseidon#poseidon x reader#poseidon#record of ragnarok poseidon#snv buddha#buddha x you#buddha x reader#ror buddha#record of ragnarok buddha
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I need a fic about Miguel lusting after nurse fem!reader! I imagine he got hurt around her apartment and being that he is Spider-Man and she is a nurse she decides to take him into her apartment and fix him up. She is so caring and kind to he and this starts to become a thing where spider-man gets her to heal him.
So Miguel never reveals his identity to her but he’s like falling hard for her. Like thinking about her all the time (especially when he is in the shower lol). Let’s say one day he’s feeling like a little under the weather so he decides to go to where she works to get a check up and medicine (and hopefully to see her outside of his costume for once) so when he finally sees her he’s trying to charm her flirt a bit like he does when he’s behind the mask, but she is not having it. She acts cold and disinterested because one, guys flirt with nurses all the time and two, she has feelings for spider-man. Then you can do what you want with the ending but I would like if they get together in the end maybe you can squeeze some NSFW in there. Honestly this might make a pretty cute series!
little nurse
pairing: miguel o’hara x nurse fem reader
contents: mentions of blood/injuries and masturbation (m)
author’s note: decided to split this up into two parts, i hope you don’t mind :) very limited medical knowledge btw (one szn of grey’s anatomy and dr mike accounting for that 😖)
word count: 4.1K
Miguel O'Hara appeared in your life out of thin air. Literally.
You were trudging home from work around eleven at night, your scrubs smelling like disinfectant and dark circles adorning your under eyes. You'd been looking forward to taking a shower and getting as much sleep as you could before your next shift, your plans completely shifting when someone dropped in front of you. A masked man landed in front of you, clad in a Spider-Man costume. The sleep that you were longing for quickly faded away, replaced by a feeling of concern as you kneeled over to see if he had fractured his spine or his head with the fall. "How many fingers am I holding up?" You asked, holding up three as you waited for some kind of assurance that he was awake.
After receiving no response from the man, you dragged him into your apartment to work on him inside. You were grateful to whatever entity there was above that you lived in a downstairs apartment, the task of taking the man inside proving more difficult than you'd originally thought. You let out a small huff as you dragged him onto the rug in the center of your living room, shutting the door afterwards. You looked down at the man, almost tempted to take off the mask and reveal who was underneath the Spider-Man mask. After more careful consideration, you decided that it probably wasn't the best idea while he was in such a vulnerable position and grabbed your phone from your purse.
You'd gotten some old blouses that you were planning on throwing away, using them as a tourniquet around his stomach to stop the bleeding. You pressed two fingers to his neck to try to feel for a pulse, a bit slow but at a steady rhythm. After making sure his heartbeat was stable, you pressed your head down to your chest to listen for his breathing, the sound coming out ragged. "Stay with me, please," you silently whispered as your bloody fingers typed away at your phone screen, opening up the phone app. You'd finished up typing up the final one of the emergency number, a large gloved hand stopping you from answering the dispatcher on the other line.
"No, no. Please don't do that," the masked man underneath you pleaded as he slowly started to regain consciousness. You were made aware that not only would he run the risk of getting his identity exposed, but he'd also run the risk of having the nypd arrest him for the crimes he's committed as a vigilante. "Now do you understand why I can't go to the hospital?" He asked, almost like he wanted to make sure what stood at stake for him. "Okay, I'll trust you for now. But if you start bleeding out in my living room, then I'll take you to the hospital. Does that sound good?" You answered reluctantly, watching as he nodded.
You grabbed some gloves from one of your kitchen drawers, kneeling down next to him as you reached for the zipper on the back. "Do you mind if I take this off?" You asked, wanting to get his approval before you got started on anything. "Whatever you need to do to me, doc," he answered, sitting a bit up so you could reach the zipper better. You zipped down his suit, pulling it off his arms and sliding it down to his stomach. "How's your head? You hit it pretty hard when you fell," you asked him, wanting to get a better assessment of how his health was. You felt around his stomach, trying to find if there was any internal bleeding but you knew that the results would be more accurate with a CT scan.
"My head's fine, just a bit of blindness in my right eye," he deadpanned, your eyebrows practically shooting up to your hairline as you turned to look at him. "I'm joking, doc. I'm all good," he added, a small chuckle following after. "I'd smack you if your ribs weren't probably broken right now," you muttered, getting up from the floor to grab a suture kit from your bedroom. Only the sounds of his breathing could be heard as you worked on the large gashes covering most of his abdominal region, steady fingers working the needle through the thread to stop any further bleeding. You wiped away at some of the dried blood, cleaning him up to the best of your ability before pressing your hands down on his stomach to see if he had any further pain.
