#never even crossed my mind at first watch
Note
Can I please a smut with dom siren!seonghwa?
I love the concept of a siren with him,
And I mean like the mermaid type of siren.
Thank you!!
Mommy
siren!hwa x fem reader
Trigger warnings: none that i can think of!
Content warnings: names (baby, my love, angel, mommy sorry not sorry he’s so mother), choking, oral (f receiving), very mild breeding kink, hwa uses his powers for sex good idk i just liked the idea lmao
Summary: your boyfriend just wants to reward you
Word count: 4.3k
A/N: bestie i’m so sorry this took so long but oooooh lord. anyways. two in a little over one week after being on hiatus? not too shabby. also decided to try something a little different with the pov so lmk what you all think! enjoy my loves! 🥰
Tags: @bahng-chrizz @foxinnie8
Smut below the cut
I let out a soft sigh as I curled up in my chair, looking out over the water. Sitting with my knees to my chest, I sipped my tea from my favorite mug as I watched the sunset. I’d inherited my brother’s beach house, which was settled in a quaint coastal town, a few months ago and had finally gotten settled into a routine. Every evening, I’d sit on my private dock and watch the sky turn shades of orange and pink before heading inside once the moon graced me with her beauty.
After a short while, I saw the very end of a tail pop out of the water before quickly dipping back below the surface. I smiled softly and stood, placing my tea on the table. I’d always loved watching the fishes and wanted to get a closer look. I’d never seen one with such a large tail in this area. How big could this thing be?
I walked to the edge of the dock and stared out at the water, trying to spot the fish again when I saw a brief splash only a few yards away. Excited, I laid down on my stomach and dipped a hand into the water. It was coming towards me.
But what greeted me a moment later was not a massive fish. It was the face of a man. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen, in fact. And he was emerging from the water, his face mere inches from mine. His hair was slicked back and water droplets ran down face, eventually dripping from his nose and chin. His lips were full and his cheekbones were high. He had a strong brow and curious, sparkling eyes. He looked elegant. Princely. Soft.
Of course, I couldn’t help but let out a scream as I scrambled back. “What the fuck?!” I shouted as I jumped to my feet.
“Who are you?” He tilted his head as he reached for the edge of the dock.
“Who am I? Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Seonghwa. I’ve seen you here before. Who are you? Where is the man who lives here?” My heart sank at his question and I frowned.
“I’m y/n. That man was my brother. He died and left me the house.” I said quietly, looking out at the horizon. “How did you know him?”
“He died?” The man, Seonghwa, looked alarmed as he started to hoist himself out of the water with wide eyes. “How? When? He said he’d come back.” He sounded frantic. Panicked.
“He was sick. It’s been about six months now.” I paused, crossing my arms over my chest. “But you didn’t answer my question. How did you know my brother?”
He paused when he was halfway out of the water and I noticed something shimmering on his body, a few inches below his belly button. “He was a friend. He saved me and in return I gave him company. We spent much time here on the dock.”
“He never mentioned that…” I said warily, backing away a few steps.
“I asked him to keep my existence a secret.”
“Why?”
“You remind me of him.” He suddenly changed the subject with a dazzling smile that left me breathless. Was my mind playing tricks on me or were his teeth just a bit too sharp to seem human? “He was just as guarded the first time we met. He saved me but then interrogated me for hours. I was a captive audience as I was injured but the conversation grew lighthearted once he was satisfied with my answers. He asked many questions. You do too.”
“It’s only natural to ask questions when a strange man emerges from the water and says he knew my late brother.” I rolled my eyes, fighting not to grin. The situation was bizarre not to laugh.
“You seem to have the same temperament as him too.” He hummed, seemingly deciding on something. “I can trust you then. But you have to keep my secret.” And with that, he jumped out of the water. I expected the secret to be that he was a local who went skinny dipping for shits and giggles but I stood in stunned silence when I saw a shimmering blue-green tail. The same tail I’d seen splash out of the water only a few minutes prior. He had fins on his forearms that I hadn’t noticed before and one running down his upper back that stopped halfway down his spine as well, all of them the same deep teal as his tail. His beauty was terrifying and would surely haunt me for a long while. Maybe even the rest of my life.
“Y-you…you- what the FUCK?!”
“Shh!” He brought a finger to his lips and I clamped my mouth shut, looking around to make sure none of my neighbors were outside. Their houses were quite a ways away since each house had a private dock with space for a mid-sized boat but I was certain I was loud enough to draw attention to myself. “You can’t tell anyone about this. They’ll hunt me down and torture me in the name of science.”
I nodded, dumbfounded as he transformed before my eyes. Within minutes, his tail was replaced with a pair of legs and he stood before me as any other human man.
And he was stark naked.
He was stunning. Slender, toned, and tan. His shoulders were a bit wider than his hips, which were narrow and led to a pair of long legs. my eyes trailed back up his legs, tempted to take in every part of his body, and I realized I was gawking.
I quickly looked away and cleared my throat awkwardly. “Um…would you like to come in? I still have some of my brother’s clothes, I’m sure something will fit.”
He nodded and started for my house, leaving me standing alone on the dock, dumbfounded by what was going on and admiring his ass. My big brother was friends with a fucking merman and never told me?! I rushed to catch up to him, grabbing my now-cold cup of tea as I chased after him. By the time I caught up, he was reaching for my door.
Once we were both inside, I turned towards him, once again forcing myself to make eye contact and not stare at his perfect body. “Just…wait here. I’ll be right back.” I instructed before scurrying off to one of the spare rooms where I kept my brother’s belongings.
“You changed things.” I heard him say and puffed out a sigh.
“Yeah. It was hard moving in and seeing all his things.” I explained, hearing his footsteps as he wandered around the living room. “I kept everything, I just put it all away.” I finally found the box of clothes and rummaged around until I found a pair of sweats and a loose tank top. I rejoined him and held out the clothes, looking anywhere but at him. “Here. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I’m alright, thank you.” He smiled again as he reached for the clothes and my heart raced. Something about him was drawing me in. He was intoxicating. “You're much prettier than him.” He said after a few moments of staring at me, finally taking the clothes and making his way towards the bathroom to get dressed as if I hadn’t just seen every inch of him.
“Um…thanks?” I stared after him, entirely bewildered at the turn the evening had taken.
————————————————
I let out a soft sigh as my fingertips danced over the scales that reached up his lower back. That night had been the beginning of my romance with Seonghwa, who was now a fixture in my life. The two of us had spent hours talking about my late brother, sharing stories and fighting back tears. He’d held me until I fell asleep and I woke up the next morning to the clothes folded neatly on the end of the sofa and a note on top, scrawled in beautifully messy handwriting. See you soon.
“You're staring again.”
“Hmm?” I lifted my head from my arm and offered a sheepish grin. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to. Just thinking.”
“About what?” He asked, shuddering as my fingertips ghosted over a particularly sensitive spot just above the fin that ran down the back of his tail.
“The night we met.” I hummed, laying my head back down with a tiny smile. “Beautiful.” I whispered, touching the same spot as before. I knew he liked it.
He smiled softly and pulled himself up on the dock, kissing my forehead. “It was the best night of my life.” He responded, opting not to address my comment.
“Mine too.” I whispered, closing my eyes at his touch. I opened my eyes a moment later and looked up at him. “Do you want to come in? It’s getting kind of cool out here.”
When he nodded, I got up and backed away, leaving space for him to get on the dock while I grabbed the clothes I’d picked for him. It had become routine for me to meet him at the dock with an outfit and watch the sunset before inviting him in. He usually stayed the night with me and then went back to the water during the day when I had to work.
I watched in awe as he transformed before my eyes. It was a mildly unsettling sight but I could never manage to tear my eyes away, always intrigued. He didn’t look bothered despite how uncomfortable the transformation appeared. He’d explained early on, with mild indignance, that he was a siren, not a merman like I’d originally thought, and told me how his magic worked. It was kind of confusing but the main points were that changing forms didn’t hurt him and that his power wasn’t simply used to lure sailors to their deaths, like most fantasy books said. In fact, he’d used his charms to lull me to sleep the night we met after seeing my grief over my brother.
Once he was dressed, we walked up the dock towards my house. His arms were around my waist the moment I closed the door. “You look so beautiful tonight, my love.” He murmured, pulling I against him.
“So do you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled up at him.
He leaned down and caught my lips in a gentle kiss, bringing one hand to the back of my head. I shivered when his fingers tangled in my hair and gave a gentle tug. After two years, he knew exactly how to manipulate my body and heat pooled between my legs as he nipped at my bottom lip. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he ignited such need in me.
I dragged my hands down his chest and inched my fingers under his shirt, whining softly when he pulled back. “Let’s go to the bedroom, darling.” His voice took on that tone I knew all too well and I quickly followed his instructions, knowing it was best to follow his orders.
When I reached my room, he sat on the bed and motioned for me to stand between his legs. I complied, smiling to myself when he slipped his hands under my shirt and lifted it over my head. He frowned at the sight of my bra and I laughed. “Don’t worry, it has a zipper.”
“Good. I fucking hate fighting with those hooks. They’re so finicky.” He huffed and for a moment I saw his cute, childish side. As soon as he noticed my adoring expression, however, he gathered himself and wrapped his arms around me. “My beautiful girl…” he whispered as he pressed his lips to my stomach.
I shivered at his tone as my hands moved to rest on his shoulders, goosebumps appearing on my skin at his touch. I didn’t speak as his tongue darted out to tease me, biting back a pathetic noise when he slipped a hand between my legs and touched me through my shorts. His touch was gentle, further cementing my thoughts on his elegance. He could never be rough with me unless I begged, despite possessing the inhuman physical abilities that all sirens had. I was too precious to him. Too fragile.
“Tell me, my love, what do you want? You’ve been such a good girl lately, I think you deserve a treat.” His voice took on that mind-numbingly sweet tone and I felt myself growing dizzy as a fresh wave of arousal washed over me.
“I want you, Hwa.” I whimpered, grinding down against his fingers.
“Hwa?” He paused, looking up at me. I froze on the spot. I knew what he wanted me to call him, what I secretly wanted to call him, but I was always too shy to do it unprompted. “Is that my name, baby?”
“No…” I bit my lip and fought hard to maintain eye contact.
“Say my name then.” His eyes seemed to grow dark for a brief moment and warmth flooded my chest as my stomach did a somersault. He was using his magic on me.
“M-mommy…” I whined softly, cheeks going a soft pink.
“Good girl.” He cooed and applied more pressure to my clothed core as he continued. “Now, tell me again what it is that you want.”
“I want you, mommy. Please?” I begged despite my embarrassment as his magic compelled me to do the tasks I was too shy to do without his…encouragement.
The noise he let out made my head spin and I clenched around nothing, my panties sticking uncomfortably to my folds. “My good girl even used her manners.” His tone was almost taunting as he pulled me onto his lap.
I stifled a small noise and settled on his thighs with no hesitation as his long fingers teased my hips. The skin just above my waistband once more erupted in goosebumps at his featherlight touch and I shivered. “Of course I did, mommy. I wanna be good for you.” I murmured, waiting for him to tell me what to do next.
He chuckled softly and nodded, hands sliding to squeeze my ass. “You always are, baby.” He assured me, leaning up to peck my lips.
The peck turned into a fiery kiss when I looped my arms around his neck and wiggled in his lap in an adorable attempt to grind on him. He was hard beneath my ass and I wanted to feel him. He made a sound in the back of his throat as he laid back and flipped us both over to pin me to the mattress. He immediately rolled his hips against mine and I gasped against his lips.
