#warming up someones hands only to trace them til they giggle
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I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so ready for cozy weather tkls
#tickling fingers sneaking into your hoodie pocket to get your belly#warming up someones hands only to trace them til they giggle#snuggling and blowing raspberries into the crook of their neck when they least expect it just to hear the squeal#ahhgsjdhd#neeed#mine
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—stay. (m)
⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader
⟶ genre: popstar!jungkook x groupie!reader + smut / sprinkle of angst and fluff
⟶ words: 8,083
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ summary: jungkook wasn’t always so madly in love with you but the fact that you’re sleeping with two of his band mates too makes things a tad bit complicated.
⟶ warnings: multiple smut scenes, slight dom themes, oral sex, finger sucking oops, boob fondling, hair pulling ft. jungkook’s undercut, doggy style, missionary, thigh riding, spitting, jealous kook!!, unprotected sex, kind of slight possessive themes? but also just general sweetness tbh
⟶ disclaimer: my time jungkook still has me in my feels! also, this is a repost of an old fic on an old blog.
“Stay with me?”
Jungkook asks this hopefully, of course, but he already knows the answer. It’s just that, lying there with you on the hotel room bed, there’s no other place he’d rather be ━ and there’s no one else he’d rather experience the moment with than you. Legs tangled together on top of the duvet with your fingers tracing circles onto his bare chest, Jungkook swears he’s in love with you ━ only, you’re not his to have.
“I have to go,” You pout, though your fingers continue drawing constellations on his skin, treading down his arm and over the tattoos that adorn him. You’re focusing now on the lily on his forearm, around and around, sending his head spiralling. “Promised my friends we could hang out today. Besides, don’t you have Mina or Nina━” You wave your hand in the air to dismiss the thought━ “coming over soon?”
“Who?” It takes him a moment to even remember who you’re talking about. Truthfully, he hasn’t seen that girl in well over six months but he’d never tell you that. In fact, he hasn’t been seeing anyone else other than you but he would definitely never tell you that. “Oh, yeah. Well, I think she’s coming over later tonight.”
“Well━” You trail off, and Jungkook knows it’s because you’re stalling. You want to stay, and he knows it well enough, but every question you ask him is just meant to further reassure you that it’s okay if you stay. That he wants you to. “Aren’t you busy with work today before the second show?”
Jungkook shrugs. “We still have lots of time before the day starts.”
You shake your head at him but he knows he ultimately wins out when you start to smile to yourself. You prop yourself up beside him and he has to admire momentarily how you’ve never been timid in front of him when you’re naked. His hand reaches out to brush his fingers against your cheek and you smile down at him. But then something seems to dawn on him that he can’t believe he foolishly hadn’t thought of first.
“Unless… Unless you need to see one of them soon.”
“Who?”
“Taehyung or Namjoon.” It takes all he can muster to say their names without a trace of bitterness. He lifts himself up on his elbow. “Are you still seeing them?”
You shrug innocently. Sitting up a little straighter, you brush his hand away and fidget with your hair. “Would it matter if I was?”
Yes, he wants to scream but he refrains. “No. I just━” he stops. “Just curious. Is that what you meant by work then? You have to go see Tae or something right after me? ”
“No, you prick.” He’s relieved you giggle at him, fingers poking at his chest despite the fact that he was mentally cursing himself for being a dick the minute the words left his mouth. “Believe it or not, I do have a life outside of sex. Friends, too.”
“I know, I know,” he says sheepishly. “Sorry, I━ I know. You said you wanted to go shopping downtown before the show tonight, right? One of your friends ━ Dahyun ━ goes to school in the next city over and she’s taking the day off to see you. I do listen when you talk, y’know?”
He doesn’t miss the warm smile that spreads across your face. You finally return to him, kissing him slow and steadily. In the meantime, he flips you over onto your back and then parts from you much to your dismay. He’s nestled himself between your legs in an instant, kissing up your thigh and sending shivers down your spin. Your hand flies down to twine your fingers in his hair, now much longer than usual.
“I guess I could stay a little longer, if you’d want me to,” You say.
“I do.”
He wastes no time in swiping his tongue at your folds, his mouth wrapping perfectly around you. You’re already mewling with delight. That’s all it ever is with the two of you. Sex and more sex. And while Jungkook isn’t complaining, he sure does wish he could just have more of you. Jungkook burrows a little deeper, his nose rubbing against your clit as he eats you out.
“Morning sex does sound nice,” You manage to say, breath shaking.
“Yeah,” he rasps against you. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Your thighs are already threatening to squeeze shut around his head, fingers tightening in their hold. His own hands find purchase on your waist, stretching outward to hold on to you, and nothing can break you both apart. Not even the muffled sound of rapid knocking on the front door of the too grand hotel room. At least, not the first two times. On the third time when it’s followed by the sound of Jungkook’s manager irritably calling out through the flimsy wood panel, does Jungkook groan into your cunt and poke his head upward, craning his neck to look over his shoulder as his manager’s voice carries infuriatingly loudly to you both once again.
“Get up already, will you? We’ve got several business meetings to conduct today and we haven’t got time for you to sleep off a hangover or whatever it is you’re doing━”
“Gimme ‘til noon!” Jungkook asserts gruffly. He settles himself back between your thighs, and you surely don’t miss the devious way he smirks just before burrowing his head into your heat. There’s an inaudible sound that he makes, that you and certainly his manager can distinguish as being, “I’m too busy right now.”
Busy is an understatement, pointedly made clear when his tongue delves into you, lapping at your leaking wetness as if he were terribly quenched and only you could save him. You don’t think Jungkook taking his morning to eat you out is a good enough excuse that will run over well with his manager later in the day, but it drives him away for now with only a grumbled chorus of words left in his wake. But the silence only lasts for so long. Just as Jungkook is getting comfortable once more, you speak up.
“I don’t think tardiness is a very good quality to have as a celebrity,” You ponder aloud through a heavily pleased sigh.
“Ah, or it’s exactly the thing I need,” he counters with a shit-eating grin. “Being late is a very celebrity thing, isn’t it?”
“When the fame gets to their head,” You snort. Your voice splinters off into a whimper as he tilts his chin up a little higher, lapping deeper into you.
“Then I guess I’m bad.” His voice murmurs against you, rattling you to the bone.
“You’re definitely far from bad. Everyone thinks you’re an angel.”
“Wonder if they’d think the same thing if they saw me now━” He pinches lightly at the inside of your thigh, “head between your legs, and you coming on my tongue.”
You roll your eyes, but your wittiness falls short when he tugs with his teeth at your folds. Your back arches off the bed at once, hips pressing harder against his face.
“Namjoon called last night,” You say. No, you don’t say it. You moan it and even though Jungkook knows it’s because of him and how he’s making you feel in that moment, he still hates hearing someone else’s name roll off the tip of your tongue that isn’t his. “If you must know. Said he wanted to see me in the morning━”
Jungkook grimaces. He grunts shortly, “Guess you’re gonna have to let him down.”
“I’m sure Joon will love that━”
“Don’t,” he hisses. He bites down a little harshly on the inside of your thigh but you don’t mind. When he glances up to look at you, his stare is dark and hooded. “Don’t say their names. Not now. Please.”
You almost miss the desperation in his voice, the way he almost whines his words. You don’t ask, even though you’re curious. You don’t ask, even when he eats you out that morning until he’s made sure you’re crying his name and nothing else. You don’t ask, even when fucks you slow and deep and measured and almost, dare you say, loving like he never has before, clinging onto you as if he can’t live without you. You don’t ask, even when he may get a little rough (just how you like it), as if he’s afraid you’ll leave him right then and there. You don’t even ask when he sucks not one but two hickeys on your neck, large enough for anyone to see. For Taehyung and Namjoon to see.
You never really do ask, even though you notice things have become different.
It’s not as if you haven’t always been close to one another. There are more times than not in which you both physically can’t keep your hands off of one another in public, though in the safest and simplest ways possible. It’s there, in the way you sit next to him with your legs crossed regally on the couch in the green room backstage before a set, playing with the rings on his fingers on the hand resting on your shoulder; there, in the way you sit draped across his lap, leaning into his chest, in the studio as they blur through recordings. When you give advice on composing or lyric writing, Jungkook listens. When you giggle into his ear and whisper lewd things when you probably shouldn’t in the middle of a party with important business men and other celebrities, Jungkook is captivated.
It wasn’t always supposed to be like this. Jungkook wasn’t always so madly in love with you, but he always knew there was something about you he just could not get enough of. You had chosen him first, approaching him late one night at a bar, and he was instantly head-over-heels. Even if it was mutually agreed upon ━ and oftentimes never really outwardly mentioned ━ that you could sleep around with him, Namjoon, and Taehyung, then Jungkook would have to deal with it. He would do anything, if it meant getting to see you more. At first he didn’t even mind. What was one more groupie to the ever growing list he had already accumulated? He’s never gotten feelings for any of them, so surely he thought he would be okay with you; that maybe whatever he was feeling for you would go away.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
After he asks you the question the first time, he finds himself stuck in a greedy months-long habit of asking you wistfully every time he finds you in his bed. He asks it a thousand and one times, but only ever gets one response from you. You’ll say no, that you have to leave, and sometimes you will. But sometimes ━ sometimes when he knows he wins out because he knows you let your guard down long enough to become besotted by him, a tangible mess with his every touch ━ you’ll linger just a little longer and the notion alone is enough to instill a sense of hope in Jungkook even if he knows it’s wrong.