"I don't have any strong meds at my house, I only have Tylenol so I hope that works for you," you announced as you looked over at your medicine cabinet, surprisingly empty for the line of work that you'd chosen. "Give me the prognosis, doc. How long do I have to live?" he asked as you handed him the bottle of pills with a glass of a water. "I'm not a doctor, just a nurse. And I'd say a couple more minutes, if you're lucky. Might last longer if you don't annoy me as much," you teased him back, grabbing a couple bandages to finish up with the job. You wrapped them around the places where you placed the stitches, making him a little first aid kit just in case he'd need it. "If your stitches pop out or anything, just come back here. You know where I live."
He pulled the zipper back on, grabbing the first aid kit from you before he headed towards the door. "I'll see you next time I get hurt, little nurse," he told you, making it seem more like a promise than a goodbye. "Try not to make this a daily thing, please," you responded before he had the chance to leave, the eyes of his mask slightly raising. "I can't make any promises, lindura," he swung away after he finished speaking, sticking to the building in front of your apartment complex. You couldn't help but look out at him as he left, watching the way that he maneuvered the webs to the best of his ability despite the injuries that he'd sustained.
Miguel continued to seek you out as his nurse every time that he got hurt after that, enjoying the small banter and jokes between the two of you. Getting to be around you once more felt like the highlight of every fight that he got into, the assurance that you would be there to patch him up giving him the motivation that he needed to get up and fight crime. Despite the small jabs that you took at him, you proved to care about him time and time again with each wound that you treated. You never asked him any questions about his identity, never made him out to be anything bigger than what he had to be. Despite the fact that he wore the mask around you, he'd never felt more exposed around a human being in his life before.
Miguel found himself to be distracted by the thought of just seeing you again, constantly. He found himself wanting to get hurt just so he'd have an excuse to need your assistance, to have your soft hands running across his flesh as you stitched him up. His attention wasn't diverted only when he was dressed up as Spider-Man, the affection that he held towards you following him all the way to the lab he worked at. He'd mixed up two chemicals that he shouldn't have, causing a negative reaction in one of the rats that he was testing on and having to discard his experiment completely. "Focus, O'Hara. We're not here to pick up after your messes," his co-worker and superior, Aaron Delgato, told him during lunchtime with that same stupid smug expression he always carried on his face.
Normally, Miguel would've had something to respond back with but he couldn't find it in him to care that much at the moment. "Yeah, yeah," he ended up muttering back, pushing away his concerns as he sipped at the bitter coffee from the cafeteria. Normally the bitter taste of the coffee would've made him spit out the substance, the taste becoming slightly better when you were at the forefront of his mind. Instead of throwing it away after the first sip, he ended up taking a couple more sips before throwing it away in the sink. He spent the day at work focusing on his reports, having to stay a bit later to make up for the work that he'd messed up earlier just so he wouldn't have to deal with Aaron's condescending comments and stupid smirk as he questioned Miguel's ability to work the job he did.
He got home at around 6:30, two hours after his shift ended. The sound of door closing echoed throughout the empty halls of his home, the environment completely devoid of anything homely apart from a couple pictures and a bookshelf full of scientific journals that he'd enjoyed. He stripped away from his clothes once he got into his bedroom, wanting to remove himself from the lab as much as possible. He got into the shower before he had to head out for his vigilante duties, knowing that he knew would be too tired to do so when he got back home. The cold stream of water hit his muscles as he stood underneath, putting his forehead against the cold tiles of the wall. He felt depraved as he thought about you while he stood here, feeling himself grow more and more ashamed as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand around his cock.
Eventually, he ended up giving into his desires and wrapped his fingers tightly around his cock. He closed his eyes to help him envision a scenario with you, his mind running through with images of you underneath him. His grip on his cock tightened, wanting to replicate the feeling of what your cunt would feel like. He smeared some of the precum leaking out of his tip all around his shaft with his thumb, letting out a small hiss as he felt himself growing more aroused with every second that passed. He started off slow, wanting to prolong this orgasm as much as possible.
He pictured you starting off by sticking your tongue out for him as you sat on your knees underneath him, doe eyes looking at him expectantly as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Your mouth would engulf around the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it to capture every drop of precum that leaked out. His thumb ran around his tip to simulate every aspect of his scenario, precum sticking to his fingers as he did. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful you would look as you struggled to adjust to the feeling of his cock around your mouth, tears threatening to leak through as you fought off the urge to gag. "Oh shock, keep going," he moaned out, almost feeling like you were in the room with him.
His hand moved faster around his cock, fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft as he tried to get himself off. His eyes remained closed as the cold water ran through his body, his mind still continuing with the scenario from earlier. He felt his cock twitch in his hand, picturing how you would look with ropes of cum splattered onto your face. His release was more uneventful than he'd expected it to be, hit with the clarity of the situation immediately as the water washed the sticky substance from his hands. His forehead remained pressed against the shower wall, wanting to eliminate every negative thought that he'd been presented with. He felt perverted for taking advantage of you in this way, of taking advantage of the way that you were just so ready to help him out, but he couldn't help but feel his desire for you grow even more with every smile that you gave him.