He broke the kiss and moved to trail his lips along my neck, sucking and biting occasionally. Each nip had I arching into him as heat pooled in my belly. “Mommy, please-” I gasped, gently tugging at his hair as his lips moved lower.
His elegant fingers tugged at the zipper of my bra, freeing my breasts in a matter of seconds. He pulled back just a bit to admire me and I saw his eyes darken with lust. He wasted no time in latching onto my left nipple, tongue swirling around the stiff peak. I let out a soft cry when I felt his teeth scrape over my skin and he promptly switched sides, focusing on my right breast.
Much to my dismay, he didn’t spend much time on my chest, opting instead to work his way lower. His lips ghosted over the spot he’d been teasing before pulling me to his lap and I sighed, eyes slipping shut. I lifted my hips when his fingers hooked in my waistband and bit my lip as my shorts and panties traveled down my legs.
After tossing my clothes aside, Seonghwa guided my legs apart and made an appreciative noise deep in his chest. “My beautiful girl…you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you?” I nodded immediately and he smirked. “But first, you're gonna let mommy suck on that pretty pussy, right, my love?”
“Yes, mommy.” I whimpered, clenching around nothing. It was almost embarrassing how wet I was when he’d barely done anything. Almost.
“Good girl.” I moaned weakly at the name and he chuckled softly. “You always respond so well to that name.” He cooed as he leaned down. He kissed my belly while his hands guided my legs to his shoulders, tongue circling my navel like he knew I liked.
“Tickles…” I whispered and bit my lip, lifting my head to watch as he brought his mouth a breath away from my aching cunt. He didn’t immediately dive in and I wanted to scream but managed to keep my composure as he blew on me.
He ran a single finger through my folds and I felt my body grow weak. Keeping my head up so I could look at him was becoming a chore as he finally pressed a chaste kiss to my clit. I felt dizzy from the simple touch. “Mommy, please…” I whimpered, fighting the urge to grab a fistful of his silky black hair and drag him into me.
My plea seemed to be the only thing he needed because a moment later he sucked my clit into his mouth and a low growl rumbled in his chest at my resulting moan. One thing I loved about Seonghwa was just how enthusiastic he was to go down on me. He ate pussy like a madman and always made sure to finish me off before we even got to the actual fucking. I could live with his head between my legs.
The fight to keep my head up was lost and I found myself staring at the ceiling, my eyes slipping shut a moment later as a long, slender finger entered me. “Mommy…” I mewled, my hands moving to my chest.
“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” He groaned against me and my hips bucked of their own accord. He brought an arm up and slung it across my hips, pinning me to the bed. “Don’t move, angel. Let me enjoy my meal.”
“Sorry, mommy.” I bit my lip as I tugged at my nipple, my back arching slightly when he curled his finger. “Oh-” I gasped.
He didn’t say a word as he added another finger and quickly curled them to reach that same spot that had my whole body burning. He licked and sucked until my legs trembled on either side of his head. He made a small appreciative sound against me and the vibrations damn near made me squeal.
Then he pulled back and I was about to pout when he added a third finger. He curled them instantly and his pace became rough and my back bowed off the bed. “Oh my god!” I cried out, quickly bringing my hand to my mouth. I didn’t mean to muffle my sounds, I just needed something to sink my teeth into and my knuckles were perfect for the job.
He kept his pace and the coil in the pit of my belly wound tighter. He leaned back in and pressed a soft kiss to my clit and it felt like lightning struck my body. My hips jerked at the contact but his arm kept me in place and I felt him smirk against me.
Eyes now watery, I looked down at him and found him staring back at me. His eyes darkened once more as he watched me fall apart and simply muttered a few words in a language I now recognized as his mother tongue, his voice sending vibrations through my pussy. Instantly, warmth was blooming in my chest and I found myself whimpering behind my hand as an intense pleasure filled my body.
He knew how much I loved when he used his power to intensify my pleasure and helped me along quite often.
My orgasm hit me like a truck, steamrolling me as he lapped at my pussy. He kept his pace even as I began to writhe, his eyes glinting with mischief. A second orgasm approached and just as I was about to come undone, he pulled back. I let out a disapproving whine but didn’t argue further. Instead, I started to sit up.
“Can I-”
“Did I say you could get up?” Immediately I sank back down against the sheets. “Don’t move.” His eyes flashed. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, though the warmth spreading in my chest made any desire to disobey flee my body entirely. He’d pinned me to the bed with a simple glare and I watched helplessly as he undressed himself, my palms itching to help him.
My mouth watered when his cock sprung free from the confines of his shorts and he took a step toward me. “I’m gonna fuck this tight little pussy and you’re gonna fall apart on my cock, understood? I’m not stopping until I hear you begging for mercy.”
I clenched around nothing and nodded eagerly. I loved when he got like this. When he was so worked up that my reward turned into him simply ravaging me. I wanted him and he was damn sure going to give me what I wanted until I couldn’t take any more.
He lined up and urged my knees toward my chest, sheathing himself inside me in one fluid motion. The fullness I felt in that moment was one of my favorite things. He always fit so perfectly inside me, filling every inch of my pussy like it was made for him.
“Shit, baby…” His groan made me tense in anticipation. Every time he cursed like that, he gave it to me hard, just the way I liked it. He was careful with me, of course. I was his fragile little human. But he knew I preferred him fucking me furiously over taking me slowly and he gave it to me as a reward.
He also punished me that way but that was a story for another time.
“Mommy-” My breath hitched on the first thrust and my eyelids fluttered as his hand found my throat.
His pace was brutal, the sound of skin slapping filling the room in record time. He was precise with each thrust and my eyes rolled back when he gave my throat a gentle squeeze. Molten lava filled my veins as my vision swam.
He let up quickly, having long since learned my limits, and leaned down to crash his lips to mine. His taste mingled with my juices in the most intoxicating way and I let out another small whimper.
The coil in my belly was back and more intense than before as he reached a part of me that had stars dotting my vision. “Oh fuck- there!” I cried, the sound muffled by his lips. He drank up the sound with a low groan and slammed into me harder, determined to make me fall apart before he did.
It didn’t take him very long to accomplish that. Not even a minute after I had the thought that I wouldn’t last much longer, my orgasm washed over me. I swear the edges of my vision blurred with the force of it. A scream ripped from my throat as he continued to fuck me through my orgasm, showing no signs of letting up any time soon.
“That’s a good girl. Just like that.” He praised, pulling back just enough to watch me writhe beneath him. “You look so beautiful when you cum all over my cock, angel.”
Warmth flooded my chest again and I let out another cry as a third orgasm slammed into me, Seonghwa’s magic holding me captive as it settled deep in my belly. He was doing this on purpose of course. He wanted to make sure I was sated. He always did.
“Look at me.” He demanded. I did. I couldn’t look away. He was stunning like this. He looked powerful on top of me.
When I felt a fourth orgasm building, tears filled my eyes and I begged for mercy. “Mommy, please- too much-” The words came out as a broken sob of pleasure.
“You can take one last one for me, can’t you, my love?” I nodded frantically, knowing he’d give me a break after I’d cum a fourth time. “Good girl. That’s what I thought.” He grunted as sweat dripped from his chin and landed between my breasts. “Fuck, baby. You look so perfect right now. Just wanna fill you up with my cum and watch you try not to waste a single drop. Wanna breed that perfect pussy and give you a baby.”
“Please!” I sobbed, nodding furiously. I needed that. Needed him to fill me to the brim and make it so blindingly obvious who I belonged to.
“Yeah? You want that?” I nodded again as my orgasm barreled towards me. “Then cum for me, angel. One last time and I’ll give you every last drop.”
I let go, my back bowing off the bed as my whole body shuddered with delight. The sensation was so strong it made my toes curl and my watery eyes roll back as I let out one final cry. I bet I looked possessed with the way my body spasmed.
With a final curse, Seonghwa let go and spilled inside me, his thrusts becoming sloppy and losing rhythm as his high crashed over him. He only stopped when I let out a pathetic whimper, my body aching from all the pleasure he’d given me. Slowly, he pulled out and I whimpered when I felt his cum begin to leak out of me.
“You’re wasting it.” He teased as he laid down beside me, throwing a strong arm over my waist. “Are you okay, my love?”
“I couldn’t be better.” I smiled as I rolled over to face him, eyes already drooping. “I love you, Hwa.”
“I love you too. So fucking much.” He whispered. His words were the last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep in his protective embrace.
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May I request a yandere alphabet with Daemon Targaryen?
❝ 🐉 — lady l: It was my first time writing a yandere alphabet so I hope it's ok. Forgive me for any mistakes and I hope you like it! ❤️
❝tw: yandere themes, obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, mention of death, punishments and murder.
❝🐉pairing: yandere!daemon targaryen x gender neutral!reader.
Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
Daemon shows his love and affection for his darling through gifts and touches. He's not exactly romantic but he has his moments.
He likes to present you with everything that he finds interesting and that may be of interest to you. It's the most common way for him to show his love, besides touches like a hug, kiss on the forehead or holding your hand.
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
Very messy. Daemon has no scruples when it comes to his darling. He will make a huge mess, bodies lying on the street, blood staining everything. Daemon will kill, disembowel, and torture anyone for you.
All for you. He will not feel any kind of remorse.
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
Daemon won't exactly be cruel to you because he cares and loves you in his own way. If he gets to the point where he needs to kidnap you, he will try to be as patient as possible.
But patience is not his strong point, so there may be times when he will be cruel. Yelling at you, squeezing your neck and demanding you stop acting like a spoiled child. It's moments like these that he shows his monstrous side.
He may mock you by imitating your voice as a form of mockery, degrading you further.
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
Daemon would never force himself on his darling, he would never do something like that. He's a monster, he knows that, but not that kind of monster. He can force you to stay close to him, hugging you and even kissing you hard, but it will never go beyond that.
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
Daemon doesn't like being vulnerable and hates appearing weak, so he won't show his heart to his darling much.
There are times when he will be softer and a little vulnerable, but nothing that makes him too uncomfortable, except when he is drunk or needy. In these moments, Daemon will grab you and tell you how much he loves you and how much you mean to him.
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
He would find it amusing. Seeing you think you can against him is fun for Daemon. So sweet and so naive. As if you could win against a Targaryen.
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
Daemon considers it a game in which he knows he will win in the end. You are the prize he will win at any cost.
He will love watching you try to escape him. Seeing your efforts go in vain, the way you get frustrated when he takes you every time. Adorable.
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
The worst thing you could try to do is cheat on him. Daemon will not accept this at all and when he gets his hands on you, you will regret having crossed him.
He can and will physically hurt you. He won't go to the extreme of torturing you, but Daemon will leave marks on your body to remind you that you should never do something like that again. Dietary restrictions and even beatings are among the things he will do.
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
Daemon sees himself in a pleasant future with you. With him being King and you at his side, whether as his wife, lover or Hand. He can't see his future without you.
And if he can have children with you, he will.
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Daemon feels very jealous. And he's not subtle about it at all. His gaze is hard and anyone can sense the imminent danger that comes with that feeling.
He takes out his jealousy in the worst way: on you or on others. Depending on the situation, Daemon will leave you full of possessive marks or scattered corpses behind.
He has no problem killing anyone who made him jealous. Was that guard very nice to you? He will die. Was that prostitute giving you looks? Her body was found in poor condition.
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
Daemon likes to take you flying with him in Caraxes, going to bars and parties by his side. Always keeping a close eye on you when you are in public, of course.