And maybe you shouldn’t play along. Then again, he takes all your time and you devote what little you have left afterward to him anyway, pretending that you’re still seeing Taehyung and Namjoon when you’re certainly not.
Sometimes Jungkook catches you when he doesn’t mean to, or isn’t expecting to, and it’s all different moments that physically pain him. Sometimes those moments come from paying one of the guys a visit and stumbling upon you there, too.
After having not seen you for the whole day, and just before the concert begins, Jungkook is called over to Namjoon’s room within the hotel to discuss some last minute changes to the show (which Jungkook’s positive he would have heard about if he hadn’t ignored his manager early in the morning). Only Namjoon doesn’t answer the door when Jungkook arrives. There’s a crescendo of giggling on the other side of the threshold and then it’s you, and you’re standing there wearing nothing but a baggy shirt of Namjoon’s that barely covers your bum (and shorts too, he thinks, but Jungkook’s much too focused now on you in Namjoon’s shirt). Namjoon’s standing a bit further back, leaning against the wall of the hallway without a shirt on and he’s grinning at something that’s just happened.
“Took you long enough,” Namjoon calls out. “Come in, we’ll get started. I’ll just be right back━ Just hopped out of the shower━” And then he disappears into another room, most likely to find another shirt that isn’t taken by you.
“Jungkook!” You greet him so cheerfully, as if the sight of you half naked in another man’s home isn’t eating away at Jungkook. You pull him into a hug that’s so tight he can smell your familiar perfume and probably Namjoon’s lingering scent if he focuses hard enough. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Jungkook says. He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so standoffish. He hopes you don’t notice. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah. The girls had to leave but that’s okay.” You’re smiling so bright and wide that it almost hurts. “Namjoon━”
“Wanted to see you?” Jungkook finishes for you, remembering your words earlier in the day.
“Yeah━” You’re rambling on now but Jungkook isn’t listening. The pain is still lingering and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He knows it isn’t right but he can’t be bothered to care. In that moment, he realizes he’d rather be anywhere but there and he’s never felt that way before.
“Uh━ You know what?” He cringes slightly when he interrupts you. “Forgot I had to do something actually. Mina called earlier ━ said she wanted to talk or whatever.”
Your face immediately drops at the mention of the other girl and it pains him even more to know that you don’t see through his blatant lie. What’s worse is that Mina had called him the night before, but he had turned her down promptly before she could even say what she wanted.
You glance over your shoulder fleetingly as if to look for Namjoon, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your lower lip. “But I thought you needed to talk with Joon about the show?”
“Can’t, sorry. Tell Namjoon he can do whatever he wants. I don’t care. Seems like he’s got his hands full with you here anyway.”
He hates himself for it ━ he hates how petty he can be, how rude he can sound without truly meaning it ━ but before he can explain himself or apologize in a way that would probably make him look even more like an idiot, he turns his back to you. It’s the first time he’s really ever done something like that. Usually, he puts up with it ━ with you draped over Namjoon’s lap or Taehyung’s hand on your waist because usually he hadn’t always had feelings for you.
Truth be told, Jungkook doesn’t know how Namjoon or Taehyung feel about “sharing” you. He doesn’t even know how you feel about it or if you’ve noticed Jungkook’s short temper lately. He tries to contain it but he can’t and he hates how he’s become when he’s not alone with you. Lately, he’s started to think that maybe this isn’t right anymore. Maybe he shouldn’t keep meeting up with you if he’s going to feel this way all the time, and it wasn’t fair to you for him to be sulking so much. He’s not supposed to be in love. He’s supposed to be having fun.
After all, that’s what it was to you, wasn’t it?
But that night something happens.
Jungkook only notices you half an hour into the show later that night even despite the fact that you’re in the same place that you always are, standing on the side in the part of the pit closest to the stage where only family and close friends are allowed to stay. Of course you’re dancing along, just like you always do, and of course you’re watching him and the rest of the boys with starry eyes, just how he loves. You smiled wide at some point when his gaze locked with yours ━ him, drenched in sweat and nearing exhaustion, and you, face-flushed and looking as if you’re having the time of your life.
But that’s the thing about you ━ you’re not like the others. Sure, your eyes tend to drift to him more often than not and linger on him longer than necessary but you don’t just come for him. You live for the music, admire the rest of the boys that have treated him so dearly and make the group what it is.
And the way he performs ━ you wonder if he purposely exerts himself more because he wants you to only focus on him. Every rough thrust of his hips, every time he grabs at his crotch, dark and hooded eyes meets yours and you know he’s trying to tease you. Trying to make you suffer.
Later, when the concert is finished and you’re at a private room in a club with the boys to celebrate the evening and Jungkook has had one too many shots, he finds you at the bar. He sidles up from behind you, one palm sliding onto the small of your back. You know it’s him even before you look, judging by the familiar stature of his chest pressing against your body, and his usual scent. His lips press to the crook of your neck and your lips unfurl into a smile. You reach up blindly to grab at the nape of his neck as he starts to sway against you to the beat of the music, hips digging into your ass.
“I’ve been dying to be next to you all night.” He whispers this into the shell of your ear and you wonder vaguely how you’ve maintained enough self-control to not drop to your knees and suck him off then and there. Even worse is the fact that he’s still adorned in the makeup from the concert. Your fingers scratch at one of the newly shaved sides of his head, the rest of his long locks only maintain some of its original style pushed back and off his forehead, though now messily mused as it splays out on either side of his head and threatens to hide the undercut once more.
“You’re drunk,” You point out. He doesn’t seem to register the fact that you only point it out because otherwise, if he wasn’t so smashed, you aren’t quite sure he’d even be touching you the way he is now after the way he’s been acting lately.
“So are you,” Jungkook hums. “Let’s get out of here?”
And you can’t possibly say no.
He thinks it’s a shame, really, because you had looked quite pretty that night wearing a velvet red dress. Because after somehow calling a taxi and stumbling back to his dorm, he gets lost in you for a while and completely ravishes you, impatiently ripping your dress off you and pressing you against the wall, hips eagerly digging into yours until you hook your legs around his hips and he carries you off to bed to finish.
When you’re spent from your first high, Jungkook moves from your sprawled out positions on the bed and gets up, pulling on a pair of discarded sweatpants from the floor. You watch him as he combs his hair back that’s fallen into his face again, muscles in his biceps rippling as he does so. He reaches for an acoustic guitar in one corner, then sinks onto the edge of the bed. He’s not usually this quiet after a night spent together, though you don’t quite seem to notice, thinking nothing of it as he starts plucking away at the guitar with a melody in mind if only because when he’s frustrated and stuck on a lyric, he usually goes to you in seek of help in terms of finding relief. You get to your knees, crawling over to him so that you can drape your arms around his shoulders from the back.
“That’s pretty,” You sigh dreamily, nodding to the guitar and the lazy strumming he had been doing. In the distance, you realize there’s been music playing faintly the whole time from the dock where his phone is plugged in. You recognize one of the boys’ songs playing, then realize it’s Jungkook’s solo, his own voice singing beautifully back to you. Above all else, you realize all at once that he isn’t really playing anything at all, or brainstorming a new song, but plucking along absentmindedly to the melody of his own song.
He’s distracted but he tenses at your touch, then relaxes at once, melting instantly against you. “Just messing around,” he sighs.
“Nonsense,” You giggle. He glances over at you just in time to see you reach for his hand, and he watches as you play with the rings on his fingers. “There’s magic in these hands. In more ways than one.”
You press a chilling kiss against his palm, and then the tip of each of his fingers. Time seems to slow, and all he can suddenly focus on is you.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” His voice has a dull, stubborn whine to it that he can’t shake. “Have I ever told you that?”
“Once or twice,” You smirk. You busy yourself by focusing on lining the bottom of your palm with his, measuring your hand in his. He’s much bigger than you, his fingers nearly towering over yours and they’re always so snug and warm.
“Well, it’s true,” he says. “You’re the kinda girl songs are written about.”
“Unless I’m mistaken,” You say in a matter-of-fact tone, “you have written songs about me.”
He feigns a look of doubt, though a smile threatens to tug at his mouth, especially when you delicately lace your fingers with his one-by-one. “Ah, is that what you think, baby girl? Don’t let the fame get to your head.”