He got out of the shower a couple minutes later, taking a few moments to reflect on what he'd done before finishing up with the rest of his shower routine. "Did you finish making the final adjustments to my suit?" He asked as his hologram assistant appeared next to him, a towel wrapped around his waist as he walked to the closet. "I did. You should find the material to be a bit more durable than the one that you previously used. Though the news reports show that it's going to be close to freezing so I would recommend for you to stay home," LYLA responded, before giving him the detailed report of what she'd done to his suit. "Crime doesn't stop just because it's a little cold. I'm sure I'll be fine," he muttered, grabbing the suit hanging up on the back of his closet.
Miguel shivered as he sat on top of a rooftop, overlooking the city as he waited for something to happen. He would have to make a mental note to add some insulation to the redesign of his suit, finding every minute outside to be excruciating. He removed the bottom part of his mask, blowing onto his bare hands as he rubbed them together. His feet swung on the edge of the building, ears perked up as he tried to listen in on conversations to discern whether anybody actually needed his help tonight. He was about to leave for the night around 30 minutes later, his plans getting stopped when he heard a lady scream across the street.
Miguel handed the purse back to the lady who was getting robbed, fighting the thugs that had tried to rob her proving to be the most exciting thing that happened all night. "Thank you Spider-Man!" The woman called out as he swung away, receiving a curt nod in response before he swung away. He ended up having to fight a couple low-grade robbers and car-jackers, nothing too big for the night. He got back home after finishing up the mundane tasks, feeling himself shivering even as he was welcomed by the warmth of the fireplace in his living room. LYLA had already started with her remarks about how he probably ended doing himself more harm than good, getting shut off two minutes into her monologue. He stripped off his clothing, sitting down on his couch with his legs spread out as he tried to warm up.
Miguel let out a groggy moan as he got up to the sound of his alarm, rubbing his hand across his temples as he laid on the couch. He could hardly get up to go to the bathroom, finding himself unable to head into work today. "I need to call in sick today," Miguel mumbled into the phone, knowing that Aaron was probably rejoicing at his weakened state. "You already messed up the experiment and now you want to take the day off? You're really slacking here, O’Hara," aaron remarked with a small 'tsk', speaking just loud enough for anyone to be able to overhear their conversation. "I don’t see why I have to explain myself to you but I'm sick. The experiment's gonna end even more messed up if I do end up showing up," Miguel answered, a small cough coming out of his end almost on cue.
After getting the reluctant approval of Aaron to stay home, miguel made his way to his bedroom and snuggled underneath his blanket. "LYLA, set up an appointment for me tomorrow at the medical center downtown please," he asked his ai assistant, his words coming out raspy and hoarse. "Why would you want me to do that? I can give you a full health assessment and recommend the right types of medicine that you need, Way better than a doctor ever could," she responded, appearing next to him with a face mask and little nurse hat on. "If I wanted you to do that, I would've asked. Just set me the appointment please," he mumbled, reaching over on his bed stand to get a tissue. LYLA was about to protest once more, but decided to go ahead and do the task when she heard Miguel coughing once more.
Miguel spent most of the day in bed, sweating underneath his tiger blanket despite the fact that he felt himself shivering. He found out the hard way that Vaporub did not in fact cure every one of his aches, though his nose wasn't too stuffed up after using it. He got up around 6 pm when he felt his stomach grumble, walking over to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. He turned on the afternoon news, wanting to make sure there wasn't anything too bad threatening the city. He saw that there had been a couple reports of robberies around the city, leaving it up to the police since he wasn't sure how useful he would be with his nose running every minute. He turned off the tv and poured the chicken soup that had been brewing on the oven into plate, sitting down at the dinner table to have something to eat. All he could do for now was simply wait for what the doctor would prescribe him, a part of him hoping that he would be able to see you.
"Miguel O'Hara?" You called out, looking around the sickly people in the waiting room before a tall man stood up. "That's me," he responded, his sinuses clearly stuffed up as he spoke. You led him back into the rooms, walking to the treatment rooms as you looked through the clipboard. "It's been a while since you've been here so i'm gonna go ahead and update your medical file," you informed him, looking back at him as he nodded. You led him to a wall with a measure taped on it, grabbing a pen from one of the pockets of your scrubs. You were about to take his height, noticing that his figure loomed over the measure. Your eyes widened slightly, your mind rubbing through what you could possibly do.
You grabbed an extra measure from a drawer, grabbing a chair nearby before getting up on it to tape it up on the wall. "You could've asked me to do that, y'know? I wouldn't have minded doing a favor for such a pretty nurse," he mused as he looked up at you, his lips immediately pursing together at the dirty look that you shot him. You got off from the chair, looking up at the two measures taped together before counting the extra inches. "Alright, 6'9," you muttered to yourself, writing it down on the clipboard before motioning for him to step on the electronic scale next to the side. You took his weight after the machine stopped counting, writing down the results before leading him to his assigned treatment room.