He's not afraid or embarrassed to show how he feels about you in public and will deal with anyone who says anything about it afterwards.
Daemon tries to be the most compassionate towards you, he doesn't want you to hate him, so he tries to be kind and caring towards you.
Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
Daemon is definitely not subtle about his intentions with you. He will send gifts, touch you in public and stay by your side. He has no problem showing how he feels about you.
He may try a more subtle approach at first but it won't last. He will make his intentions very clear. Daemon doesn't have the patience to woo you properly.
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
No. Daemon has always been this way, reckless, violent and cruel and that has never changed. Everyone already knows the prince and Dameon has never tried to hide who he is.
Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
Daemon can be very cruel with his punishments. He can restrict you from certain needs, such as your food to more superficial things. He has no problem taking it from you, after all, he was the one who gave you such privileges.
In more extreme cases, Daemon can physically harm you, even leaving scars on your body. It all depends on how naughty you were.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
Daemon will not take away your rights unless he thinks you deserve it. If you are good and obedient, he won't need to do something like that.
But if you're not? Daemon will take everything he can from you. Your family, your friends, your basic rights, everything. Until the only thing you have left is him.
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
Daemon is not an example of patience but he tries for you. He tries his best to be patient with you because he knows it's necessary, that you're scared.
But Daemon can easily lose his temper if you do something he doesn't like or that bothers him. You will have to walk on eggshells around him.
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
If you died, Daemon would enter a deep state of grief and sadness. He will become more bitter and cruel than ever, anyone could become the target of the pain he feels for losing you. The countless deaths he caused were a result of losing you. He would never be able to get over your death.
If you escaped or left? No, no. Daemon would burn the world down behind you. He would do anything to find you and he would find you. He has a dragon and he knows his brother would support him in this. It's only a matter of time before he has you in his arms again.
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
No. Daemon wouldn't feel guilty about taking you because you're his and there's nothing wrong with taking what's rightfully yours. And he would never let you go, beg and cry all you want, you will never get rid of him.
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
Daemon isn't sure what brought out this side of him, maybe he was always like this. But what may have been what brought out his obsessive side was the affection, the love you gave him. You saw him and he loved it.
He found himself wanting more and more of this attention, this love, and he wasn't willing to share it with anyone else.
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
Daemon feels bad seeing you cry because he hates seeing your beautiful face stained by tears, especially if he was the one who caused them. But he won't actually do anything to fix it. But he will comfort you, pull you into a hug and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.
He hates it when you yell and if you yell at him, Daemon will put an end to it quickly. Pushing you against a wall and squeezing your throat usually does the trick.
If you try to isolate yourself, he won't let you. You won't stay away from him under any circumstances. You'll have to get used to his presence or things won't end so well for you.
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
Burn alive your enemies and/or people who have harmed you in some way as a form of retaliation. And feed them to his dragon.
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
Daemon has no apparent weaknesses and he won't even leave them exposed for you to use against him, he's not stupid. But if he trusts you enough, you can use that against him.
Once trust is established, Daemon will be more tolerant of you going out alone, or at the very least with just one guard and not an entire armada, and perhaps letting you wander around his house alone.
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
Yes. Daemon doesn't want to hurt you physically, but he will if he sees fit. He will have no problem inflicting pain on you, but don't worry, he will take care of you later.
Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
Daemon would rather be adored than worship but he adores you in his own way. He worships your body, your mind and how sharp you are. These are qualities that he adores in you.
But you will be put on a pedestal once you accept your role in his life.
Oh, he would go to any lengths to win you. He would compete for your attention in jousts, battles, and any other way to get your attention without having to resort to kidnapping. Something he will do if he sees no other alternative.
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
It doesn't take long for him to snap.
Daemon is not patient and he wants you, so he will have you. He may try to win you the traditional way but since that doesn't give the results he wants, Daemon will bring you to him. He will take you.
Maybe a few weeks at most.
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
Yes, but not intentionally.
Daemon doesn't want you to be a puppet, a marionette that he will control. He wants to see a fire in your eyes, he likes it when you fight him and if he breaks you he won't have that anymore.
But he can do it accidentally. And Daemon will try everything to bring you back.
He doesn't like it when you're broken, it's not fun for him.
#yandere hotd#hotd#yandere house of the dragon#asoiaf#house of the dragon#a song of ice and fire#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere daemon targaryen x reader#yandere alphabet#x reader#daemon targaryen x reader
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not even going anon for this. horny on main always pls. offering a lil Rolan headcanon I've been stewing on recently. I plan to make something of it eventually, but perhaps you can drabble from it now to sate me :)
Rolan is usually one to prefer softer sex - unending eye contact, kisses, more "romantic" positions.
Tav finally convinces him to take her from behind, and he's hesitant at first - until the sight of him unleashes something filthy and primal within him. It's as if he snaps, quickly shifting from slow, hesitant movements to desperate thrusts filled with raw desire. Soft kisses along her neck turn into love nips and then full on mating bites as her hips arch back into his - yeah. Just full on, animalistic urges, breathy grunts in her ear, Rolan 🥲🥵
AHHHHH making a usually soft man absolutely feral? Yes please 🥵
From Behind
It wasn’t that Tav was disappointed in her and Rolan's sex life. No it was quite the opposite actually. Rolan was a more than attentive lover, always taking into consideration Tav’s pleasure over his own. Always making sure that she reached her peak at least once before he even considered climbing towards his own.
Whilst in town one evening, shopping for a particular book, Tav had overheard a rather, intimate natured conversation that two women were whispering and giggling over.
“-from behind? And does it feel any different?”
“Oh quite! Much better if you ask me. Hits that spot almost every time.” The woman murmured to her friend whose face held utter astonishment.
“I’ll have to see if Maldor would be willing to try.”
Tav’s face blushed a deep color at the realization of just what the the two women had been chatting about. She quickly grabs what she was looking for, pays and leaves, face never changing shade from the deep flush from earlier.
Later that night, as Tav tucks into bed beside Rolan, and settles in to sleep, the wizard rolls over to pull her back against his chest like usual. Tav's breath hitches when his hips settle against her ass, her mind immediately shifting to what she had overheard at the shops.
"Are you alright?" Rolan leans up on his elbow, eyes looking over her to check for discomfort.
Tav startles at the sound of his almost gruff voice, "Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm alright."
"You're quite skittish, dear, did I do something to upset you?" the wizard gently pushes on her shoulder, getting her to roll over onto her back so he can get a good look at her face.
Her face which is flushed all over again, with eyes that are pointedly trying not to meet Rolan's.
Rolan moves his hand away from her shoulder, not wanting to cross any boundaries, even if he's unaware of any. Tav worries her bottom lip with her teeth, before meeting his concerned gaze.
"No, no you didn't do anything, my love. Just a long day is all." the lie leaves her mouth suspiciously quick, and Rolan notices the way she nervously swallows after speaking it.
"Tav, if you need your space, I am more than happy to give it to yo-"
"It's not that!" she cuts him off, "I just thought of something... specific, when you, well, you pressed against my ass."
The tiefling raises a brow at her, "What- Tav what are you talking about?" He's utterly confused at the way she's stumbling over her words over something so simple.
Tav sighs in defeat and avoids Rolan's gaze while speaking her next words, "While at the shop this evening, I overheard two women talking about their, well... intimate lives. And well, one of them mentioned how good it feels to be- well, to be taken from behind." She finishes and takes a breath before meeting his eyes once again.
"Is that something you'd like to try?" he asks so casually that it throws Tav off for a moment. Rolan was one who preferred more intimate positions, usually favoring missionary. He liked being able to watch Tav's features as they contorted with pleasure and reacted to his ministrations, liked being able to lock eyes with her as she came apart around him.
"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to it, I suppose. Only if you would be okay with it of cour-mmph." Rolan's lips meet Tav's in an abrupt kiss, affectively cutting off her anxious rambling.
"I am more than willing to try this with you, dear." he mumbles between kisses, his hand beginning to roam down her side to rest on her hip.
Tav deepens the kiss, tongue darting out to meet his, her hands coming up to rest on the ridged planes of his chest. Her fingers trace over the infernal ridges, before coming up to rest on his broad shoulders. She gasps into Rolan's mouth when she feels his fingers trail down her belly, toying at the edge of her panties, before dipping inside and gathering her wetness on his middle finger.
"So wet already. Just from the thought of me fucking you." he murmurs against her jaw, kissing along the bone.
"Please-" Tav begs. For what? She's not entirely sure.
"So needy." Rolan teases as he swipes his finger in little circles around her throbbing clit. His rhythm steady, his touch light. Tav's thighs tense, then instinctively fall open a bit more, the sensation almost too much.
"Want you to come for me before I fuck you from behind, can you do that for me?" he whispers against her lips, finger dipping to her fluttering hole, wetting itself to continue circling her.
"Mmhm." Tav whines desperately, her own fingers clasping around his forearm, already climbing to her peak. It's not long before her thighs begin to shake, her core clenching as she tumbles over the ledge. She throws her head back as Rolan finally dips two of his fingers into her spasming cunt. He fucks her through her orgasm, lips pressing wet kisses to her exposed throat, whispering praises against the taut skin.
"Always so good for me. Now I want you on your knees sweetheart." He holds a hand out for her to take as she lifts to her wobbly knees. As she kneels before him, he gets into position behind her.
One clawed hand traces up Tav's spine, making it's way up to the back of her neck to grip and push her down into place. Her elbows meet the mattress. A shocked sound huffs past Tav's lips, and Rolan's hands caress over her hips, kneading the plush flesh lovingly.
He reaches down, taking his length in hand, he drags the tip through her wet folds.
"Are you ready to take me, dear?" he asks lovingly, notching his head in her entrance. Tav nods, looking back over her shoulder to meet his amber gaze.
When he pushes into her, she gasps. The head of him instantly brushing against that sweet spot nestled deep inside her. Rolan bends forward, an arm scooping around Tav's middle to pull her up against his chest. His thrusts pick up speed, his hips rutting into her frantically.
"Is this what you wanted? To be fucked like this?" he almost hisses the words. The hand wrapped around Tav, gropes at her breasts, squeezing the flesh and teasing at her peaked nipples.
"Yes yes yes." Tav chants breathily as he relentlessly pounds into her g-spot. She can feel her second orgasm building in the pit of her stomach.
"Gonna fill you up like this. Gonna fill you with my cum." Rolan groans into her neck, his free hand coming up to rest on her belly. "I'm so close."
"Come in me. Please, I wanna feel you fill me." Tav whimpers, holding onto his forearms.
With a guttural moan, Rolan releases into Tav, his seed flooding her walls being the thing that triggers her own orgasm.
Rolan thrusts a couple of more times, riding out their highs, before gently pulling out of her. He takes her into his arms, carefully laying her down to rest. Tav lays her head on his chest, making attempts to catch her breath.
"So, was it what you hoped it would be?" Rolan laughs as he tries to catch his own.