You laugh, dropping your head and leaning your temple against his knuckles in an attempt to hide your sheepish face. With his free hand, he sets his guitar back onto the floor and then unravels his other hand from yours. His palm is calloused and hot as it slides onto your cheek, and you nuzzle into it even despite him guiding your face back up to look at him. He can’t help himself; he leans in to kiss you, biting at your lower lip and earning a delicious moan. As his hands come to grip at your sides just over your ribs and the underside of your breasts do you crawl into his lap to straddle him. For a while, he lets himself get carried away, feeling your hands roam his chest, but then with such vivid intensity, he can only imagine Namjoon and Taehyung in the same position as him and it almost makes him want to vomit. Either that, or it’s the alcohol. Gathering his wits, he shakes his head, pulling apart from you.
“I think I should write━” He fumbles uselessly with his words. “Namjoon’s gonna kill me if I don’t finish these songs━”
You arch your chest against his, warm and soft and palpable, and your hips dig into his a little more roughly, rubbing against his straining erection. You can be heard whining sluggishly as you kiss the underside of his jaw, “But I want you inside me, Kook.”
His breath hitches in his throat, but he can’t think straight anymore. Is the scent he smelling even you anymore, or just a mix of Namjoon and Taehyung? And when you tell him he’s the only one who can ever make you feel the way he does, do you tell that to them too?
His silence is answer enough, and is what ultimately forces you to look up at him. You’re met with an empty expression, then your own countenance is contorting. You sit back on his lap.
“I don’t understand you anymore, Jungkook,” You say. There it is, he laments to himself. The familiar pang to his chest, the dreaded realization that maybe he’s fucked this whole thing up forever. “It’s like sometimes you can’t get enough of me, touching me here and there and just before shows when you’re supposed to be on in ten minutes, telling me that no one will care if you’re late. Then sometimes it’s like you won’t even look at me. Like you can’t get me off of you fast enough; like you can’t even touch me anymore.”
Jungkook avoids your stare, which he knows is exactly the sort of thing he shouldn’t do. But you already have your answer. You clamber off of his lap at once to slide back onto the bed and he wants nothing more than to pull you back but he knows he shouldn’t. Now, you seem flustered, or maybe just disheartened. Your arms come to cross over your bare chest, as if to hide yourself.
“You don’t want to touch me anymore,” You say dryly.
It’s not a question so much as it is a statement. Either way, he shakes his head. Rubbing a tired hand over his face, he mumbles, “Maybe you should go.”
You clamp your mouth shut. “You’re not serious, Jungkook.”
He still doesn’t dare to meet your gaze, his jaw set hard in place.
“You’re kicking me out? Now? Now?”
“I’m not. I’m just━ Not in the mood tonight.”
“What a liar,” You gasp. “I had your stupid boner poking my ass the entire time we were at the club, and you sure as hell spent the better part of the night fucking me.”
He can’t quite tell if you’re mad. Your tone dances a fine line between incredulousness and amusement, though he assumes it all boils down to disappointment in the end anyway. You refuse to move, though, pushing yourself onto your knees beside him.
“Tell me the truth, Jungkook,” You plead carefully. “Something’s wrong. Has been for a while, and I want to know what it is.”
He takes a deep breath and finally meets your stare and, god, you look irresistible. Your lips are bruised red from him biting and sucking at them, and your exposed chest is too tempting, beckoning him to touch you. His mind is a whirlwind of emotions ━ plus, he’s just a little bit tipsy, and so he blames it on that for caving into you so easily.
He grimaces. “I’m jealous, all right?”
You don’t respond at first, and he decides he wants to curl up into a hole and die. Then, you snort, which isn’t exactly the sort of reaction he was expecting to hear from you, and suddenly you don’t seem so angry at him anymore. “I knew that. Was wondering when you’d tell me, though.”
“You what?”
“Well, it’s not that hard to see. You’re always giving Namjoon and Taehyung death glares when I’m around.”
“I didn’t think I was that obvious.” He says this sheepishly, and at least you giggle at him. “I just━ I’m selfish. I want you to myself.”
“I’m not a thing to have,” You retort.
“I know,” he says, and then groans the words again. “Fuck, I know. I’m sorry. I know you’re not a thing to have, and you’re not mine to have but, god, I hate it that they know everything about what it feels like to be with you.”
Gently, he grabs at your waist, tugging you onto his lap, rough hands spreading your thighs to sit perfectly on him once more. Then, with his hands planted on your hips, does he guide you back and forth on him slowly. He reaches out to brush his fingers along your bare arms, then across your collarbones, and down to your breasts. He leans down as if to kiss the valley between them, but his mouth never really does meet your skin; instead, his lips graze faintly against you.
“That they know your body.” He brushes his nose against your chest as he lifts his head. His mouth ghosts across your breasts, almost catching your nipples in his mouth, his breath warm and tingly against the sensitive flesh, just to tease you. His hand follows his lips, grasping firmly at the underside of your breast, his thumb flicking over the perked bud. “Have touched it where I’ve touched it.”
Your own hands flail out to grasp at his shoulders, your breath hitching in your throat. “Why? Why do you hate it so much? That’s all I want to know.”
“Because they don’t even know how lucky they are,” he mutters. “Because you probably do all sorts of things for them and they just think you’re another groupie. Because they aren’t in love with you.”
“You’re in love with me?” Your face is hot now, your body trembling. His hands are still on your chest when he starts kissing your throat.
“Yeah. I am.”
“What if I told you I’m in love with you too?”
“Well, you are fucking my band mates. I think that makes things a tad bit complicated.”
“You’re such an idiot.” You’re certain if he wasn’t making you feel like heaven in that moment, you would have snapped the words. Instead, you’re already shamelessly grinding your hips against his even without his guidance. “I called it off with them a while ago, actually. They were okay with it, too. Said they felt something was different. You’re the only one in my life, Jungkook.”
Jungkook stops suddenly. He pulls his head back to gawk at you and is greeted to your hooded eyes watching him. “You━ What? What about this morning when you said Namjoon wanted to see you?”
“I lied,” You admit timidly.
“And when you were in his room━”
“We never did anything,” You promise. “I just wanted to see a reaction from you. Honestly, so did Taehyung and Namjoon. I mean, Namjoon purposely told me to come to his room to see if you’d be jealous. And I think I went along with it because I really just want to know that when you ask me to stay with you, in your bed, do you really mean it? I just…” You trail off, biting at your lower lip, asking him apprehensively, “What about you and that Mina girl?”
“I haven’t seen her or talked to her in months,” he says earnestly.
“Of course not.” You say this in a breathless laughing manner, as if it’s just now dawning on you. Then, you reach up to cradle his head in your hands, grasping at either side of his face. When you speak next, your voice is an ardent whisper. “I want to be with you, Kook. Like really, really be with you. I didn’t know how to tell you because we were so used to just having sex and nothing more and I figured if that’s all I could get with you, then I’d learn to live with it even if it’d kill me to hear you hooking up with other girls.”
Jungkook blinks. He takes a moment to comprehend what’s happening, but then he’s feeling that tension in his chest loosen and he’s just so relieved.
“There’s only you,” he says. “Has been for a while.”
You smile, so big and soft and pretty, and he kisses you just to bask in the moment. Suddenly, he’s just overwhelmed with love for you and almost doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“Maybe I should get you jealous more often,” You muse pensively. “It’s kinda hot.”
“It’s mean,” he pouts. Then, his demeanour changes and he’s smirking wolfishly. “Besides, they can’t fuck you like I can, can they?”
“N-No,” You croak feebly. “It’s always been you, Jungkook. Even with them. I’d never tell them but… you’re all I could think about even when I was with them. Imagining you touching me instead of them. Imagining it was you when they laid with me.”
This seems to grab his attention, having him groaning into your neck. “What’d I say? Gonna be the death of me.”
You shiver at the sound of his hoarse voice. You whisper aloud, “The feeling is mutual.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so stupid lately,” he says. “Let me make it up to you. Do you want that, baby girl? But first you gotta show me you mean it. That you’re mine.”
As he tongues a pattern against your throat, you muster a nod. You wonder if it’s obvious how badly you want him in that moment, with the way your hips continue to grind against his.
“I want you to fuck yourself on my thigh,” he murmurs against you. “Can you do that for me?”
The thought entices you and has you scrambling to nod your head again. His large hands come to grab at your ass, shifting you until you’re seated on one of his legs. Your eyes never stray from his as you start to grind against his thigh, the rough material of his sweatpants rubbing at your core. Slow and steady, he guides you back and forth, watching as your pretty mouth pops open into a silent gasp.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he coos. “God, you look so pretty. And you’re all mine. Touch yourself for me.”
“Where?” You ask breathlessly.
“All over. Anywhere you want me.”
You whimper at the thought, imagining the feeling of his rough hands on your body. You start at your chest, grasping at your own breasts, squeezing at your perked nipples. You pinch them until they’re hard under your fingertips, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts with your palm as you try to picture Jungkook doing the same. Then, you slide one hand down the front of your stomach, past your navel. He watches as you dip lower and lower before finally reaching between your legs, fingers rubbing small circles against your clit. The mingling feelings of you rutting your hips against his thigh and the way you touch yourself under his burning stare has you writhing on his lap within seconds.