You washed your hands at the sink, putting on a bit of hand sanitizer before putting on a pair of gloves. "What seems to be the problem?" You asked, wanting to get a synopsis of what he thought was wrong before you made any guesses. "The problem is that you haven't accepted a dinner invitation with me. I'm sure my cold would heal a lot faster if you did, just saying. Trust me, I'm also a doctor," he mused, relishing as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. While you'd had your fair share of patients flirt with you, having to deal with their advances tested your patience bit by bit. The man in front of you wasn't exactly unattractive, but he didn't make you feel the same excitement that you felt every time that you saw Spider-Man. You folded your arms and looked at him, staying silent until he decided to divulge what had been bothering him.
"My nose's stuffed up, my chest feels like it's full of phloem, and I can't stop coughing up a lung," he responded, allowing you to get a glimpse of what was really bothering him. "It sounds like you just have a cold but I'll get your blood work done just to make sure that I get an accurate result," you told him, grabbing a small needle to prick him. Before he got the chance to tell you that the blood work wouldn't reveal much, you'd already collected the blood in a small tube. "The doctor will be right with you, Mr. O’Hara," he'd heard you say before the door closed, leaving him alone with the knowledge that you didn't feel the same way about him while he was unmasked.
The doctor came in and did what they were supposed to, taking his heartbeat and his temperature. "It seems like you just have a cold, Mr. O’Hara. Take some time to rest at home and don't overexert your body," the doctor had warned him, handing him a small paper with a prescription for what seemed to be cough syrup on it. He took the paper from the doctor, looking over at you with a small smile as you stepped into the room. The doctor handed the chart over to you, giving you a shortened explanation of what the diagnosis had been. You read over his chart, reaffirming what the doctor had already said before you dismissed him.
"I forgot to mention, your blood test came back inconclusive. I'm sure it was just the machine since it said it couldn't really identify you as fully human," you told him before he had the chance to leave, his figure looming over yours as he waited for you to finish speaking. "I hope you get your machine fixed soon. I'm sorry if i did something to damage it. By the way, are you certain that you don't want to say yes to that dinner I mentioned earlier?" He insisted with his previous offer, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he waited for your response. "I'm sure, thank you for the very kind offer," you reaffirmed, stepping out of the room once he'd walked out.
You headed to the back to talk with your friends, seeing Miguel at the hospital's pharmacy to get the cough syrup prescription filled. "I heard you rejected your patient's advances when he asked you out to dinner. This one's pretty cute and rich, so what happened?" Nurse Maya asked you, pretending to sift through some files just in case a doctor passed by. "Girl, you know she's obsessed over that Spider-Man guy. How's it been going treating him for free, anyways?" Your other friend, Nurse Valeria asked, looking up from her computer just to take note of your expression. You hated how easy the news travelled in the hospital, avoiding Miguel’s gaze as you turned to look at your two friends.
"It's been going decent, thank you. And there's nothing new to tell, Spider-Man hasn't been showing up to my house lately. I kinda have missing being his little nurse," you responded, watching as they both rolled your eyes. "Of course you had to go and fall in love with the masked psycho," Maya muttered before the three of you talked about something else. You couldn't help but laugh as Maya went through her recent dating dilemma, blissfully unaware to the fact that someone had been listening to your conversation while they were waiting for their prescription to be filled.
Miguel couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips as he heard you speak about Spider-Man in the way that you did, speaking about his alter ego like a high school girl with a crush. "Mr. O'Hara?" The pharmacist behind the counter called out for what seemed to be the hundredth time, finally diverging his attention long enough from you to be able to do their job properly. "Thank you," Miguel mumbled awkwardly, the smile on his face quickly fading away as he paid for the cough syrup. He took a small spoonful of it in his car while he waited for the blue light to turn off, silently hoping that it would work and he could get back to fighting crime once more.
Though he felt a little discouraged at the way you'd shut him off with every flirting attempt that he made, he knew that at some level you had to feel some kind of attraction for him. His mind began coursing with different ideas of how to approach this situation, almost jealous of the way that you viewed his alternate ego. He started to wonder what it would be like if he was able to flirt with you the same way that he was able to as Spider-Man, what it would be like to have that confidence without the use of the mask. The way you spoke about him was almost endearing, the way that you described what it felt like to have Spider-Man come for your services and the way that you felt while you stitched him up. All that he knew is that he needed to come up with a solution about how to approach this crush for you and fast.
#muchosbesitos#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara spiderman 2099#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel o’hara across the spider verse#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#smut#atsv miguel#spiderman across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#miguel across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel x y/n#miguel x you#spiderman atsv#spiderman#spiderman smut#atsv smut#miguel fanfic#miguel smut#miguel atsv#spiderman 2099 smut
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i seriously need some sub soob🫢
like imagine him squirming and whining because you ONLY kissed his red tip thats leaking precum ehishsisidjdd im going insaneeee
warnings; sub!soobin obvi, sort of pervy, best friends who fuck each other (fwb), puppy pet name, big dick soob, slapping ?? balls??, gets a boner from cleavage, soobin is extra sensitive down there and cums a lot
When Soobin invited you over to his dorm, you don’t exactly expect to have nothing but your phone to turn to as he simultaneously gets worked up over some video game he’s playing and ignores you all around. You should’ve guessed this was going to happen, but you’re bitter about it anyway.