"Everything and more." Tav dopily smiles.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#rolan x tav#holy rolan empire#bg3 rolan#rolan#rolan x reader#Rolan x tav smut#Rolan x reader smut#Rolan x tav angst#Rolan x tav fluff#baldurs gate#baldurs gate 3#bg3 oc#baldurs gate tav#rolan fanart#rolan nation#tiefling
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< about time >
pairing:: bang chan x older male reader
genre:: smut // fluff - - minors dni!!
word count:: 2.9k
summary:: you’re an overworked college student and your best friend, bang chan, is a famous kpop idol. he’s constantly busy and you haven’t seen him in months. he surprises you with a visit late one night, and scenes in the movie you watch sparks a flame you didn’t know existed between you two.
warnings:: smut !!! unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), slight d / s dynamic, dirty talk, praise, slight pet play if you squint, swearing, petnames, age dynamic & honorifics, crying
notes:: my first work on here :fingers-crossed: not entirely proofread either srry ;; i’ve actually never seen ‘about time,’ but i know vaguely what happens in it- bare with me if i get anything wrong ,,</3 i don’t know how to end stories i’m so sorry
it’s been a long day. you’ve been working on your homework all day- reading textbooks and taking notes, replying to insufferable classmates on discussion posts, studying for an upcoming test. all you want is someone to hold you, and nobody comes to mind.
that is, except for your best friend, chan.
he’s always there when you need him, but he's beyond busy. he’ll pick up every call within a ring or two, but never has time to talk more than five minutes. but he never forgets to text you good night, sleep well, to dream happy thoughts.
you groan, leaning back in your chair. would he come over if you asked? does he even have the time? is he even still in korea? you spiral and spiral until you eventually pick up your phone, deciding to find out for yourself.
he picks up before the first ring, a coarse voice filling your ear. “y/n? you okay? it’s 2am, sweetheart.” your heart aches at the petname.
“i- sorry. i’ve been up working on homework, i didn't mean to wake you up.” you whisper into the phone. chan laughs gently.
“i’ve been up. don't worry about me, it's just good to hear your voice.” a silence falls over you, registering his compliment. “you there?”
“yeah- yeah, sorry. just…” you bite your tongue. “i miss you, chan.” he sighs on the other end of the phone.
“i miss you too. look, how about… i wrap things up here, and come over?” your eyes widen.
“wait, really? can you even do that?” chan laughs again.
“of course i can, y/n. i don't have a schedule tomorrow, so i can do whatever i want tonight. would you like that?” chan teases.
“yes, please. i need you.” you bite your lip at your neediness. chan chuckles, and you hear a rustling on his end of the phone.
“you need me, baby boy? did i hear that right?” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.
“that’s hyung to you, sir.” you correct.
“you're barely older than me! don't make me call you that.” chan whines.
“yeah, yeah. hurry up over there and come over, okay?” chan huffs playfully.
“okay. give me like thirty minutes, i'll head out right as i finish.” you smile, pursing your lips together at the thought of seeing him again.
“see you soon, channie.”
“see you soon, y/n-ie.”
---
it's almost exactly thirty minutes before you hear a knock at your door. you jump up, running to unlock it, greeted with your best friend dressed in all black.
“hi, channie.” you say softly, playing with the hem of your shirt. chan smiles, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist.
“hi, hyung. i missed you.” chan whispers as you sigh, wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. chan chuckles, squeezing you tighter. “you okay?” you shake your head.
“just… long day. needed to be around someone.” chan nods, caressing your back, holding you tight.
“i know, sweetheart. i’m here now, okay?” you bury your face deeper into his neck.
“okay.”
it feels like eternity, standing there in the atrium, hugging chan. but you wouldn't have it any other way. chan breaks the silence, clearing his throat.
“hyung, let's go to your room. you need to get some rest.” you groan, holding chan tighter.
“i'm not tired. i still have work i need to do, i’m so behind and-”
“hey, hey.” chan pulls away, holding your shoulders at an arm’s distance. “don't worry about all that. just get some rest, with me, yeah?” chan cups your face in his hand, caressing your cheek. you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut.
“okay.. fine.” you give up, melting into chan’s touch. chan giggles, moving a hand from your shoulder down to your hand.
“that’s my hyungie.” chan praises, leading you up to your bedroom.
once you get there, you sit against the headboard of the bed, pulling a blanket over your lower half. “let me help you.” chan offers, sitting beside you and gently pulling the blanket over both of you. “we can watch a movie or something if you want?” chan suggests, snuggling closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder.
“we can watch something, i'm okay with that.” you lay your head against chan's head, closing your eyes and sighing softly. chan moves a hand to your thigh, caressing it softly.
“alright, anything in particular you want to watch?” chan asks, rubbing small circles on your thigh, feeling your breathing slow down. “or should we pick something together?” chan hums, enjoying the warmth of your body against his.
“what was that movie you watched with stay the other day?” you ask. “i was busy when you watched it, so i never got to see it.”
“oh- about time?” chan blushes. “that’s like my favorite movie. i’d so be okay with watching that again.” you smile, reaching for the remote and turning on the tv. you pull up the movie and press play, chan’s thigh against yours, his hand caressing your skin.
the two of you enjoy the movie, cuddling and leaning against each other. about halfway through, a sex scene pops up on the screen, shocking you. you purse your lips, trying to focus on the screen, instead of the hand on your bare thigh. chan continues caressing your skin, seemingly unbothered by the scene on the tv.
“hyung.” chan whispers, moving his hand closer to your inner thigh. “i’ll stop if you tell me to.” you shake your head, eyes falling down to the blankets, covering chan’s hand.
“it’s.. it’s okay.” chan hums, continuing to stroke your thigh, matching the rhythm of the movie's steamy scene. he keeps his gaze on the screen, as you bite your lip and refuse to look up. chan slowly snakes his hand up your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. chan nuzzles his face against your shoulder, as you bite back a whimper.
“hyung...” chan murmurs, turning to you, stopping his hand right above your growing bulge. “do you want me to stop?” his voice trembles, his breath warm against your neck.
you shake your head. “no, i… please keep going.” the movie forgotten, you purse your lips together, turning away from chan from embarrassment.
“good boy.” chan praises, his heart pounding out of his chest. he slides his hand up to your clothed erection, palming it gently through your shorts. chan presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, slipping a hand under your shorts and cupping your length over your underwear. you whimper, squeezing your eyes closed.
“channie…”
“shh, it’s okay, hyung. i’ve got you.” chan reassures, stroking your erection through your underwear. he presses soft kisses down your neck, nibbling gentle marks into your skin. “so fucking hot for me, yeah?” chan teases, increasing the pressure slightly.
“shit…” you bite back a moan, looking down at where chan is touching you.
“i know, baby.” chan coos, feeling you twitch beneath his touch. “i want to make you feel good, okay?” chan whispers, sliding his hand inside your underwear and gripping you gently. “is this okay?” he asks, his own erection straining against his pants.
“yes, yes, please, channie.” you beg, your dick twitching in chan’s hold. you shift the blanket, moving it off your crotch so you can watch him touch you. the cold air is a welcome feeling, as chan’s hand is so warm against you.
“fuck, hyung.” chan gasps, his eyes widening at the sight of your hardened length. he takes a deep breath, leaning down and taking you into his mouth.
“chris! oh, fuck.” you buck up into his mouth at the sudden feeling, his mouth warm and tight around your cock. chan chuckles around you at the use of his real name, as he moves a hand down to play with your balls gently.
chan hums around you, sucking harder, his tongue dancing along your shaft. chan caresses your balls gently, eliciting another whimper from you. “you taste so good.” he lifts off your cock to breathe, then dives back in, swallowing your length fully and bobbing his head rhythmically.
“channie, oh my god.” you bury a hand in his hair, just petting it, not trying to force him to stay down on your cock. you throw your head back, whimpering as chan swallows around you.
“i’m not stopping, hyung.” chan promises, leaning back down, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks you deep. chan releases your balls, gripping your thighs tightly, hard enough to leave marks. “cum in my mouth, hyung.” he begs. chan increases his pace, sucking harder and bobbing quicker, his saliva dripping down your shaft. he takes you fully in his mouth, his nose brushing against your pubic bone. you hold back a loud moan and bite your bottom lip.
“close, channie. so close.” chan nods, swallowing around you, humming gently. a hot flash runs through your body, your hips bucking involuntarily into chan’s mouth. you come with a loud groan, filling chan’s mouth with your warm seed. you shake through your orgasm, your body going weak and your head falling back against the headboard. you pant, petting chan’s hair as he gently sucks you clean.
“there you go, baby.” chan praises, swallowing your cum and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. he presses a kiss to the side of your cock, humming happily. “are you alright?” chan asks, looking up, concern in his voice. you nod, visibly exhausted, opening your eyes slowly to see a red-faced chan with a crooked smile, his mouth slightly open.
“i- thank you, chan. that was…” chan giggles, leaning in to kiss your cheek.
“anytime, hyungie.” chan smiles, his heart racing. he sits closer to you, pulling you into a hug. “how do you feel?” he asks, his erection hard against your hip. you blush, leaning into his hug, shifting so your hip brushes against his bulge. chan whimpers, burying his face into your neck.
“i’m okay… what about you, channie? can i help you?” you whisper, caressing his inner thigh. chan whines, breathing heavily against your neck.
“hyung...” chan stammers, his erection pulsating against your hip. “i want to fuck you.” he confesses, his voice barely audible. “but only if you're okay with that.” he adds, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
“oh, god.” you throw your head back in shock. “i want nothing more than that. please?” you plead and chan lets go of you, throwing the blankets off you both, sitting in front of you. he carefully guides you to lay on your back, your head against the pillow. chan giggles, slipping your shorts and underwear off your legs, leaving you alone in your shirt. chan slips off his shirt, revealing his perfectly toned body. you purse your lips together, admiring his body. “you’re so beautiful, chris.” chan blushes, looking away, covering his face with his hands.
“stoppp… i’m not.. i’m not beautiful.” you pull chan down, his legs kneeling on either side of your torso. you cup chan’s face with one of your hands, the other placed on his chest.
“you’re perfect, in every way. you’re so, so, pretty, christopher.” chan whines, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his face flushed red. “i mean it, baby. you’re so beautiful.” chan groans, pulling himself up.
“okay, okay, i get it, you’re in love with me.” chan teases, kneeling on his shins, slipping out of his shorts and underwear. you tilt your head to the side, admiring chan’s body.
“you’re not wrong. i’ve kinda always been in love with you, chris.” chan stops in his tracks, making eye contact with you.
“i… i love you too, hyung.” chan mumbles, his heart overflowing with emotion. he looks down, pumping his cock twice, his tip wet with precum.
you melt, reaching your hand out to hold chan’s. “so pretty, channie.” chan shakes his head, shy, taking your hand into his.
“hyung…” chan whimpers, his eyes locked on yours. he positions himself between your legs, his tip pressing against your entrance. “are you sure?” he asks, his voice shaking. you nod.
“i’m sure, channie. i’m good, go ahead.” you squeeze chan’s hand. chan takes a deep breath, pushing in slowly, hissing as he feels the tightness of your entrance. he stops, waiting for you to adjust.
“you okay?” he asks, his face flushed. you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping chan’s hand tightly.
“so- so big, channie.”
“sorry, hyungie.” chan apologizes, pulling out slightly and slowly pushes in again, a little further this time. “i’ll be gentle, i promise.” he whispers, his eyes locked on your face. you purse your lips together, gripping chan’s hand as tight as you can.
“it’s okay- ah,” you whimper. “you can go deeper. i can take it.” chan nods, thrusting slightly deeper, eyes blown wide at the sensation.
“fuck, you’re so tight, hyung.” he groans, starting a gentle pace, rocking back and forth out of you. you throw your head back at the burn, squeezing chan’s hand at every thrust. he squeezes back gently.
“puppy, feels so good.”
you can feel chan twitch inside of you, and he collapses onto your chest. he breathes heavily, holding your hand tight, stalling the movement of his hips.
“call me that again.” you chuckle, slipping your free hand into his hair.
“what..? puppy?” chan whines, burying his face into your shirt. he ruts up into you involuntarily, groaning as he pushes deeper into you.