“Oh, Jungkook━” Your eyes clamp shut, brows knitting in concentration. “Wanna feel you so bad━”
“Uh uh,” he tuts at once. Grabbing at your chin, he yanks your head back up in his direction and taps his thumb against your jaw. “Keep your eyes on me. I want to see how I make you feel.”
“But it feels so good,” You whine. Still, you listen, prying your eyes open just slightly enough to meet his stare again. Now, you’ve started to grind a little harder on him, rubbing at your heat a little faster. “Please, Jungkook━”
“Cum for me first,” he coos, his tone gentle despite his obvious demands. “Then I’ll do whatever you want. You can do that for me, right?”
You muster a nod, eyes threatening to flutter shut again but you refrain. He moves one of his arms to wrap around your waist, his large hard encompassing almost all of your back as he pushes you closer to him and the action alone is enough to make you hum with delight.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he says. “The things they could never do for you.”
He doesn’t say Taehyung’s or Namjoon’s names for you to understand and, truthfully, you’re glad he doesn’t. Your mind is much too focused on Jungkook to care about anyone else.
“I want you━” You cry out suddenly, biting at your lip. “I want you to touch me, anywhere. I want you to use me, and make me yours. I want you in me. I just need your dick, Jungkook, please. You always make me feel so good. Please, please touch me━”
His jaw sets hard in place as he continues to watch you, fingers itching to please you however which way you want, but he waits. He knows you’re close to your high when you start whimpering and moaning his name, your hand falling from your chest as your other hand rubs harder at your clit the faster you ride his thigh. He flexes his muscle beneath your core, and the simple action is enough to have your head spinning. As you reach your high, his hand that is still wrapped around your chin slides upward and his two forefingers poke into your mouth. Instantly, you’re sucking against them, tongue laving at his digits desperately as you imagine his cock in your mouth, in your cunt, stretching you wide.
“God, you’re such a good girl,” he grunts. “Keep your eyes on me.”
As you unravel in his arms, body twitching into his chest, his arm tightens its hold around your back and envelopes you in his warmth so much to the point where it feels as if you begin to melt against him. You grab at his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth until you almost gag, muffled moans meeting his ear as you climax. When you’re spent, your pace on his thigh slows to a steady occasional gyrating of your hips as you suck and lav at his fingertips.
“That’s it, baby girl,” Jungkook hums, his free hand stroking your back as you calm your nerves. When you’ve regained most of your wit, you pop Jungkook’s fingers from your mouth and he takes the liberty of guiding his palm down your chin to your throat to your breasts. “You’re doing so well for me. Bet you never listened as well to them as you do with me. Will you get on your hands and knees for me?”
You scramble to obey, crawling off his lap and onto all fours on the bed. You crane your neck to watch as he gets to his knees behind you, shoving the material of his sweatpants down to his knees in haste. He’s already impossibly hard, grasped in his knuckles, precum leaking from the head of his dick. He wastes no time in pushing himself into you, and though he’s stretched you wide hours ago, the same feeling of him slipping in snug to your heat does wonders on your body still.
“Mm, Jungkook!” You cry out as he buries himself balls deep into you, coaxed so easily by your slick arousal. He sputters at the sensation, palms pawing at your navel as he yanks you further down his cock. “F-Fuck━ You feel so good━”
“Show me,” he gasps, pulling his hips out once and rutting into you so vigorously you feel it shudder throughout your whole body. Then, he’s thrusting into you at a rhythmic fast pace that has you clenching so tight around him, his head spins some more. “Let me hear you. I wanna see how I make you feel. Let me see how you belong to me.”
He tugs at your elbows, yanking you up off the bed, and you clumsily follow suit, pressing your back flushed against his chest.
“I’m all yours, Jungkook,” You whine. “I want you to wreck me so bad. Only you know how to wreck me so bad.”
“Yeah?” he taunts. “Only me? Gonna prove it?”
“Please, Jungkook━ Harder, please━ I’ll do anything you want!”
He quickens his pace and slams his hips up into yours harshly. It has you moaning with delight, nearly slipping from his grasp, but he holds you tighter in place. He reaches round to grab at your chin again, twisting your head in a careful yet prompt manner so that you’re looking over your shoulder at him with your flustered gawking expression.
“Open up.” He taps at your mouth and you do as you’re told. Almost instantly, he pulls your chin closer until your mouth is hovering over his, and spits. It’s a wordless command and gesture, as if to further prompt you to prove your point. You welcome it entirely, swallowing his own saliva completely. What doesn’t make it into your mouth, dribbles down your chin and onto your throat. Then you’re chasing his mouth, hearing him hum approvingly, “That’s it, baby.”
You almost miss his lips the first time from the way he’s being so feral now as his hips continue to slam against yours. You’re fortunate when he guides your chin, still pinched between his fingers, in a much too tender manner for the crude moment that has your heart swooning despite all the hysteria. A hot open-mouthed kiss which is still entirely sloppy as your tongues ravish mid-air, and his teeth nip and suck on your lower lip any chance he can get.
“Gonna tell them how well I fuck you?” he asks breathlessly. You bite at his lip this time, tugging at it hard. “Let them know you’re all mine? Fuck━”
“Mhm!” You rasp. “Oh, Jungkook━”
By now, his pace is relentless. You threaten to ricochet from his grip with each rut of his hips, knees wobbling beneath you. He hand falls from your chin finally to grab at your breasts, replacing your earlier efforts, pinching at your nipples, squeeze at your soft flesh. He lavs wet kisses along your jawline, your neck, and shoulder. Your own head leans back onto his shoulder, a hand reaching out to grasp at his hair. Your fingers first scratch at the shaved sides, then thread through his hair, yanking at it tightly enough to have him grunting in delight.
“Jungkook, I’m gonna━” You whimper. “I’m gonna━”
But you don’t finish your thought. It doesn’t matter anyway. Jungkook already knows you’re close to your high with the way you start to clench around him. You pull even tighter at his hair, a pleasant burn evoking a hiss from his throat. His hips move even faster than before, desperate to try and carry you to your high. So riddled from your first orgasm not long ago and the one before that, you’re quick to crumble beneath him once more. Twisting and turning, you cry out his name in a repeated mantra, like music to his ears. When the scorching heat between your thighs and blinding your eyes subsides enough for you to be somewhat coherent again, you meekly find your voice.
“Tell me I’m yours,” You beg despairingly, voice barely a ragged panting whisper. The aftershock of your orgasm still shakes through your body that the way you’re clutching at his hair now is only so that you can still have some sort of hold on reality still. “Please, please. Tell me. I wanna be yours so bad. You already have me, just wanna hear it from you. Tell me you want me as much as I want you. Please, Jungkook━”
A nerve flutters in Jungkook’s heart. And his dick. He marvels momentarily at the idea of how he wants to continue to wreck you and simultaneously love you all over and grows impatient. Without warning, and with much difficulty, he pulls out of you. Before you can register what’s happening or miss the warmth of his cock in your heat, he pushes you onto the bed and flips you around so that you’re on your back. Then, hovering over you close enough so that he can hook one of your legs over his shoulder, he pushes himself back into you.
“You’re all I want,” he says, smoothing his mouth over yours once more. He moans against your lips, then rests his forehead against yours as he squeezes his eyes shut. “God, I’m so fucking in love with you. You make it so hard to think sometimes. Everything about you drives me wild.”
His pace isn’t as harsh as before, though he’s careless as he abandons all form in an attempt to ride out your high and reach his own. Each thrust he makes jolts you back and forth on the bed, the sensitivity between your thighs a mild burn that starts to crescendo as you gasp each time his cock slides back into you. You reach out tiredly to grab at his face with soft motions despite not bothering to move him from where he still rests with his forehead. One large palm of his comes to grasp at your side, pushing you further into the mattress as he hammers into you.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum━” He moans. “Gonna let me fill you up, baby? Gonna let me make your cunt mine?”
“Yes, please,” You rasp. “Wanna feel it so bad.”
It’s different this time despite knowing the sensation well enough from all those times before. Every event since then has been a build up to this, and when he finally releases into you, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The last few sluggish ruts of his hips make the both of you whimper and whine, mewling with delight the longer he cums in your heat.
Then, he slumps against your chest and the room falls silent once more safe for the sound of your mingled panting. He burrows his face into the crook of your neck and your fingers rake through his sweaty hair in a soothing manner until that too ceases after a few silent moments.
“Not falling asleep on me now, are you?” he asks after the thrill of both your highs have subsided. He lifts his head to look at you and finds that you are, in fact, beginning to doze off.
“No,” You lie. You pry one eye open to look at him as you bite back a sheepish snicker. He pulls out of you at long last, and the lack of warmth has you immediately protesting. You reach out blindly for him before he can move too far. “Come back here. I want to cuddle you.” Then, letting your surroundings register once more, you realize suddenly that music has still been playing all this time. Most specifically, Jungkook’s solo which has been left on a loop. You meet his curious gaze in the dark and deadpan, “Did you seriously just fuck me to your song?”