Is it a crime to have thought that he was implying something else by inviting you over?
“I’m bored.” you whine for the umpteenth time, your thumb with no thought scrolling through your feed of posts you’ve already liked and reposted.
When he doesn’t even spare a glance, you scoff and resort to a kick at his back—which to your credit, gets him to adjust his headset and look back to you.
“Yeah?” he mouths, not having heard you before.
You can’t help but think he looked cute today, his pinkish lips and the hair over his eyes making him look even more of a puppy, but before you could even get a word out, his eyes suddenly widen at the faint yell you could hear from his headset, immedietley turning around has he aggresively spams buttons on his controller in panic.
“Holy shit dude, get off my ass I looked away for one—”
You groan into his pillow, making sure to make it as dramatic as possible, proceeding to sulk right after. This was not a productive use of your time. Fifty entire minutes of laying on his bed as he plays a video game. The switch out of your sport bra for a push up right before you came over really is doing nothing for you right now.
When you hear a string of curses spilling out of his mouth, you look over your shoulder curiously and see that his screen was in spectator mode. “You lost?”
He groans, taking off his headset completely, his mic muted. “Mhm, got killed. What’s up though?”
You take note of the screaming now louder from his headphones. Probably at him for getting eliminated. You don’t let him be though, exhaling dramatically looking back to your phone, “What’s up is your bestest, number one, most treasured, hottest friend is horny, sexually frustrated, and bored out of their mind.”
Soobin chokes on practically nothing at the casual mention of you being horny. It’s dumb, like he’s a middle school boy with no experience.
He really was not used to the ‘thing’ between you guys, like, at all. The stolen kisses (which is to be noted very quickly turn into full blown makeout sessions) when no one’s looking, the occasional need to send pics of his hard on to you, slight panic and regret settling in when he sees the ‘read’ receipt with no sign of a response for an entire five minutes (are you not in the mood? did you hate it? will you stop what you guys have going on?), or even the late night calls when you decide to facetime him instead of responding to his blurry nudes through text, and then…well, phone sex seemed to be a normal standard of your friendship. Weirdly enough.
Even if by now you’ve fucked him well over a few times that a mere mention of feeling horny shouldn’t have gotten him as flustered as it just did. But it’s so sudden, the shift from being friends who strongly, and vehemently denied of the secretly dating rumors to…secretly fucking.
“Oh yeah?” comes out a lot more in a loser way than he intended because he basically chokes it out. He’s never been nervous around you, save for the beginning of your friendship.
You’re very much aware of how unjusted Soobin is to the sudden change in your dynamic. Even you think it’s odd that the person you end up texting when you get…needy is Soobin.
Soobin was never the guy you’d think of starting anything even remotely sexual with.
You’ve known him since the years of being taller than him, and you’ve come to learn about his many deep faults along with gross habits you would never let fly under the radar if from someone else, so for him to be the exact type of man you’ve been seeking lately in bed is, well, surprising.
He seems to be the only person who can satisfy you nowadays. But you try not to show it too much, basking much more in how easily he gets flustered. It’s adorable.
“Yeah,” you sigh, shifting position from your stomach to your back and after much contemplation, deciding to take the chance of sitting up straight, “Did you really invite me over to watch you game? You know I don’t play video games.”
You don’t miss the way his eyes trail down, for sure because your chest was in full view now, his tongue prodding out just a tiny bit to wet his lips, almost like out of instinct. That dog. You show a bit of cleavage and he’s already drooling.
To be fair, it is the exact reaction you were fishing out of him. So you’re definitely not complaining.
You end up stifling a laugh, to which he immediately catches like he’s been trained to know your laughs on cue, breaking him out of his daze—an awkward coughing fit delayed a few seconds after to distract from the fact that he thinks he might’ve been caught, blush quickly warming his cheeks. “You think they’re silly, yeah, I know.
“But they’re—they’re not!” he splutters out, “I thought if you watched me play with Beo—”
“Were you just staring at my tits?” you cut him off with half the ability to not just start laughing. It’s worth seeing Soobin’s eyes widen like a cartoon character.
“No!” he says immediately— the crack of his voice doing nothing to help you keep a straight face. See? Adorable.
Then he huffs out a scoff like he’s surprised you’d ever accuse of him of such scandalous behavior. “Just because we fuck doesn’t mean I want to do you every second of the day. I respect you.”
It’s like a game of your cocked brow calling bullshit (more on the fucking thing than respecting you) and him staring back just as intensely as if he truly was not just ogling at your chest. Okay then, fair enough. You’ll get him to break. And admit to it.
“So if I did this…” you unbutton one of the two buttons of your crop top, and your eyes intently watch the way he struggles to not watch your every movement, still keeping his eyes on your face.
Stubborn. You can work with that. He won’t last long.
You drag the unbuttoning of the second one, and when it finally pops out, it’s a full view of your cleavage, cool air of the A.C being the cause of the goosebumps appearing.