“you’re driving me crazy, hyung.” his thrusts pick up again, going deeper every time. you softly pull his hair, groaning at the wonderful mix of pleasure and pain.
“just like that, puppy, you’re doing so well.” chan gasps into your shirt, his pace growing frantic. he fucks you harder, his free hand gripping your hip tightly. you moan loudly, eyes blown wide, watching chan fall apart on top of you.
“i’m- fuck, i’ll cum if you keep calling me that.” he bites the fabric of your shirt, his dick twitching inside of you as he ruts deeper into you. you squeeze his hand, pulling his hair so he lifts his head. chan looks up at you with teary eyes, a pout on his lips. you pull him closer, kissing him gently, your tongue running over his bottom lip. chan whimpers into the kiss, his dick throbbing inside of you. he slips his tongue inside your mouth, matching the frantic movement of his hips. he bites gently at your bottom lip, licking into you hungrily.
“good boy,” you whisper between kisses. “just like that, puppy.” you suck on chan’s tongue, squeezing his hand. chan moans into your mouth, his thrusts becoming sloppy. he fucks you harder, feeling his orgasm building up.
“hyung!” chan cries out, holding your waist tightly. he gasps between kisses.
“come on, puppy, you’ve got it.” you praise, kissing his nose. “come for me, pretty boy.”
chan chokes out a sob, arching his back, releasing into you. he kisses you hungrily, riding out his high. “i love you, hyung.” he whimpers, spilling his seed into you, pumping it deeper. you pet his hair gently, letting go of his hand. you cup his face, caressing his cheek, wiping a stray tear off his face.
“you did so well for me, puppy. i love you so much.” chan nuzzles his face into your hand, quietly letting the tears fall. “hey, hey, are you okay..?” you panic, frantically wiping his tears with both hands. chan nods in your hands, taking a deep breath.
“yeah, i’m sorry, just…” chan wipes his own tears away, embarrassed. he buries his face into your chest, murmuring. “just overwhelmed.” his voice cracks. your heart aches.
“i know, baby. i’ve got you.” you hold him closer, petting his hair and kissing his scalp. chan whimpers, holding onto you tightly. he lays on top of you, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath.
“you made me feel so good, hyung. thank you.” he mumbles into your shirt. you chuckle, tilting his head up by his chin to meet your eyes.
“anytime, channie. that was perfect.” you kiss chan’s nose. he giggles, kissing your lips tenderly. he smiles into the kiss, burying his face into your neck.
“thank you, hyung.” he whispers, nuzzling his face against your skin. you squeeze chan in your arms, sighing contentedly.
“i’ll hold you as long as you need, but we need to clean up soon, baby.” you caress his back, skating your fingertips along his muscles. chan shivers, snuggling into your embrace. he nods slightly, then slowly sits up, slipping out of you with a groan.
“we- we should clean up now, i think.” you nod, sitting up, wincing as globs of chan’s cum spill out of you onto the bedsheets. you chuckle, looking down at the blankets.
“we’re gonna have to do laundry, too.” chan giggles, helping you up to your feet, kissing your shoulder.
“let’s do that tomorrow, yeah? for now…” chan pulls you in for a passionate kiss. “let’s take a shower, okay?” he whispers against your lips. you nod, rubbing your nose against his.
“good idea, pup.” chan blushes, covering his face with his hand.
“stoppp it, hyung.” he whines, turning away and heading towards the bathroom as you follow closely behind, knowing that tonight is nowhere near over.
#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan x male reader#bangchan smut#bangchan x reader#bang chan x you#bangchan x you#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz x you#m!reader
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𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞
A chance meeting with a stranger leads down the road of an inevitable devotion. Breeding a childish love into an obsessive attachment. The devil's temptation is all-consuming, only producing pain disguised as pleasure.
wc: 2906
The grace of his footsteps, despite his enormous figure, had seemed to incite an absurd curiosity within me. His attitude ranged from a spectrum even vaster than that of light, as he got along with almost everyone he met, yet peculiarly, seemed to never lose his morals or beliefs in the face of so many opinions and conversations.
I had paid no mind to him when he first marched through the halls of Gotham high, the whole school was abuzz with chatter, gossiping about this bizarre new character. He never dressed the part of being Bruce Wayne’s ward, often rocking hoodies large enough to drown in, colored a deep blood red that seemed to fuel the fury of the teachers. He was a delinquent in every right, yet he was also as intelligent in the same capacity.
Paid for by the one-percenters of Gotham, the library the size of a Manhattan penthouse was often eerily empty, met occasionally with the presence of a student trying to pay another for answers to an assignment. I was an exception in all such aspects, for neither was I rich nor conceited enough to believe in the fantasy that I would be handed everything in life. I would relish the silence of the library, a place I had made a home of by the second week of high school. Gotham was not a city for me, and the cheap apartment that I called ‘home’ was anything but its namesake, lacking everything that the library could provide.
I had heard the whispers of others, of how the girls were intrigued by the new kid to instantly desire him, and of how the boys spoke nonsense, fueled by a jealous rage. Though these polarized opinions had left me curious, I never thought it my place to ever participate in such an activity of imagining. That was a right reserved for the rich, for those who had time enough to do as they pleased.
Jason Todd sat in front of me, one fine day, in the library, so enamored in The Great Gatsby that he ignored my existence. Although caught off guard, I enjoyed the silent company, feeling as though I was not alone in my fated destiny toward deterioration as I spent more and more time in the library each passing day. Life had only begun to worsen with time, yet his presence had seemed to soothe me with silent comfort.
At first, I brushed him off just as I thought he had done of me, yet the more I saw him, I began to imagine as well. He had made me a rich woman, not materialistically, but rather metaphysically. My mind spent hours trying to reason why he stayed. Was the library his abode as well? Was he trying to read every book he’d laid eyes on in there? Why? Questions only left a hole, a desire to fulfill my curiosity.
“Hey.” Jason's soft voice, like the serpent tempting Eve, left me craving conversation. It was the third month of our silent routine when he finally spoke, soothing months of contemplation with a single word. Oh, how desperate I had been.
The days that followed after that interaction were like a daydream. Unbeknownst to most, Jason had a poetic soul paired with the heart of a hopeless romantic. He would bring my favorite coffee with a pastry to the library and set it beside me inconspicuously. He’d brush off every thank you, pleased by the apparent delight in my expression when I would realize what he had brought. These little gestures enabled us to evolve beyond the library setting, meeting instead at coffee shops near the school simply to study as we normally had done.
Our interactions were intimate, yet physical exchange was always kept to a minimum, with either party fearful of crossing the line and losing the other. But observing the way his massive body could maneuver through the crowds of people on the street, watching him eat with a linger of an animalistic instinct through his gentle facade, and catching his radiant smile whenever he laid eyes on me was fulfilling enough. Until it left me longing for more.
It had taken me a while to muster the courage to make a move to him. I had developed feelings for him that grew deeper with each passing day, and I couldn’t hold in my desire any longer. So, on a sweltering summer day, as me and Jason sat at the coffee shop we would always hang out at, I decided that I would do something. Jason, in his tank top and jeans, sweat shining in the glare of the sunlight, had left me a blushing mess, too embarrassed to think through what I should do to further our relationship. In my state, I had barely recognized how he seemed timider than usual, keeping to himself.
After an awkward afternoon in the quaint shop, I decided my endeavor was a lost cause. I got out of my seat, and walked to the entrance, motioning to Jason that I was about to leave. Together we walked out through the door, yet before we could part ways, he grabbed my wrist with a gentle grip. The sudden action caused me to swing around, crashing into his chest as I did. Before I could apologize, he used his free hand to take hold of my chin and tilt my face upward just enough to meet his lips.
The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us suspended in time. It was a moment of pure magic. In that fleeting instant, I knew with certainty that Jason was the perfect man for me, the one I had been searching for without even knowing it. As we pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, I felt a sense of clarity wash over me like a cleansing tide. In Jason's arms, I had found my sanctuary, my safe haven in a world full of chaos.
And to tie the not on such a precious moment, he had whispered, “Will you be my girlfriend.”
Since that day, Jason established a routine. He’d keep his distance until the night, when he’d knock on my door, littered with bruises, crying for help. The late nights were reserved for peeling away every layer of Jason’s being his traumatizing past and his blissful present. Then, there came days that I wouldn’t hear from him for days, never seeing him at school or at the cafe. He was like a ghost disappearing and reappearing as he wished, toying with my heart every time. Yet, he always managed to make up for his absence, knowing just the right things to reel me back in when I started to slip away. But despite the distance, despite the pain, I stayed because I loved him. I had fallen in love with his fucked up ways, his twisted dreams, a secret life he kept from me.
He wasn’t a bad lover, just an absent one. His appearance had become the highlight of my days, the way he’d caress me when we hugged, the way he’d hold me in his arms while we rested in my bed. Everything he did was able to erect a lustful emotion I never knew I had. He was by all means, perfectly imperfect. Human in all rights.
After we graduated, he became more and more distant. He’d never told me what he was up to, convinced that I would stay by his side no matter what. I felt as though I was more of a token anchor than a person to him. Existing just for him, as if I did not have passions and ambitions of my own. But he was right. His love was intoxicating, leaving me an obedient puppet who’d always wait for him. Yet the summer after graduation, when he left me for months, I finally began to become skeptical of our situation.
It was bittersweet to know that this time, he hadn’t stood me up due to his own volition. Fate was a heartbreaker, leaving love a longed-for feeling buried six feet in a grave that I could never see, even if I wanted to. Jason had a simple ceremony, with his blue roses placed upon the coffin as he was buried. A speech was given, tears were shed, and people departed more disturbed than they arrived. Or at least that was what I was told in a letter. The sender was one who shared the same address, the same life, the same ambitions as Jason, yet hadn’t the heart to allow his girlfriend the privilege of knowing about the late son’s departure from this world.
Bruce Wayne had known loss to a degree incomprehensible to the common man, and no amount of money would ever fix the wounds that bled him dry. Yet, this experience should have encouraged communication. If he was as heartful as the news portrayed him to be, sympathizing with those less fortunate enough to form a family full of grieving children, then how had he glanced over me? The same pain had haunted me, from the moment I felt Jason slipping from my grasp, becoming more and more distant until he left me forever. Bruce Wayne, through Jason, was depicted as a madman driven by an insane drive as persistent as the Joker’s scheming. Jason worshipped the man more than god himself, and yet he often came to me with pained sobs, unfulfilled dreams, and an unbridled rage that his ‘father’ failed to provide for.
Having never met the man before, I had formed a loose persona in my mind that I had assumed the billionaire was. Yet, my assumptions were solidified after receiving the curt letter, rather, note, written with such passive care that anyone would have thought it was merely as insignificant as a to-do list.
To whom it may concern:
We gathered to remember Jason at Wayne Manor. It's regrettable you couldn't join us. The Wayne family extends their condolences and offers assistance during this difficult time.
Pretentious, arrogant liars. Gotham’s elite were all the same. I sat in the restaurant for two hours, danced in the street on my way home imagining what I would do for Jason's birthday, and attempted to reason another one of his absences from the date before knowing. The sealed envelope sat on the doorstep, accompanied by nothing but a red seal that indicated its correspondent. It was a strange item to receive out of the blue.
With no notice, no knowledge of the life that Jason led among the elite, I was baffled by the harshness of facing a sudden reality. It felt surreal to imagine Jason of people dead. He was a killer, with killer looks, a killer smile, and a killer attitude. A body built to fight, and an aura as dangerous as a drug. He couldn’t have died, not my Jason.