“It’s not fucking when we were making love,” he wriggles his brows suggestively. You wonder how he’s always so quick to go from one extreme to the other. Whereas five minutes ago, you wanted nothing more than to have him demolish you with his dick, now he’s just his usual lovable idiotic self that you want to kiss all over. He’s not wrong though, you discern. The song isn’t a bad one either, and the thought of him having sex with you to his own music is undescriably hot anyway.
“You can’t say you were making love to me when you just took me raw.” Amongst other things, you think to yourself, but you’re certain he’s well aware of that. His snickers warm your heart to no end and you can’t help yourself when you lean forward to kiss him.
“I can and I will because I love you,” he says proudly. Then, as if tasting the words on his tongue and favouring the sound of it, hums more pensively again, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Jungkook.”
And this time he knows you mean it because, in the morning, when you both wake up feeling sore and marked all over by one another (so that Namjoon and Taehyung can know), you’re still curled up into Jungkook’s chest. You’re half asleep, your nose nuzzling against the crook of his neck and making him smile. You’re only roused awake by the feather-light strokes his fingers make as they rub small circles into your back.
“Stay with me?” Jungkook asks this hopefully, of course, but he already knows the answer. This time, he even knows it’ll be different.
He sees your sleepy smile widen when he kisses your temple sweetly, and decides quickly that he likes this, right there and now, as it is, and especially when he hears you whisper finally, “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
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10 Years (Jungkook x Reader) (10 Seconds Part 3)
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Word Count: 14.4k
Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Manipulation, Murder, scenes of Domestic Abuse, Mentions of Past Trauma, Mentions of Past Domestic Abuse, Mentions of Torture (not depicted), Cult Like Activity, Forced Relationships, Smut, Blood (lots of it), Fear, Contraception
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: He was made for sunset, his skin was practically glowing in the golden filter of light. You had never wished more in your life that he hadn’t met you the way he did. The more time you spent with him the more you wondered what it would have been like if he had talked to you that first day of classes. Would he have still gone this far? Those were dangerous thoughts to be thinking, but when he was this gentle with you it was hard to stop the prick of tears at the corners of your eyes. He confused you so much, and you knew what this was. Acting can sometimes feel more real than it truly is.
A/N: SURPRISE! HAPPY HALLOWEEN BABIES! Just for you, here is part three! I spent a whole week dedicating hours to write it so I could have a treat ready for you this Halloween! To date, this is my favorite chapter and I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did!
Read Part Here (1) // Read Part Here (2) // Read Part Here (4)
You had pissed him off, that much was obvious. His fingers were still curled into the fabric of your underwear, one flex away from ripping them off. His jaw was tense and his cheeks hallowed in irritation as he fixed you with his intense glare. Jungkook was many things to you, the number one being your source of immeasurable fear. In that moment though, your glare was just as harsh; you were just as angry as he was but for far different reasons.
You were angry, but you also weren’t stupid. You knew that this could go one of two ways. You could fight back and piss him off further resulting in another punishment or him taking you anyways. Or you could play his game.
For once, you thanked God that you were such a fucking crybaby because letting all your pent up feelings out was going to be good for what you were going to do next. Your lips trembled as your eyes watered, brimming with tears that threatened to wet your flushed cheeks. You clenched your eyes shut as a choked cry left your lips, your hand coming up to harshly smack his chest.
“You don’t really love me!” You cried, trying to roll onto your side and away from him while curling your hands into your near naked chest.
There was a pause of silence between the two of you, his confusion palpable. You pulled your legs free from him and curled up into a ball, loud sobs leaving your chest that sounded more animal than human. As your cries grew louder he finally snapped out of shock, his hands desperately reaching for you as you shrunk away from his touch.
“Baby, baby!” He called, his voice sounding more hurt each time you rejected him; shrinking into yourself further. “Of course I love you, how couldn’t I?”
“No!” You yelled, sounding more like a petulant child than a scorned lover. “All you want is to use me, you don’t care about me!” You cried dramatically, turning onto your stomach so you could bury your face in your forearms.
It was like all of the events you had endured were becoming fuel for you, each horrible thing he had done to you spurring tears upon tears to help your performance. You would make him believe you, you had to if it would buy you some time.
“That’s not true! I love you more than anything, I just wanted to show you how much I love you, baby.” He said, his hands sliding over your waist and under your stomach to turn you over to face him. Your eyes remained clenched shut as he rolled you over, your face wet and hot from the tantrum you had thrown. You almost had him, you could feel him walking straight into your trap. You had him right where you wanted him.
“You don’t care,” You sobbed, shaking your head. “You only want to have sex with me. You don’t even care about what I want.” You sniffled, bringing your shaking hands up to cover your tear streaked face.
“Fuck, that’s far from the truth. Please tell me what you want, baby. Please, I’ll do anything for you.” He whispered, his much lager hands gently curling around your smaller wrists and prying them from your face so he could catch a glimpse of you.
Your heart pounded harder at his words, your first thoughts heading towards your freedom. But you quickly stunted that thought, you knew when he said “anything” he meant “anything but that.” You would have to make do with what you had, and your first mission was to keep yourself untouched by him.
He brought your hand up to his face, pressing light kisses to each finger as soft pleas fell from his lips. He really was at your mercy, intoxicated by your scent, touch, and doe eyes. All it took was a few tears to have him like this for you. But you still knew better, you knew there was a beast lurking beneath the surface of those innocent round eyes and bunny-like smiles. You wouldn’t be fooled by him.
“I-” You began, a hiccup breaking your voice. “I want to save myself for marriage, I always have.” You said, forcing yourself to remain still as he ceased pressing kisses to your knuckles only stopping to raise your hand to cup the smooth flesh of his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut as leaned into your palm, breathing in your scent just by your pulse.
“So, you’re my good girl then? No one else has touched you?” He asked, long lashes still grazing the dips beneath his eyes.
You nodded in affirmation only to realize he still couldn’t see you. “Yes, no one has.” You agreed.
A sigh of relief had him falling limp against you, removing your hand from his cheek so he could press a kiss to the center of your palm. His demeanor had shifted so quickly even you were surprised. He gently looped his arms beneath your waist and dragged the two of you up into a sitting position, sliding you onto his lap with ease and pressing your chest to his own. It was horrifyingly intimate, the feeling of his bare chest flush against your barely clothed one. He was warm and strong and would have been comforting had the circumstances been different.
That was something you thought often: had the circumstances been different. But they weren’t. Jungkook was as selfish as he was lonely, and because of that he was delusional and overbearing. Sometimes his presence closed in so tightly on your own you felt as if you couldn’t get a single breath in. And because of that, you longed to be miles away from him. He was suffocating you so slowly and ever so painfully.
His fingers wove themselves into your hair, guiding you to rest your head on his shoulder as he held you close. “I'll wait for you, and only for you.”
Hook, line, and sinker.
He held you to his chest for a while and nothing was said between the two of you. There was only the steady rise and fall of your chests against one another while his fingers carded through your hair. Your eyes had fluttered shut yet your body was still tense, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be touched in this way. But you knew you could never fully let your guard down around him, he was far too unpredictable. But all that time spent with him had been in your favor, now you knew what made him tick. And you were going to exploit that.
Jungkook pulled you away from his body, his eyes tracing your face. He gently cupped your face in his hands and pressed a delicate kiss, so light it was barely there, to your lips. You could feel him sigh against your lower lip before he reluctantly pulled away. He had to prove to you now that he wasn’t solely after your body, although that was an added benefit for him. He could wait, just for a little while longer.
He leaned over the side of the bed and scooped up his previously abandoned shirt, guiding your arms through the sleeves and pulling the collar down over your head. He couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of your head popping up and out of the shirt, your figure drowning in his clothes. His eyes strayed, following where the hem of his shirt laid at the tops of your thighs. You were so tempting, it was no wonder you thought he was only after your body.
Before he could get too distracted he leaned over you and yanked the chain of the lamp, effectively drowning the two of you in a deep pool of darkness. You froze for a moment, your heart thudding as you lost sight of him and what he was doing. You couldn’t see him, but you could still definitely feel him. His strong arms had already curled around your waist, yanking you down on top of him. You yelped in fear as you once more collided with his chest. The man was like a fucking brick wall. You could feel the ginger brush of his fingers around your wrist, guiding your hand to rest on his bare chest as he tucked your head into the crook of his neck. You were sure if anyone were to walk in you would look like lovers. How far from the truth they would be.
You were shaking now, the reality of what has almost happened finding you in the seclusion of the dark. But you had to remind yourself, you had outsmarted him this time. You were finally beginning to understand the game: fake it til you make it. If you could play along for long enough then you could find your way out of here. And you were more determined than ever.
“You cold, baby?” Jungkook asked, breaking the silence first. He must have felt you shaking.
You nodded in response, trying to play off what you were actually feeling. Fear. Jungkook grasped the edge of the blanket and pulled it up higher, pressing the two of you together beneath the warmth of the covers. You closed your eyes once more, and this time you tried to pretend he was someone else. Anyone else. It was much harder than anticipated, you knew his scent, his touch, and his form. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get rid of him.