And you’re right. He doesn’t last long. Barely even five seconds.
“My eyes are up here idiot.”
He doesn’t even try to hide the blushing anymore, once again licking his lips. You can see the bob of his adam apple when he finally meets your eyes. “Can I see your tits?” he says—the shame of asking is something that overtime became a numbing feeling, because with each time you casually lift your shirt at his request, the easier it gets to push down the feeling of being a pervert.
You break into a wide grin at how easy and straightforward he was—a passing thought of hoping he’s not like, like this for every living thing with fatty tissue on their chest. It’s not jealousy, god no, but it’s better if this was only between you two… for safety reasons?
You pretend to ponder on it but he should know by now that the enjoyment you get out of teasing him is way greater than any feeling.
You decide on what you’ll say, an evil smirk making way. “Am I just a pair of breasts Soobin? Just for you to ogle at? I thought you respected me.”
He shuts his eyes, whining at seeing that his words were very quick to bite him in the ass. “Please. You know I’ll be good.” he whispers the last few words and that has an affect on you. Big one.
Because he isn’t lying. Soobin’s very obedient. And god, you love it. So much.
But you don’t show that, you never do—letting him chase after something for once. Maybe if he gets a little more desperate, you’d think about a quick flash. “You have plenty of my nudes saved, can’t you jerk off to those? Y’know, like you usually do.”
Is it fair to make a jab at the occasional, every so often muffled voice messages in response to even just a slightly revealing picture that you’re asking him the opinion of, where you could hear his unstable breathing and the wet sounds of his pre cum covered shaft? Probably not, especially when you also get off of pics he’d unknowingly send to be the most delicious, mouth watering photo you’ve seen yet.
Soobin, on the other hand, is like, sure he’d go insane. Ever since he was allowed to look at you in the not-only-friends way, he took up every chance you dangled in front of him like a dog with a bone. Showing a little bit of your cleavage? His mind’s running to images. Just thinking of kissing and sucking until your tits go sore makes him so shamelessly a pervert. Seeing the head of his cock disappear between your tits when you took it upon yourself that one day of giving him a taste of what a titty fuck was like—god, it’s forever embedded into his memory.
He still sulks over the fact that you didn’t let him take a video.
Suddenly his well fitted sweats have easily become the most suffocating piece of clothing, his bulge shy of peaking through the fabric and making an obvious imprint. He tries to not look like a sore desperate loser, to look just a tiny bit cooler, but you make it so hard that he’s willing to get on his knees. Like seriously.
You’re back on your phone, looking to be disinterested which makes him bite the insides of his cheeks—already overthinking. Were you mad that he asked to see?
He tentatively puts a hand on your ankle, gauging at least some sort of reaction. You give him that—a glance. “Sorry if like, um— I didn’t invite you just for games obviously— well, okay not ‘obviously’ but I, uh, also don’t think you’re like, a floating pair of…breasts or something.” You cock a brow, really curious of where this Soobin ramble of the day would go.
“You’re my bestest friend—is that corny to say? Shit, well, you are and I think you’re smart, and obviously really funny, and bright and so pretty, like, really pretty and I mean—”
“Soobin where the fuck are you?”
You both look at the headset next to him on the bed, the yelling loud enough to transcend the reason the product was made anyway. He looks back to you and you could tell he intends on finishing his monologue. “And I mean—” he starts again before cursing under his breath at the second time he gets cut off.
“Fucking cuck, are you ignoring us?”
He groans at the stupid item, as if it just ruined a critical moment. Then he looks back at you apologetically. God, he hopes you don’t leave. “Um, well I have to keep playing they’d kill me if—” he panics a little trying to explain but you’re on another train of thought entirely, thinking that this was perfect timing.
“It’s okay, keep playing!” You say, practically gleaming.
His facial expression is a mix of skeptical confusion and desperation. But instead of questioning your enthusiasm, he bites down on his lip for a second. “You—you won’t leave, right? Don’t leave. Please.”
You shake your head, mouthing an ‘I won’t’ and finally, he lets out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding in.
He doesn’t know why he’s so desperate for you to stay. It’s not like you don’t see each other, like every day of the week or even call each other when you somehow don’t. But regardless he wants you to stay, and he doesn’t mind coming off desperate for once.
The situation at hand is too obviously right in your face.
His ramble that was cut off short by who you made out to be none other than Beomgyu, and then Heeseung was…kind of sweet.
No, it was sweet. He thinks you’re really pretty? Not just pretty but really pretty. And smart? And funny? He’s so cute holy shit you could just reach out to pinch his rosy cheeks. But you didn’t and you probably won’t. Because something else caught your attention.
His bulge.
It was too…out there for you to not subtly look down every few filler word Soobin mumbled. You’re not sure what got him to pop a full blown boner. The teasing? You only said a few sentences and showed modest reveal of your boobs. But nevertheless, you try really hard to bite away a smile because holy shit, he really is easy.