I couldn’t comprehend losing Jason, enough that in such denial I had ventured to Wayne Manor, forcing my way through the ebony gates onto the gothic grounds of the mansion. At the front door, after incessantly pounding on the grandiose doors, I was finally met with the face of the butler, Alfred. Before speaking I stared at him for a few moments as I cleared my blurry vision from the uncontrollable tears that rolled down my cheeks. He seemed to recognize me, as he let me inside, placing a hand on my back for support as he looked toward me with an empathetic expression.
“Jason can’t be dead. I never saw a body, never heard a lick of what happened to him. You’re liars.” The words left like venom, hurting the old man enough to display his aching heart in his eyes.
“We all have lost someone very special, but we must accept it.” He spoke, attempting to keep a calm demeanor.
“Accept it? What the hell are you on about? A funeral I was never invited to and a body I have yet to see. How am I supposed to accept something that seems too imaginative?” I retorted, my anger laced with sorrow.
Silence hung heavy between us, but I pressed on, seeking the truth I feared. “He didn’t care, did he? He loved something more than he loved me, right?”
Alfred nodded, giving into his grief as his eyebrows softened, and his gaze moved to the floor, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes.
“Can you tell me what it was that he adored enough to give his life for?”
“Justice.”
I laughed. Of course, he chased independence from his family, yet revered the so-called philanthropist guardian he had. Though he might have begun with the pursuit of true moral justice, Bruce skewed into a dangerous endeavor.
Bruce Wayne was a killer, not Jason, no he had a handsome impression, a soft smile, and a hopeful attitude. It wasn’t justice that Jason pursued, it was Bruce’s image of it. He was an imperfect man, his only weakness was the longing for a familial love he was denied by his own parents. One that I could never compensate for. He wasn’t my Jason, never had he been. I didn’t know Jason at all, I was the puppet, toyed with by the father and the son.
After six months of sleepless nights and living nightmares, I finally found a haphazard peace to settle in. I watched the sky every night, wishing that the hope that blessed Metropolis would make its way into Gotham and give me the will to move on with my life. But, as the general populace is fated to remain in the same cycle, trapped in the chains of modern capitalism, all I was able to do was make do with my shitty job, in my shitty apartment, living a lonely life, as devoid of color as the Gotham sky was of the sun. My visit to Wayne Manor had not changed anything, for I was still left in the dark regarding every manner in which Jason’s name was exploited, whether it be a fundraiser in his honor or a gala, I was always the last to know.
But without hearing his name, seeing his face, or feeling his touch for so long, I had begun to forget him. Out of sight, out of mind as the saying goes, and though I had forgotten everything, his soft voice still haunted me whenever I slept. I had fallen into insanity fueled by my imagination, one that left me feeling rich in broken pieces of a heart.
Tonight I sat at the edge of my windowsill, one leg resting on a loose brick outside the apartment, while the other remained crossed beneath me. With my head leaned back against the metal of the frame, I watched the stars twinkle in the night sky, like diamonds. It was a rare night, to hear the sirens go off occasionally. There were no screams, no gunshots no cries for help, only the ambience of the city. I took it as a sign, that change had arrived, that peace was mine to finally be in.
Closing my eyes, I decided that tonight was safe enough to let my guard down. To enjoy Gotham’s raw essence as a mother to the unfortunate. Her touch let my hair dance in the breeze, cooling my body from the heat of the day. Her sounds were a harmonic symphony lulling me into a deep sleep. But her motherly affection was short-lived, as the sound of boots hitting the fire escape had woken me from my lucid state.
The footsteps felt heavy yet sounded as soft as the movements of a ballerina. There was a familiar feeling about the situation, but I couldn’t quite place it, not until his breath hit the back of my neck. Even with the faint light from the neon sign, the man remained a silhouette in the darkness, bigger than what the steps had led me to believe. I didn’t move, waiting for the man to make the first move.
“Hey.” In the same husky voice in which he introduced himself to me all those years ago, Jason had come back, yet again tempting me to be consumed by him. At first, I thought I had finally broken, gone insane from the grief. I was done fighting my end when the weight of Jason's touch settled upon me. It was as though a dark cloud descended, shrouding me in a familiar embrace that I couldn't resist. His fingers traced the contours of my hand, each touch sending shivers down my spine, igniting a flame that I thought had long been extinguished.
I felt the pull of his presence, magnetic and intoxicating, drawing me closer with each passing moment. His breath, hot against my neck, tempted me to abandon reason and lose myself in his embrace. Despite the past, despite the pain, despite everything urging me to resist, I found myself unable to pull away. His hold tightened and his lips brushed against my ear, I knew that I had crossed a line from which there was no return. Swallowed by the shadows of Gotham's embrace, I had sealed my fate the moment I met him. I was fated to die a poor woman, yet the devil enticed me with a taste, and I will die a rich woman consumed by the unending pain of unreal love.
#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd#red hood#red hood x reader#under the red hood#arkhamverse#arkham knight#bruce wayne#alfred pennyworth#angst#manipulation#toxic love
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In Any Form You Take - dukeceit
Scar positivity, mostly made for the purpose of comforting myself, but I wanted to share it as well. I hardly see media involving people with scars as gnarly as mine, so hopefully this can bring others comfort as well. The title is a reference to this song.
Read on Ao3 here
[Content warning for implied past self harm and current body image issues.]
Remus sits splayed out on its bed, trying to act like it isn't waiting for something. Janus has, for the first time in the months they've been dating, agreed to stay the night in its room. He disappeared into the bathroom to change almost 30 minutes ago, and Remus would be lying if it said it wasn't worried. It turns over to look at the ceiling, making bored popping noises with its lips.
It doesn't blame Janus for any nervousness there may be, Janus hasn't been naked around... well, any of the sides for as long as it can remember. Remus can't place when it happened, but as Thomas grew up and Janus became more engrossed in his role, he started to cover up everything. Literally and metaphorically. Long sleeves and even gloves, at one point when they were a teen he even had a half mask on his face before everyone discovered his snake-like features.
Remus knows Janus must be getting into pyjamas, and the sound of shuffling indicates it doesn't have to speculate for very much longer. Janus cracks open the door slightly, just enough to see his face, his long hair down and swaying by his chin. "Remus?"
"Yeah, Janus? Everything okay in there?"
"Yes. I'm okay. I- I just need you to not act weird, okay? Can you promise?"
Remus sits up cross-legged, face scrunched up in confusion. It chuckles slightly, rolling its eyes. "All I ever do is act weird, but I can tone it down for ya."
"Remus, I'm serious."
It takes pause, blinking and tilting its head to the side softly. Janus's tone of voice is heavily somber and almost nervous, and it's not one that Remus hears often. "Uh, okay. I promise, no weirdness."
Janus takes in a deep breath, and the door opens. His hand falls from the knob and holds his own wrist anxiously, eyes refusing to make contact with a nervous attempt at a coy smile filling his features. "I- I know it's a lot, feel free to stare and ogle as long as you'd like." Janus's biting sarcasm feels completely toothless, and he can't quite make himself look at Remus's face. So, when its suddenly right in front of him, he startles and gasps quietly. But as he's pulling away, Remus is reaching towards him.
"Stare and act weird at you about this? What? Why would I be that mean?" Remus lets its hand hover between them as it waits for a sign that it's okay to touch. It tries not to look outwardly fascinated by the scars that cover its boyfriend's arms almost entirely, all thick and bumpy in varying shades of purple and white. Old, but definitely some nasty keloids.
"Remus you've done meaner things in your sleep, don't play with me." Janus laughs and it comes out strained. Cringing at himself, he barely feels present all of a sudden. Like he's floating. Dizzy, lightheaded. "I know you've seen scars before, though you only seem to have them for a short time when you do get them, but they... stayed on me." Janus rubs his own arm, horrifically textured no matter what he does, breathing out shakily. Remus is observing him silently, and Remus is never silent. It makes him terrified. "Sorry, I know they're gross, this was probably overstepping. It was wrong to assume you'd be okay with it, I can go back to my own-"
Remus's hands close the gap, and rests right there, directly touching his scars. "Nah, you assumed right, I don't mind one bit!" It smiles, sharp teeth gleaming at him. "The shit you've seen me touch and you thought I'd find you gross? Jan, that's so unintelligent that I barely recognize you." Janus is frozen in place, his eyes watching Remus's face as it touches his arm, running its hands over even the ones Janus won't let himself touch. A gentle smile fills its face, and it leans in to plant a kiss on Janus's cheek. "Certainly adds a bit of dramatic flair to one's body, huh?"
Janus feels tears in his eyes, glancing to the side as Remus kisses his scales. He can't seem to make words come out of his mouth, because if they did it would just be bashful apologies and humiliated proclamations of how ugly he is.
"Did someone tell you you were gross?" Remus asks, bizarrely quiet and soft compared to its usual self.
"God no, I'd rather die than show any of the others this. No, I did all the name calling myself, thank you very much."
Remus's arms wrap around him in a hug, gripping him tightly. "Well then tell that asshole to shut up for once, why don't you?" It buries its face into Janus's shoulder. "I will hunt down and eat anyone who ever says those things to you, and that includes you yourself!"
"Remus..." Janus can't help a light, comforted chuckle at the expression of violence. "You won't be eating anyone, down boy," he jokes, laughing even as he's sniffling.
Remus pulls back, gazing at him fondly. "You're really pretty, Janus. Scars included." Its eyes darken playfully. "And when I see a pretty boy I want him in my bed!" Remus suddenly swoops Janus up over its shoulder like a sack, making the smaller side yelp and cling to it upside down. Without time to adjust he's chucked haphazardly into a pile of pillows, wheezing out a laugh and covering his face.
"My god, you're so dumb. Fine then, bed me Mr. Duke," Janus dramatically throws a hand against his forehead and lays back as though on a fainting couch.
Remus cackles and throws itself on the pillows right beside him. "No offense, babe, but I'm exhausted and I'd rather just cuddle and feel up your sick ass battle wounds, if you'd let me. I can even scream dramatically and act like I stepped in horse shit if that'll validate your self flagellation!"
"Oh, how caring and noble an offer," Janus quips, rolling his eyes and cuddling against Remus's chest. They both laugh, and then go quiet, staring across at each other.
"Love you," Remus offers up.
"Love you too," Janus accepts, the room darkening as Remus wills it to and settling them into darkness for sleep.
#ask to tag#cw self harm#tw self harm#dukeceit#janus sanders#remus sanders#tss fanfiction#tss fanfic#tss fanart#sanders sides fanfiction#sanders sides#eyestrain#eyestrain tw#bright colours
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he's like a different person.
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@alaynestone tagged me to list my nine favourite films i watched for the first time in 2022 a while ago and i forgot to do it, but what’s a better time to think about the last year than the first of february? i tried to put these in an order starting from persona but it's not definitive, just reflective of that first watching experience. so more of a "favourite first watches" than "favourite films" list if you will.
unfortunately i didn’t get to watch that many new releases last year so notably there’s only one 2022 release here (shoutout to tytöt tytöt tytöt and triangle of sadness though). and special shoutout to éric rohmer and márta mészáros, two of my new favourite directors (and the old faves bergman wong kar-wai and almodóvar and getting closer to "completing" their filmography)!