But you would try.
You could feel sleep coming for you, the crash of emotions you had survived finally taking their toll on you once more.
You had made it 10 days, how much longer would you have to last?
“Baby,” Jungkook hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”
Long enough to escape, that was for sure.
~~~~~~~
The next day, things already seemed to be so different. To say you were surprised was an understatement. The ten days of hell you had endured with Jungkook could have been a dream for all you knew. He still was the same way you remembered him to be, clingy, whiny, and overbearingly affectionate. But for the duration of that day, nothing he did had the same sexual undertone you had dealt with for the past ten days.
You were relieved, it seemed like you were finally getting a hold of your horrible situation. Well, for now at least. Jungkook was going to be far easier to fool than his father. And you couldn’t lie, his father terrified you to no end. He had trained Jungkook’s mother into absolute obedience with his unrelenting and ruthless nature. You were sure that if anyone was going to be able to spot your fakery from a mile away, it was going to be him without a doubt. So you had one choice, you were going to have to sell it good.
And that meant having to do things you really didn’t want to do.
Very quickly, you found yourself taking on the role of a traditional housewife. Jungkook had made it clear before that that was something he didn’t expect from you. All he wanted was you, or so he claimed. He said that he liked doing things together, he didn’t want you being forced into the traditional role you never truly wanted. But you knew what his father expected, and if you were going to win this game you were going to have to sacrifice a few of your pieces.
And you also knew that if you could keep this charade up for long enough, you could fool them all. It was only a matter of time, and you were willing to give up a few days, weeks, or months to find your freedom again. And if that meant making meals with Jungkook’s mother, cleaning the house, and folding fucking laundry you would do it all with a smile.
Days were passing faster and melting into weeks, and at this point you couldn’t really tell how long you had been missing. You wondered if your family was looking for you, if your friends missed you, or if everyone assumed you were dead in a ditch at this point, your flesh melting away and returning to the earth from which it came from. Sometimes, you even wondered if that would have been better. To have been discarded and left to disappear if it meant you didn’t have to pretend to be something you weren’t and if it meant that you wouldn’t have to live in fear of being punished for a misstep or cower under the sharp glare of Jungkook’s father. But you were determined, fucking terrified but so determined to make it out of this alive.
The call of your name pulled you from the lull of your thoughts. You shook your head to clear you from your daze. Your hands were plunged under warm soapy water, a plate held in your motionless hands.
“There you are, I thought I lost you for a moment.” Jungkook’s mother giggled, her small hands delicately drying the plate in her grasp.
You gave her a gentle smile in response, lifting the plate from the water and giving it one more rinse before handing it over to her. There was one upside to this endeavor, you had someone you could call a friend. You liked her, it was hard not to with all of the time you spent together. Her warm, motherly nature was comforting in a place like this. And it made you miss your own mom even more.
“Jungkook seems happier lately.” She mused, gazing out of the window above the sink. You followed her line of sight, seeing Jungkook and his father outside on the back deck with the red flare of a cigarette tucked between his father’s lips.
She wasn’t wrong, ever since you had started playing along he seemed more relaxed, happier even. Even now a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he listened to whatever his father was saying. But you could tell he wasn’t really listening, his eyes had that far off look to them like he was somewhere else entirely.
“I guess I have you to thank for that,” She said softly, setting down the freshly dried plate to turn and look at you. “I’ve never seen him so happy before. Jungkook was always a quiet child, he kept to himself for the most part. But you bring out parts of him I rarely got to see.” She smiled.
Yeah, the depraved parts are what you brought out. You let out a gentle sigh, welcoming the faux smile you had grown accustomed to to settle on your lips. “I wish we could have met on different terms.”
That wasn’t a total lie.
“I know, sweetie. The first couple years are always the hardest.” She replied, lightly resting her hands on the tops of your shoulders with a tender smile. “It just takes some time for people like us, outsiders, to get used to their way of life.”
This wasn’t the first time she had told you this and it most definitely wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes you forgot she wasn’t just a mother, she was a person who has been brainwashed so meticulously you had no doubt all of the work that had been done on her had no way of coming unraveled. And you would be damned if you were going to let that happen to you too. You liked her a lot, and she liked you too. But you had no doubt in your mind that if it came down to it, she would never help you escape. Most likely, she would turn you over to her husband and son. You couldn’t trust anyone, not even the person who had once been like you.
“I hope so.” You lied through your smile, gently squeezing her wrist in affirmation. Ever since you had stopped crying, it had become easier to lie.
The sliding glass door off of the kitchen slid open with a click, the scent of cigarette smoke wafting into the kitchen. Jungkook’s father stood in the doorframe, peering into the kitchen and settling his gaze on you and his wife. He fixed you with a stern look, the look in his eyes practically freezing you to your spot like a deer in headlights.
The only ones you were fooling were Jungkook and his mother. That much was obvious.
“Baby!” Jungkook called, his bunny smile and doe eyes catching your attention from behind his father's shoulder where he was standing on the porch.
He looked so relaxed compared to the first few weeks you had spent with him. Had you already lulled him into the belief that you were finally becoming compliant to his demands? You couldn’t be too sure. He was leaned back against the deck fencing, his elbows propped up behind him on the top of the fence. His one leg was a little stretched out in front of the other one as he looked at you, the golden cast of the setting sun bathing his lithe form. He looked like any other normal guy on vacation at the lake: a pair of ripped jeans tucked into thick boots and an open flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Your eyes lingered over the tattoos that decorated his arm, he really would have been any girl’s dream guy. It was a shame that he had to warp that into a nightmare.
Jungkook’s smile widened eagerly as he motioned for you to join him. Outside.
Your heart began to flutter in your chest, it felt like the wings of a hummingbird thrumming in anticipation as the latch of its cage was lifted. You tried your best to calm yourself, you remembered what happened the last time you had fled into the woods, it had only taken mere moments for him to find you once again. You had not a doubt in your mind that Jungkook knew these forests better than anyone. You couldn’t run, not just yet. You hadn’t fooled everyone. You were sure that a better opportunity would arise.
You took a calming breath and quickly dried your hands off before approaching the door. Jungkook’s father remained in the doorframe, his presence casting a shadow over you. He scared you far more than Jungkook did, and for the first time in your life you were willing to run into the arms of your captor if it meant he would keep you out of the way of his father’s wrath. That was the one thing you were sure of when it came down to it - Jungkook would protect you if he was in love with you like he claimed to be.
Your head was bowed low, your eyes fixed to your bare feet and the tile beneath them. You looked like a rabbit - you remained still like it would stop the curious predator from approaching.
“Don’t try anything if you know what’s good for you.” He whispered lowly, his voice was gravelly and deep in his chest. The smell of smoke wafted under your nose as he stepped to the side, allowing you access to the deck. You flinched from his sudden movement before hurriedly rushing past him and outside.
The fleeting sun felt so good against your skin, your chest heaved as you took in a deep inhale of the fresh air. It felt like layers of clothes and weights had been removed from your body and the oppressive weight of Jungkook’s father’s stare was confined to the inside of the lake house. This was the freest you had felt in weeks, or what had most likely turned into months. Time was escaping you faster and faster every day.
You jolted in surprise, your eyes fluttering open as Jungkook’s fingers grazed the smooth skin of your hand. You hadn’t heard him approach in your moment of euphoria. He looked down at you with a gentle smile and a gleam to his chocolate brown eyes. He was made for sunset, his skin was practically glowing in the golden filter of light. You had never wished more in your life that he hadn’t met you the way he did. The more time you spent with him the more you wondered what it would have been like if he had talked to you that first day of classes. Would he have still gone this far? Those were dangerous thoughts to be thinking, but when he was this gentle with you it was hard to stop the prick of tears at the corners of your eyes. He confused you so much, and you knew what this was. Acting can sometimes feel more real than it truly is. The last thing you wanted was to fall victim to Stockholm syndrome. And you knew you weren’t, he still made you uncomfortable and he had done awful things to you. Thoughts like those could override any one of his sweet, innocent looks. For now. If you didn’t act faster, time would grasp you in it’s clutches.
Jungkook raised his hand to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking the flesh of your cheek as his other hand came to rest on your waist. He looked at you like you were the center of the universe, like nothing else mattered to him anymore. His touch was warm but his gaze was uncomfortable. You didn’t want him to look at you like that, like he was in love with you. Not after everything he had done.
But you also couldn’t deny that there was a part of you that understood him. His father was fucking horrible and he had you, his wife, and his son all under his thumb. Jungkook and his mother were captives just as much as you were. That was the only sympathy you had ever felt for him.
Jungkook’s eyes had slid shut, his large hand encircling your wrist and raising your open palm to his lips to press a light kiss to the center of your hand. That was something he had started doing, but you never dared to ask him about it. You had assumed it was his way of keeping himself together, like he was taking a small hit instead of drowning himself in ecstacy. It was like he was pacing himself with you.
“Walk with me?” He whispered, his eyes slid closed as he breathed in your scent, the two of you encompassed by the light of the setting sun.