And it fucking turns you on. More than it should. And more than it would if it was any other person.
If you felt horny before, you were basically drenched when getting a glimpse of his wide eyes at seeing you on the carpet, on your knees as you’re face to face with his crotch. He seems to freeze for a second before he quickly works to get his headset off, trying to abandon the game completely.
“No.” you say sternly, grabbing his dick through his sweats, “Keep playing.”
He mouths a big ‘what’, nearly whisper shouting, his eyes bulging out. You simply shrug, feeling all too smug, and start to palm him over the fabric. He lets out a sigh of pleasure, shutting his eyes.
“Dude, why the hell are you not moving? Fuck’s wrong with Soobin today?” You hear someone yell.
“If you stop, I stop.” You mouth slowly, and he seems to catch it, hands shaking as he reluctantly picks his controller up again.
“You’re evil.”
To that, you give him a smile, not really denying it. Because maybe you were, knowing how sensitive he is.
You hope Soobin’s mic is as shitty as you’ve heard Hueningkai complain a multitude of times, because if not, he’ll have a very hard time on call with his friends from now on. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s a bragging point to have a girl suck you off while playing video games.
You imagine it’d still be a bit awkward anyway.
“How come you’re so big?” you whisper, more to yourself than him, but he catches it, and still reacts, bucking his hips to your touch, groaning. You click your tongue, pushing him down with one hand, as a warning.
“Don’t move. Don’t take your hands off the controller. And don’t make a sound.” It doesn’t take him long before he nods, obediently fixating his eyes on the tv screen.
You coo at how hard he narrows his eyes, thumbs working its action—but you want him to break. Maybe you really are evil.
And maybe he already was breaking.
He spreads his legs more and more, before lifting his ass off the mattress, already impatiently needy.
“Touch me.” he whispers, only for you to hear.
You raise a brow, huffing out a laugh as you decide that maybe you should stop playing around and pull his sweats down to his ankles. You don’t waste a second to.
When you take in the state of his cock, your mouth could water just at how pretty it looks. You’ve seen it well over a dozen times—over pics, over facetime, in real life, but you’re never not in awe each time. His slit was already bubbling precum, the thickness of his dick eye widening— It’s not like you have small hands either, and yet you still can’t fully wrap your hand around him. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his size.
And god his tip was swollen red you’re sure if you just so briefly touched it he’d spasm and jizz all over your face. So you’re gentle. Or at least, you make an attempt.
Promptly grabbing his dick again, you could feel him grow heavier when you let it sit on your hand for a second. Soobin sighs into his mic, no doubt briefly catching the attention of his friends.
“Soobin, you’re dripping.” you comment, eyes following the trail of cum running down his length to your hand. It’s more in amusement, how he’s basically on the verge of an orgasm without much from you.
You could tell he’s using his last bits of patience to not just outright fuck into your fist, and it fascinates you. You start slowly dragging your hand on his shaft, made easier to navigate with his ridiculous amount of pre cum working as lube.
You watch as he adjusts his position subtly a few times, knowing that he’s trying to keep from slipping out any whines, pursing his lips. But his eyes betray him, they looked distant—not focused. “How many kills?” you ask.
“Zero.”
You furrow your brows, pouting as you still your hands. “I’ll speed up with each kill. You have to win for me puppy or I’ll get sad.”
Soobin doesn’t know exactly how he’d aim let alone manage a kill with the way you grip the base of his cock, but he knows that despite the sincerety of your words, he doesn’t like to think that you’d get sad. He so badly wants to make you proud in some way, happy with that glint in your eyes.
So, he gets a kill.
You hear the comments from his friends, passing compliments and you smile, slowly working your hand. “Got a kill.” he says under his breath, trying his hardest to not fall into the urge of shutting his eyes. Because god, you were good.
“Yeah? For me? Get another one puppy.”
A new fire ignites in his chest as he spams buttons, yearning to hear a praise slip from your lips. The way he knits his eyebrows in concentration and had his tongue peeking out was so adorable you almost lose control. Almost.
His breathing picks up as he says, “Another one.”
You get the confirmation he’s saying the truth by his friends again and you start moving your hand unfathomably fast as a reward, your hand getting sticky. “Gooood boy, getting all the kills.”
The sudden speed gets to Soobin, faltering his streak as he holds back choked up groans, head quickly becoming light. “Too much, too much.” he whispers, soft moans slipping through his breathing. You catch the way his hands loosen its grip on the controller and you smirk.
He’s way too easy to break.
“Too much? Should I stop?”
He shakes his head again, this time more frantic. You could make out the sparkly tears threatening to spill—you’re all too familiar with this. “Please don’t.”
“Then what? What do you want me to do?” you ask slowly, wet sounds of your hand working at his dick so dirty.
“Mouth,” he sighs, not controlling the way his hips buck into your hands despite your disapproval. “Want you to put it in your mouth.”
You almost laugh—your mouth? Last time, he barely lasted a second. You’re not doing that. But you’ll tease him about it regardless.
“Put what in my mouth?”