#thank you for tagging me <3#i love making lists like this but somehow i just didn't get around to doing this earlier whoops#i made this purely based on my ratings on letterboxd and bad education & bridges would've never even crossed my mind otherwise lol#these seem somewhat random but it's nothing compared to my frustrating list of 5/5 movies#(i never give anything 5/5 on a first watch so these are all 4.5/5 + in the mood for love which came close)#rt
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Cis men are wild. My boyfriend called me today to tell me about his morning, and he says he went to a friends house to have breakfast, and I know most of his friends so I was like "Oh nice, who'd you have breakfast with?" and he says "Oh you wouldn't know him, he's my new smoking buddy, I just met him yesterday."
And so I, mildly horrified, said "...You had breakfast with a stranger you met yesterday... At his house?? " And my dear boyfriend scoffs and says "He's not a stranger, we're friends!"
#and he didn't even tell anyone where he was going first#and he's not a big dude#he's very petite#he's not weak or defenseless#but like... c'mon#and he thinks im the weird one#for asking him to maybe have a few more self preservation instincts#this also reminds me of the time#that me and some guy friends watched a movie about 3 dudes#taking a roadtrip from the u.s. to central america on motorcycles#and they hitchhiked and stayed in strangers houses#and i said “i could probably never do that”#and my friends tried to be encouraging and told me i could#learn to ride a motorcycle and i could save up money#and i was like “no. guys. im a girl. id get murdered. or raped. or kidnapped. or all 3.”#and those possibilities hadn't even crossed their minds#somethin personnel kid
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento
yuuji accidentally calls you mom
contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059
“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”
kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.
a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.
so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.
“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”
yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.
“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.
“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”
he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”
there's an elongated moment of silence.
you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.
all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“
“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“
though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”
you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.
kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”
you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.
“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.
yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.
“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!
kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.
“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”
"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."
kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.
though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.
you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”
yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”
kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”
you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.
"you should be nicer to your son, kento."
kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."
you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.
but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.
"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.
kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."
#kento nanami x reader#jjk x reader#nanami fluff#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#kento nanami x you#nanami x reader#jjk x fem!reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
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a darling and a virgin | f. odair
masterlist
summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.
pairing: finnick odair x reader
warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.
notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.
word count: 6.8k
Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.
For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.
Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.
For six whole months.
When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.
You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.
Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.
So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.
“Pretty cold out here.”
A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.
“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”
He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.
Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.
Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.
“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”
You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.
Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.
“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”
To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.
Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”
Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.
With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”
Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.
“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"
“Finnick.”
“He’s a fucking—”
“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”
He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.
You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.
His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.
The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”
You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.
Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.
“You’re a virgin?”
Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.
“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”
Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”
God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.
He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.
His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”
Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.
“Okay,” you said warily.
The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.
His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”
*************
You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.
Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.
After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.
You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.
Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—
“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.
But your gaze remained on the bed.
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”
Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.
“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”
He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”
“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”
He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”
A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.
Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.
The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.
“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”
The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.
You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.
Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.
“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.
You nodded.
“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”
His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.
“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.
He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.
“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”
Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.
Finnick Odair was kissing you.
His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.
This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.
A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.
“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”
He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”
Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.
“Is that okay?” he asked.
You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”
“Okay, good.”
Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.
He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.
And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.
Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.
Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.
When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.
A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.
It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.
After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.
One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.
Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.
He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.
His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”
“Yes, please,” you breathed.
As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.
Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.
“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.
But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.
“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”
His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”
He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.
Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.
Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”
You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”
And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.
There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.
Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.
Does it hurt?
You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.
He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.
His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.
Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.
“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.
Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.
He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.
Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.
Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.
“Tell me to stop and I will.”
You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.
Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.
He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.
His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.
Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”
He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.
Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.
His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.
While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.
Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”
Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.
You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.
And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.
Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.
People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.
His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.
“Finnick,” you moaned.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.
His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.
This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.
Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.
It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.
Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.
“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.
He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.
“Yes!” you cried out.
Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.
The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.
“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.
Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”
Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.
As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.
Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"
Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.
His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.
He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.
After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.
Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.
Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.
“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.
His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.
You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”
You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.
He whispered, “Me too.”
#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair#finnick x reader#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x you#finnick x you#finnick imagine#thg finnick#sam claflin#catching fire#the hunger games#mockingjay#katniss and peeta#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair smut#finnick odair fluff#finnick x oc#thg fanfiction
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Tentateur
Miguel O'Hara x Cheated on!fem Reader
WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT at the end, bit of angst, fluff, adult situations. Cheating, divorce.
Requested here
Summary: Miguel can't stand watching you being neglected by your husband.
------
If there was something Miguel hated, was life being too generous upon those that didn't deserve it, not even the slightest. Meaning, a dickhead for a coworker and sadly, your husband.
How could such a guy like him ended up with a sweetheart like you was beyond him, The man was apathetic, little to no charm, rude and an absolute bastard.
"She's uh, my wife." He had said flatly. Your name felt like sandpaper on his tongue as it rolled out of it while introducing you to the rest at a small party at Alchemax.
Miguel had noticed the little stab of hurt crossing your angelic face. He wanted to punch him straight in the face, even some of the other couples had noticed the small tension. But you just stood there, trying to give your best smile. The golden band around your finger and the loving stare your eyes casted on your husband was a clear 'Don't even try it' for him.
But for once, Miguel didn't care.
----
He didn't exactly know how the crush on you had started. At first he thought that was just him feeling lonely and that his eyes wandered too much. But when you visited, lunch bag in hand, looking for your husband only to give him a bedazzling smile upon seeing him, and he receiving you with a tight-lipped smile, made his heart to break a little more.
"Hey" You were about to kiss him but he just backed away.
"I'm working."
"Alright, alright. See you later?"
He just gave a quick nod and put the lunchbox on his desk. There wasn't love in his goodbye kiss, Miguel noted. Once you were out, he rummaged through its contents while rolling his eyes.
He looked around and spotted Miguel with a mug on his hand.
"Hey, pal." He called and offered him.
"Want some?" Miguel seized him from head to toes but just nodded. It felt the only way that he could have a bit of you at the moment.
"Take whatever you like. Wife always goes overboard with food." Miguel took the small dessert container. It tasted divine. It only matched your own sweetness.
Lucky Bastard.
Oh he was. His eyebrows pressed together as he kept giving away all the food you had so dotingly prepared him.
----
"Can we talk about this later? You can't just keep visiting me every time you feel so"
"But you keep forgetting lunch at home, can't leave you like-"
"It's fine really, we have vending machines here." Your husband grumbled, but you couldn't help but hold the lunchbox tightly against your arms.
"I see. Sorry." You gave him a small smile, "See you later?"
"Im busy today. Might get a couple hours late. Don't wait for me."
You just nodded as Miguel jaw tensed.
How dared he?
You left.
-----
You had bumped into him at the supermarket on a weekend. Your cart was full of food, food that would end up in his hands and the rest of the team but never in your husband's mouth.
"Miguel, right?"
He nodded as he pulled some items for himself in his basket.
"Thanks for helping me." you smiled, his heart thumped harder.
"Where is..." He cleared his throat and you looked up at him.
"My husband? Oh, he said he had an extra shift today. Working in Alchemax surely is hard, I mean, I try to make it less... bad for him."
Miguel's mind was sneering, not at you but at the fake pretense of a hard working man the son of a bitch had put up with you. He knew the truth, he knew your husband only went there, did things wrong and half assed, and lately he had been flirting shamelessly with a lab technician from the upper floor.
His hatred for the man only grew, just as his admiration for you. What truly made you marry someone like him? That's the biggest question he had so far.
"I'm kind of nervous, today's our anniversary. I wanna surprise him with something" Your cheeks tinted red.
God you were killing him. He wanted to grab you gently by your shoulders, and say 'I can be better' cause of course he could, he was. You'd never have to settle for less with him.
'I appreciate you' cause he did, unlike the fool you had married. 'You'd never have to beg me' because in truth, he was already at your feet.
But you weren't his. Not yet.
-----
Sighing, Miguel put the lab test equipment away, then headed for the main office to get a couple more samples of a liquid he tried, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.
Legs wrapped around a man's waist, as his pants were down at his ankles. The woman shrieked once she noticed Miguel standing there with a frown and disgusted face. Miguel’s anger froze when the man next to her turned to be none but your husband.
The man recoiled to himself upon Miguel glaring holes his way.
----
His shoulder was poked by none other that the cheating pig.
"Uh, hey. Can we.... Can you, I mean-"
He stumbled on his words, Miguel towered over him, his eyes belittling him. He was bold.
"You saw nothing, yeah?"
And oh so phony. Disgusting.
Miguel just went back to his work.
It was the last straw.
-------
To his surprise you were sitting on a café, puffy and tear crusted eyes staring into nothingness, a phone on your hands. You knew.
He didn't know whether to approach you, or just leave you be. As much as he wanted you, he knew that coming at you in your most vulnerable state would not only make a bad impression oh him, but he didn't want to act like a vulture, looming over your broken heart for him to take.
He approached carefully.
"Hey"
"Miguel..."
"Are you okay?"
Your eyes avoided him.
"May I sit?"
You nodded with a hiccup and he offered you his handkerchief, fresh hot tears spilled in the soft fabric. His chest constricting at the sight.
"He cheated on me."
Much to your dismay, he knew. Of course, he wanted to tell you, but knowing how careless your husband acted, it was a matter of time for you to discover the cheating.
"I'm really sorry to hear that."
Shaking your head, you sniffed
"He has been doing this for months. Should've... saw this coming. I mean... I found so many pictures of a woman and... God"
He was pretty sure that he would punch the man next time he'd see him.
"He never came home to our anniversary, but even way before that. He just... I wasn't enough."
He frowned and took your hand softly.
"Stop. Cheating is a personal choice, guapa. You can't blame yourself for other's choices. He decided to do so, to trash away his marriage. It has nothing to do with you."
"Maybe if... I was-"
"No. You're... you're perfect. Puta madre, you're more than perfect. He's a lucky bastard just to have you. And... If I was him-"
He stopped his words and pursed his lips. You didn't need this. He'd have to be patient. You stared at him gently.
"I'll file for a divorce. He's barely coming home anyways and... that pretty much says on it's own that is over."
Miguel just nodded.
"Might celebrate it." You chuckled after wiping your tears.
"Can I ask you something?"
Again, you nodded.
"I know it's none of my business but, I'm just genuinely curious as to why you'd marry him?"
"Impulsiveness, I guess." you shrugged, your hand resting some inches away from his.
"He just proposed one day out of the blue, we had been dating for six months. Don't... don't look at me like that. I know it was stupid." you groaned.
"It's alright. You thought it was love." His hand inched closer, you nodded.
"We had our problems. A lot, actually. But... instead of speaking things like a fucking adult, he went on cheating."
"Mira, guapa... yo" He trailed off unsure of resisting any longer, his resolution to wait vanishing, "I know that this is a really bad time for you and-"
"Please... don't. Miguel I-"
"Just listen, ok? Please?" His hand finally took yours gently.
"I know this is the least of things you need right now, but... You have no idea how... how perfect you are. I always saw you visiting him, being loving, and he just threw all that away. He lost you. You're way too much for him."
Your body tensed upon sensing where this was going. Of course you weren't ignorant, you'd notice the glances he would give your way, the yearning in his eyes every time you kissed or acted like lovesick fool with your glacial husband.
" Let me show you, how would I treat you, if you were mine."
"Miguel, I don't want to-."
"Let me take you to dinner. If you don't like anything and I mean it, anything, I'll stop and leave you be. Just a dinner. Hell, you could ramble about him for hours and I'd just be happy for you to be there."
You sighed, it was a rather simple choice to say yes or no. There was nothing that actually tied you to your ex husband now. Just a very skewed moral code.