“Okay.” You answered softly, trying to keep your legs cemented to where they were before they took flight and had you fleeing the lake house once again.
Jungkook smiled at you again, his fingers hastily lacing yours with his own. His tight grip would be enough to keep you grounded for now.
He led you down the steps until your feet met the soft grass once more. The cuts to your feet had healed and the feeling of the grass between your toes was soothing and comforting. Jungkook’s grip was loosening and allowing him to gently tug you in the direction of the lake. You had only seen it from the windows of the house and just barely when it was illuminated by the moon that night you had tried to flee for the first time. You pushed down the thoughts of escape as your pace began to match his, your hands hanging between the two of you and swaying gently as you approached the little beach at the edge of the large, blue lake.
Your eyebrows began to knit together in confusion as you caught sight of the full stretch of the beach. There looked to be a little porch that began on the grass and stretched over the sandy beach. It had a wooden terrace stretching overtop decorated with fairy lights and was exposed to the sky above. You could see there was a thin air mattress set on top of the deck area covered in various pillows and blankets with a cooler set aside. It was insanely intimate and bordered on romantic. Had he set this up for the two of you?
You shivered in discomfort, unsure of what to do. Maybe you should suggest walking down by the water, you really didn’t want to go over to that “love nest.”
“Arms out.” Jungkook suddenly said, sliding in front of you. You looked at him in confusion until he set his hands on your arms and raised them up by your sides. He wordlessly slid the flannel off his shoulders and began to help you slip the sleeves onto your bare arms. He thought you were cold again. At least you could use that as an excuse during your ploy.
The shirt was big on you which was no surprise at this point. All of his clothes were baggy on you, most of them were baggy on him too. You looked like a child who had gotten into their parents closet. But the look in Jungkook’s eyes spoke volumes. It was a possessive thing, he liked seeing you in his clothes, he liked it when his scent lingered on you. He liked that he had you where he wanted you. Little did he know, you had him where you wanted him as well.
Once he was done fixing his shirt around you he smoothed the collar down and sent a smile your way. “Come on.”
Jungkook tried to walk forward, your grip on his hand stopping him short. He pivoted on his heel, the sand kicking up slightly. “Baby? What’s wrong?”
Your teeth sunk into the flesh of your lower lip as your eyes focused on the sight of a little crab crawling quickly across the surface of the sand. “Can we go over there?” You asked, jerking your head in the direction of the lake.
Jungkook turned, his dark eyes settling on the waves rushing over the shallow drop off of sand. “Hm, not today. It’s pretty cold, I don’t want you to get sick sweetheart.”
“I won't,” You tried once more, your eyes wide and pleading. “Jungkook-”
“We’ll go tomorrow.” He cut you off, his eyes boring into your own. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that this wasn’t up for debate. If he wanted to do something that badly, he was going to do it. He gave your hand a firm tug and pulled you into him, his arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders and tuck you into his side.
You didn’t look at him as you walked, your eyes fixed to the sight of your toes turning over the sand as you walked. But you could feel his stare burning into the side of your head like it always was. Every time you thought just maybe he couldn’t be that bad, he reminded you quickly of what your situation was like. He has the final say in everything, whether he agreed or disagreed with you.
The two of you stepped up onto the little wooden terrace, Jungkook taking a seat on the mattress and pulling you down in between his legs allowing your back to lean up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and set his chin on the top of your head. The sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon of the lake casting an ethereal glow over the water.
You were glad you didn’t miss this sight, you supposed. It was probably the most uplifting thing you had seen in a long while. It wouldn’t be long now before the sun disappeared and it would be dark across the lake. Already the lights strung up above you seemed to be growing stronger as the sun faded away.
You could feel Jungkook’s hand coming up to play with your hair, his touch the most delicate it had ever been. It was so gentle that if you closed your eyes you could pretend it was just the wind ruffling your hair. He spoke your name softly, the hand that had occupied your tresses caressed the length of your arm and settled on the top of your hand. Your brows knitted together in confusion as you felt his other hand flip yours over and settle something in the center of your palm. It was smooth, cold, and metallic to the touch with hard edges.
You dropped your chin and searched for whatever it was he had just given you. He laughed softly, cupping your palm shut so that you couldn’t see.
“Ask me.” He simply said, his eyes aglow with mischief.
“Let me see.” You said, trying to pry your fingers open beneath his hold. It was no use.
“Try again, maybe a little nicer this time.” He teased.
You huffed in frustration, already over whatever he was up too. “Jungkook, give me back my hand, please.” You said, adding more emphasis than needed on the “please.”
He chuckled low in his chest and released his grip on your hand. Without thinking you uncurled your fingers and looked at what he had given you. On sight you felt a wave of nausea roll through your stomach, your heart dropping in your chest.
Sitting delicately on the smooth skin of your palm was an engagement ring.
You couldn’t move, you were frozen in absolute fear. The only thing you could feel was the violent thudding of your heart in your chest and the beginnings of a cold sweat on your neck. You had either played your part too well, or Jungkook was more than aware of what you had been doing. You couldn’t rule out his father either, he was just as likely as having a hand in this.
“I’ve waited for ten years to ask you to marry me, and I can’t imagine a better time than now to finally ask you.”
You were spiralling, you could feel the beginnings of a panic attack coming. Your vision was focusing and unfocusing, the sound of your rapid heartbeats pounding in your eardrums. Were you having a heart attack? It felt like you were having a heart attack. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like your lungs were swelling and cutting off any oxygen that tried to slip into your mouth.
But there was one thing you could focus on, he said ten years. That math didn’t make sense, when the two of you had first met in highschool and that was only four years ago.
“Ten years?” You echoed, the panic clear in your voice. How many more secrets was he harboring?
He hummed in response, his slender fingers picking up the diamond embedded ring from your grasp. You hadn’t realized how tightly you had been holding it until he took it from you, the diamond had made little incisions in your palm that were running with specks of blood.
“I first met you when we were freshmen, but I first saw you when we were little.” He reminisced, a far off look in his eyes as he toyed with the ring. “I just caught a glimpse of you, but that was enough. You were wearing a white sundress and the cutest little butterfly sandals. I remember I asked my mom if you were an angel. She told me no, but I told her that I was going to marry you anyways because you were so pretty. And I kept my promise, didn’t I?
You could feel yourself fading faster than the sun, you were so confused and panicked your body was on the brink of shutting down. You could feel the burn of bile rising up your throat as he lifted your left hand and gently slid the ring down your ring finger.
“You don’t have to say yes, but you can’t say no.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “That’s how it works in my family.”
~~~~~~~
You don’t remember much of what happened before you passed out, but you did wake up wrapped in Jungkook’s arms in his bed under the blankets. And that goddamn ring was still on your finger. And if things weren’t already bad enough, then they were bound to get worse. You were getting “married” in only a few days.
To say that was jarring didn’t even cover half of what you were feeling. Not only was Jungkook trying to keep you bound to him in every way possible, but it was going to happen and fast. You tried to calm yourself by remembering whatever ceremony you were going to go through would not be legally binding. You wouldn’t actually be married in the eyes of the law. The two of you would have to get a marriage license and have it approved with witnesses, and there was no way you wouldn’t get help if you were dragged to a courthouse. Jungkook was persistant but he wasn’t stupid. This would be purely symbolic, and nothing more. But that thought did not drive away your stress or the butterflies in your stomach.
And of course your short days full of trying on various dresses and hairstyles did not help one bit. Jungkook’s mom was excited, her face aglow with pure happiness as she chose dresses on your behalf and made even more decisions regarding the ceremony on your behalf. Apparently, that was tradition. The “outsider” was rarely involved in situations like these, the mother in law and the prospective spouse took care of everything. You were too sick to your stomach to do anything, no matter what you said you knew that Jungkook wouldn’t listen to you. He had waited ten years to propose he said, there was nothing that would stop him from finally getting what he wanted. And once the two of you were “married” you were out of excuses to deny his advances. You were so fucked.
Maybe you should have ran into the woods again when he had taken you out of the house. You should have just thrown caution to the wind and tried again. No, Jungkook would have caught you. You knew that. Maybe it would have been better to lay yourself in the lake and float away into nothingness. But you knew, no matter what you did or where you went Jungkook would follow you to the ends of the earth. He was inescapable, and the thought of that left you with an intense feeling of claustrophobia. Much like the prey you were, he would hunt you down and corner you with no possibilities of escape before going in for the kill.
It still wasn’t time to run yet, you had convinced yourself of that. Now really would be the worst time to flee with the influx of members of Jungkook’s family arriving for the “wedding” that was to take place. Just the thought of that word had your stomach churning in unease.
His family was much larger than you expected and, to your horror, they all were just like him. Every single one of them knew about your predicament, and in fact amongst them were people like you who had been dragged into this life. Amongst the supposed wedding party were kidnappers and victims who were all coming to celebrate another successful hunt and capture of a prize.