He doesn’t waste a breath. “Cock. My cock.”
You’re not even sure if he muted his mic by now, but the way he says it in that needy, desperate broken voice is so sinful you’re surprised you haven’t jumped his bones. Too bad you won’t give him what he wants—or at least not completely.
You rub your thumb over the head of his dick, dribbles of pre-cum still messily spurting from his slit. He’s not paying attention to the game—no, his eyes were focused entirely on you. You would scold him, but you’re entirely too aroused by the way his mouth basically waters in anticipation.
You maintain eye contact when you dip your head down slowly, an experimental kitten lick on his tip and he immediately thrusts his hip, dick slipping past your lips. You pull back, expecting that exact reaction—and he whimpers. Whimpers.
It’s not hard to pick up on the screaming from his headset, his friends clearly pissed off that hes been in the same spot for well over a minute now, becoming an easy kill to enemies on the other team. “Puppy, how come you’re losing? I thought you were doing well.”
Before he could respond, you tighten your grip on his shaft, and he groans, trying to bite down the noise—maybe he didn’t mute it after all. It’s almost animalistic how he chases your hand.
But you’re not as forgiving now—misbehaving boys get punished. You lick the underside of his dick, dragging the flatness of it up to his head, saltiness of his pre-cum overpowering your tastebuds before pulling back to see Soobin has basically abandoned the game, head thrown back as both his hands grip the sheets under him, letting out broken pitched moans.
You smile, knowing you gave him the impression that you’d put him in your mouth. No, you’re here to have your fun. He peeks through an eye at feeling you do nothing more, and the moment he does, you slap—hard. Maybe a tad bit harder than you intended.
Your aim was his nutsack, balls full of cum you could see he was holding from the week you’ve challenged him to not jerk off, and god—the way his eyes fly open, jaw slacking as his legs spasm, letting out a sound you’ve never heard a man make— you wonder why you haven’t done this sooner.
“You didn’t get off like I told you to right? Good puppy.” He nods frantically, his vision fogging.
He looks so broken, tears streaming down his cheeks faster than you could even take notice of. If his friends didn’t hear him before, they definitely heard him now. He’s a hiccuping mess, nose running when you decide to give him a little more, swirling your tongue around his tip, warm in your mouth— then you pull back before he loses control and starts fucking your mouth.
“Puppy can’t talk? Your friends know how much of a whore you are now…isn’t that embarrassing?” you coo, your hand still jerking him off. “What would they say knowing you’re my little mutt, obeying each and every word like a dog in heat?”
The words are getting to him. He tried to keep quiet for the sake of his pride— anyone knowing how desperate he gets for you is a hit to his ego, it’s embarrassing the amount of things he’d do just for a chance of eating you out, but this spurs him on— having you degrade him, telling him what exactly he is to you. Your obeying dog.
You could see his lips quivering, and notice the tensing of his body. Quickly, you part your hair to the side, take him in your mouth all the way, trying to relax your throat as to not gag when your nose finally presses against his abdomen—but of course you do, it’s hard not to with how thick he is. It doesn’t take a milisecond before you feel his load spilling down your throat, his big hands moving to hold the back of your head, orgasm crashing down like waves of the pacific came over him.
You stay there for a few more seconds, feeling yourself get lightheaded with how much he manages to cum, and even when you pull away with a need to take a deep breath, you see that his dick was still spurting little bits. “Holy shit.” you say under your breath, slightly coughing as you wipe away at the semen that managed to dribble down your chin.
Soobin had a lot stored.
Soobin falls backwards on the bed, chest heaving up and down, trying to catch his breath, some of his hair plastered to his forehead and his temple. There’s a lot of thoughts spinning in his head. And he doesn’t exactly know how to label them. Lazily, he takes his headset off, throwing it to god knows where.
“Hey. Question.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you fuck other people?”
You perk up at the question, the randomness making you stay silent for a bit until you shrug. “No, not really.”
Soobin sighs. He doesn’t know why. Was it relief? Maybe. Probably.
“Do you?” you ask it almost timidly, unknowingly playing with the threads of your ripped jeans. Thank god to Soobin because he answers quickly, not allowing for any space of anxiousness.
“No. Only you.”
You slowly nod, pursing your lips. “Cool.”
“Yeah, very cool,” then his brows furrow at a thought popping up in his head, “Wait, do you like,”
You raise your brows. “Do I what?”
“Like, you know, suck off other guys?”
You scoff, he’s so ridiculous. You don’t even get to see his reaction to your answers, as you’re sitting on the floor and his back is on the mattress. “No Soobin, I don’t suck off other guys. Well, not as of recently. You’re the only one I’ve been doing this with.”
“Oh, o-okay.” You snort at the cute stutter.
Too bad you don’t catch the small ‘good’ he says under his breath.
note: when i checked the word count I was so shocked we’re keeping that a secret 😭 appreciate any feedback!
#txt smut#soobin smut#sub!soobin#sub!idol#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#soobin hard thoughts#soobin hard hours
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