" Just a dinner. "
His heart fluttered and he nodded
"Just a dinner and I'll drop you home."
----
Miguel helped you out of his car, eyes drinking in your form. He would be lying if he said that he didn't feel jealous of the dress you were wearing, snugging all your curves in the right spots, just a tiny thing to make your own beauty to stand out even more. Gorgeous, flawless, divine and perfect.
You gasped at the location
"Are you sure this is the place? It's quite expensive."
Your concern was endearing, he offered you his arm and guided you inside.
"You're worth it, princesa."
The place seemed like being inspired from an old movie, elegant, classic and of course fancy. Never in your life your ex husband would actually treat you to places like these. His card would explode, he said once. Other places were good, but this was in a whole new level of luxury.
Miguel held the chair for you, and you sat, he followed.
"This place is gorgeous." He chuckled and took your hand to kiss your soft knuckles.
"Just like you."
----
Time flew, the night had been to your surprise one of the best things that you have experienced. You had tasted things that didn't know existed, Miguel had fed you the dessert, pampering you to no end. The wine was delicious.
As night advanced, his little touches had turned more and more risqué, his fingers would take a taste of your exposed thigh skin, your hands would brush his, fiery and small caresses that sparked a silent yet mutual fire.
Once home you couldn't get your hands out of eachother. He had to be careful to not rip your dress to bits, he needed you. The wet kisses in your neck and his wandering hands all over your heated body the proof of it. When was the last time that someone touched you like this?
Not even him, the man that oathed to love you and be with you through thick and thin. A gentle rub on your clit by expert fingers made you forget about him. Lock his memory in a vault and you'd throw the key somewhere. Your hips would buck against his hand, rolling on waves after waves of pleasure.
"He didn't touch you?" You shook your head as your mouth gaped open.
"When was-"
"Shut up." you moaned breathlessly. An I don't know nor care.
Your body responded so well too him, be the need you tried to sate with your own hands, or the loneliness that had made you so desperate that had you squirming and soaked and he was only using his hands so far. With Miguel, things felt differently. He did things differently. And different was good. So so good.
His hunger for you shown and conveyed in every caress and touch he gave you. He was gentle enough for his desire to permeate your skin. You didn't feel alone. You felt needed. Loved even. There was no turning back once you discarded all the clothes on both ends.
----
Opposite to what you believed, your heart wasn't flooding with guilt. No.
There were no longer what ifs and what not constantly echoing in your brain. There was no longer that constricting sensation in your chest you always had. No more uncertainty. You were free.
Last night Miguel, whose arms cradled your form to be snuggled in his chest and his thigh hooked on your hip, hoarding you. As if fearful you'd go away, had made you experience a whole new concept of pleasure. Your body soared in bliss, you were glowing, He had given you climax after climax, making every single one of them more shattering and intense than the other.
That's all you wanted really. Feel at ease and blissful. Miguel had given you that and more. More than you actually ever though deserving. It was just a matter of time that you'd finally take him whole.
You wanted him. His kindness, his care, his love, his grumpyness during mornings, the way he cursed in spanish whenever he'd stub his toe in the nightstand. You wanted it all.
Of course you had filed for a divorce as soon as you could, your husband was more than happy to comply. He hadn't been home for a while, Miguel even told you that he had quitted. It was as if the universe was removing him from your life ever since you started with Miguel a couple months ago.
But none of that mattered. Not when he had plopped you down to bed, hands holding a firm grip in your sweaty and smooth skin, hips straddling yours and plowing into you from behind, prone bone position. His hips buried himself deep, hitting that spot over and over. He wasn't gentle, but that's just exactly how you liked it.
Before you could actually reach the stars he flipped you over, your thighs resting ontop of his. He sheathed once more inside. Your phone buzzed.
You growled in annoyance, Miguel sighed. A number you knew all too well. Finally you'd get the news you so needed to hear.
"Y-Yeah?" Miguel smirked as he held your thighs together and pushed in further, his tip kissing your cervix so deliciously you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan. The little baby bump in your abdomen barely noticeable.
"Shit's done. Papers are signed."
There was a bit of rustling and the clinking of glass. By his tone, you knew he was getting drunk, celebrating. Miguel took the phone and put it on speaker.
"Ya know? I'm glad I did. Couldn't stand you, nagging all the time. But I'm a free man now, baby." His gulping, something you secretly hated, could be heard on the other line.
Miguel frowned and spreaded your legs once more.
"You there?" Your ex chuckled, "It's okay if you're crying, won't judge"
So so annoying.
A smirk appeared on your face as Miguel focused the camera on your body. He then turned the video call on. The man's face instantly fell upon watching you bouncing on a cock that surely put his to shame. Spine arching, breast jiggling and mouth spewing the lewdest of moans and needy whimpers he hsd ever heard from you. One tan hand secured you in place, preventing you from squirming too much.
"Sorry, pal." He grunted as he started to ram his hips in abandonment, making your toes curl. Your face and body said it all. The video image shaking at his thrust
"Just like that, bonita?" You choked a sob as he went balls in deep, nodding and begging him for him to not stop.
"She's busy." He hung up the call before the man could say anything and tossed your phone somewhere in the bed.
You felt so good, perfect for him, And now you were all his.
------
tag list: @primroselovessupernatural
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara smut#spiderman 2099 smut#t writes✨
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TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference
gn reader
Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...
“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.
“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….”
“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way.
“You...”
You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.
“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”
He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.
“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”
You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”
You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.
“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.”
You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.
“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.
You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.
“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.
“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.
You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.
He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.
“You’re being childish.” You stated.
“Childish?!”
His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.
"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.
"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."
Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.
“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.
“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.
Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.
“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.
“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”
“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.
But it would seem he was beyond reason…
“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”
You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...
But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.
“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.
Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.
“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”
You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.
“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.
And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.
The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had.
“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”
“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.
“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”
You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.
“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”
You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.
You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.
“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”
BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima
JJK – Sukuna, Gojo
HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins
BLLK – Reo, Isagi
AOT – Eren
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere smut#yancore#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#jjk smut#bnha smut#yandere bnha#mha smut#my hero smut#yandere csm#yandere aot
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His Father's Son
Rafe Cameron x Reader
Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.
warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
⭑
The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.
You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.
“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.
Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.
Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.
Now 8:03.
“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”
You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.
“Tell Wheezie-.”
“I already took Wheezie to school.”
The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.
“…oh.”
You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.
“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”
You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.
You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.
“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”
There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.
“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”
Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.
When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?
He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.
You loved him.
…and then he died.
With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.
…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.
Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.
Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.
“Did you hear me?”
His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.
“What?”
Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.
“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.
You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.
You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.
You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.
You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.
Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.
The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.
“Rafe-.”
“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.
“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”
“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”
You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.
“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”
You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…
Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.
You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.
Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.
“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.
You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.
“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”
You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.
You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.
“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”
She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.
You forced yourself to ignore it.
“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”
“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”
At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.
“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”
You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.
You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.
It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.
“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”
At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?
“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.
“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”
You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.
“You don’t know anything about it.”
The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.
“No…but…”
Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.
“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”
The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.
“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”
You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.
“…but you don’t get it.”
Rafe looked between your eyes.
“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.
“Rafe…”
“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”
Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.
“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”
You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.
“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”
Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.
“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”
You looked away, avoiding his eye.
“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”
You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.
You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.
It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.
The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…
Much like he was doing now.
“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”
Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.
“Is she okay?”
It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.
You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.
“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”
You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.
“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.
“What…?”
“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.
In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.
You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.
“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”
You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.
“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”
Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.
“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”
You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.
You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.
You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.
“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.
“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”
You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.
It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.
Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.
“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.
“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”
“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”
You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.
“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.
While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.
“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”
Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.
“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.
“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.
You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.
“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”
The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.
“It’s family dinner night.”
You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.
“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”
“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”
When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.
“Why?” you chuckled.
Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.
“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.
You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.
“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”
You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.
“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”
You tilted your head at him when he looked away.
“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”
When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.
“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”
You blinked.
“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”
You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.
“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”
His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.
“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.
Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.
“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”
You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,
“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”
“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”
The younger girl didn’t respond right away.
“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”
That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.
“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”
You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.
When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.
“Things are going to be different, now.”
“Rafe.”
Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.
“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”
“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.
“She’s grieving!”
“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”
You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.
“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.
The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.
“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”
You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.
“Fuck, that’s not…”
His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.
You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.
“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.
Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.
You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.
“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”
“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”
You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.
“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.
You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.
“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”
You sighed at that.
“Not necessarily, I just-.”
“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”
You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.
“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”
You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.
“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”
You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.
“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.
You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.
“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.
You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.
“Do not touch me like that again.”
Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.
“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”
Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.
“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”
His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.
The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.
“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”
As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.
In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.
“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.
“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”
He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.
“They already don’t like you…”
You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.
“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”
You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.
“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”
Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.
In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.
“I never have,” was his response.
“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”
You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.
“Why not?”
“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”
His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.
The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.
When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.
The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.
“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”
“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.
The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.
Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.
You wanted to gag.
His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.
Hard.
You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.
When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.
You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.
You wanted him out of the house.
…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.
You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.
You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.
Was this your fault?
Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.
Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?
As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.
…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.
You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.
She was right.
…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.
It was noticeable.
“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.
You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.
“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”
She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.
“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”
Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.
“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”
You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.
“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”
“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”
The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.
“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”
Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.
“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”
You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.
Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.
The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.
Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.
It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.
Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.
The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…
…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.
You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.
Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.
Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.
You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.
As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.
With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.
Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.
“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”
Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.
“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.
You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.
You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.
With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.
He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.
He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.
As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.
Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.
When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”
You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.
He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.
Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.
When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.
“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.
At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.
He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.
So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.
It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.
With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.
“My dad’s gone…”
The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.
“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”
He swallowed, looking between your eyes.
“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”
His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.
“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#obx#outer banks#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine
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Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |
Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.
Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink
Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).
Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype
Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️
As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.
As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.
She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.
She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.
The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.
The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.
Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.
Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.
Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.
For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.
Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.
Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.
His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.
As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.
Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.
The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.
Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.
You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.
Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.
Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.
You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.
More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.
Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.
About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.
Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.
Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.
This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.
It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.
-
Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.
As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.
He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.
The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.
All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!
It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.
He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.
He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.
It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.
Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.
After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.
It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.
Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.
As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.
As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.
Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.
Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.
You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.
By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.
Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.
-
As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.
The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.
Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.
Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.
As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.
The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.
“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.
His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.
Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”
He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.
Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.
“How’s your arm?”
“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.
He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.
“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.
How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”
“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”
His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”
“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”
“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”
He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”
“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.
He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.
As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.
As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.
It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.
“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?
Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.
As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.
Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.
You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.
“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”
“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.
“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”
Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.
“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.
Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.
“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.
“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”
He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”
Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”
“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”
“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”
“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”
You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”
Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.
He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”
You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.
So much bigger, too.
You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”
You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.
“Oh…shit.”
This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.
“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”
“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”
You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.
You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”
It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”
The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.
Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”
He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”
He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”
His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”
You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”
He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”
“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.
His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”
“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”
His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.
You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”
Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”
The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”
Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.
“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.
It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.
“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.
He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”
You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.
His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”
Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.
He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”
You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.
“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.
“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”
“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.
“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.
“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.
He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”
“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”
You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.
He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.
“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.
“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.
“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.
You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”
He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”
You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.
“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.
You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”
“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.
“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”
“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.
Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”
“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.
His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.
“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.
“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”
He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.
“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.
“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”
“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.
“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”
Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”
He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.
Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”
You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”
“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”
“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.
“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.
“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”
You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.
The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.
He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.
Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.
Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.
You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.
-
Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr
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#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader smut
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