It only took five days to gather everyone and everything for the ceremony. It had all been rushed in order to get you to this point where you were once again in the room you had first woken in when Jungkook had taken you. Or, as his mother liked to call it, the bridal suite. The room itself hadn’t changed though, the walls were still that off white color, the barred windows still surrounded my lacy, gauze curtains, and the bedspread was still baby pink, white, and frilly. The only difference was the wedding gown hanging from a hook on the bedroom door.
You ran your fingers through your freshly washed hair, knotting the tresses in your hold and tugging in anxiety. Your leg was bouncing rapidly, how had it gotten to this point? How were you supposed to go out there and do this? You couldn’t. Not when you were about to be surrounded by kidnappers and their pets kept closely to their side.
A knock to the door had you rocking back in surprise, your head jerking up to see who was there. The door remained shut and silence followed suit. You looked on in curiosity until a voice called your name through the door.
“Are you decent, sweetheart?” It was Mrs. Jeon.
“Yes.” You replied, your voice cracking. The shower you had just taken wasn’t enough to hide all of the crying you had been doing all morning. But at least you didn’t have to see Jungkook, that was one upside. He refused to come near you until the ceremony, he was a firm believer that it was bad luck to see you beforehand.
You were grateful.
You heard the click of the lock being undone before you saw the door swing open and Mrs. Jeon pocket the key she held in her hand. She looked happy, far more excited than you had anticipated. She was already done up for the ceremony, a formal dress laid over her figure and her hair twisted into an updo. She was naturally pretty and you could see what resemblance she had to her son. It sent a chill down your spine.
Not much was said between the two of you as she ushered you over to the vanity, gently gripping the tops of your shoulders and guiding you down onto the stool. Her work was done quietly and delicately. And you were so out of it, you didn’t pay much attention. Your eyes were dull and unfocused, staring into the mirror but not processing what you were seeing in the slightest.
“Sweetheart, what I’m going to tell you will be very important so I need you to listen closely.” She hummed, her hands fluttering around your face as she began to lightly apply makeup. “Have you ever been to a wedding?”
Your eyes fluttered closed as she gently applied eyeshadow to your lids. “Yes.”
“Good, then you already know what to expect. But, there are going to be some changes.” She said, tilting your head back with a feather light touch. “During the ceremony, don’t say anything.”
“What?” You asked, your face tensing in confusion. You felt her hands gently tap your cheeks, a silent way of signaling you needed to relax the muscles of your face.
“Jungkook will take care of everything, vows and all. You just need to be there as he does so.” She explained. That made sense in some twisted way. If no part of the ceremony involved you talking, then you couldn’t exactly say no. “The objections will be left out as well.”
How ironic.
“Other than that, things will go exactly how you expect them too. As long as you do your part, everything will be just fine.” She smiled as you opened your eyes once more.
You felt her hands lightly smoothe your freshly styled hair, a fond look gracing her kind features. You felt a strange connection to her, you supposed it had to do with your shared experiences. She was taking on the role of a twisted mentor, imparting some of her “wisdom” onto you to help you as best she could.
The part you were most scared of came next, the dress. You tried your best not to look at yourself as the chiffon and lace slid smoothly over your bare skin. It was cool to the touch, light and airy unlike most dresses you had seen brides wear. By all rights it was stunning, you only wished you didn’t have to wear it if it meant that you would be walking down the aisle towards a man you never dreamt of being yours.
You wore no veil, and for that you were thankful. You couldn’t stand the thought of Jungkook having to lift it from your face like you had seen done before time and time again. Instead, a halo of white carnations and fabric butterflies graced the crown of your head. They were real, their scent fresh and welcoming. A part of you ached at the thought of them withering away, their stems having been sliced apart. They were beautiful, but would only be that way for a fraction of time.
You seated yourself on the edge of the bed, your bare feet gently grazing the silk of the comforter. Your heart was pounding wildly, this was a different type of fear you had never felt before. It was the anxiety of having to provide a performance for all of Jungkook’s family and the knowledge that you couldn’t run.
Mrs. Jeon knelt down to the floor, a soft groan falling from her painted lips as she felt the ache in her knees. She reached a slender arm out underneath the bed, retrieving a white box tied closed with a satin ribbon. You looked on in curiosity as she carefully untied the bow and set the ribbon on the mattress.
“I wore these, Jungkook’s grandmother wore them, and the women before her.” She explained as she tugged the lid of the box free.
Upon seeing what laid inside the box, tears immediately began to prick at the corners of your eyes, your heart pounding wildly against your ribcage. Your shaky hand came up to cup your mouth to stifle any cries that attempted to escape. Held between the soft hands of your captor’s mother was a set of leg cuffs, each cuff meant to be sealed around your ankles that were held together by a length of chain that would prevent you from taking the strides you would need to run. They were treating you like a prisoner.
“I-I can’t put those on,” You choked, “Please, please don’t make me do it.” You sobbed, shuffling away from her as best you could.
“Oh, sweetie.” She cooed, setting them back down into the box and bringing you into her motherly embrace. “It’s only for a short while, I promise they’ll be off by your first dance. And they’re not as heavy as they look and no one will see them under your dress.”
“I don’t want to.” You sniffled as her fingers gently tapped away the tears in an attempt to stop your makeup from running.
“I know, neither did I.” She sighed, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Jungkook thought you didn’t need them but my husband thought it would be for the best.”
You froze at what she said. His father wanted this.
“He’s a man of tradition for sure.” She giggled, rubbing your shoulders in an attempt to relax you. “It’ll be quicker than you think, trust me.”
There was no room for debate, you had learned that quickly with the Jeon family. They always got their way and never took no for an answer. You experienced that first hand. So, all you could do was close your eyes, clench your fists, and tense your jaw as she snapped the cold metal cuffs around each of your ankles.
“See? Not so bad.” She hummed before taking your hand and helping you to stand. “Everyone is waiting on us, it’s best we don’t keep them waiting any longer.”
She guided you out of the room, the sound of the chain connecting your anklets dragging over the wood of the floor sent a cringe to your face. They were loud. From what you knew, the ceremony was to take place outside right in the fringe of the forest. At least there would be grass and maybe then they wouldn’t be as distracting or cacophonous as they were now. At least that was what you hoped, it was like if you pretended they weren’t there maybe they would actually disappear.
You didn’t make it far before you felt that familiar, sharp glare digging into you. His father was already here.
“Now, since your father won’t be able to give you away we’re going to. Isn’t that nice?” Mrs. Jeon smiled, a sharp contrast to the stoic face of her husband.
The thought of having to wrap your arm around his own nauseated you more than anything. Being with Jungkook was like heaven compared to his father. You feared his hold and gaze to the point that you craved Jungkook’s touch. Anything was better than having to be that close to a man so evil.
You didn’t respond, fear having paralyzed your throat. It didn’t matter what you said, it was going to happen anyways. That much you knew to be true.
The three of you linked arms, you in the middle of the parents of your kidnapper. Mrs. Jeon held your left arm gently, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh of your forearm. Mr. Jeon gripped you tightly, his hold unrelenting and harboring a warning. You wouldn’t be surprised if once he released you his fingerprints would be left behind as purple marks to your skin.
As the three of you began to walk and exit the lake house, your inescapability became far more apparent. You could see the large crowd of people waiting for you, their eyes burning into you. From the large group, everyone was lining the aisle with their arms linked like they were creating a chain of people in preparation for you. With a horrifying realization you came to understand what they were doing. They were forming a wall on either side of you, creating a tunnel to walk through that would prevent you from escaping.
They had planned everything out perfectly, years of trial and error and countless “weddings” allowing them to perfect their formula. They knew what they were doing and had no intention of letting you go. They were all sick every single one of them.
And what was most likely the most upsetting sight was the children in the group, even they
joined in on the human paper chain. They were little blank slates, perfect models that were trained from day one on what their way of life would be. You couldn’t help but see Jungkook reflected in their gaze. In your mind you could picture him as a small boy, large brown doe eyes watching a bound bride floating down the aisle in her white dress. It was no wonder he was so fucked up, and evidently those children would grow up just like he did.
This was the first time you thought about fixing Jungkook, as you were walking through the tunnel of people, white petals crushing beneath your feet, and the drag of the chain between your legs like a snake slithering through grass. This was the first time you had even considered that to be a possibility.
Your head lifted as the thought entered your mind, your gaze flicking around until it settled on him at the end of the aisle under an arch of moss and carnations. He was dressed nicely, but not in a tux like many grooms had been. He wore dress pants, held up by a set of suspenders over his shoulders. The top few buttons of his shirt had been left undone and exposed some of the smooth, tan flesh hiding beneath the fabric. He had also rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, his arm of tattoos proudly on display. He looked relaxed despite the excited smile that lit up his face and the gleam of adoration in those dark eyes. Even you couldn’t deny how attractive he looked like that.
A firm squeeze to your arm had your teeth sinking into your lip as the three of you ceased walking, Jungkook mere steps away from you. This was the first time you wanted to run towards him instead of away from him because it meant you would be able to escape his father.
“Behave.” His father whispered just beside your ear, his voice deep in his chest and laced with warning.
Without another word, his hand slipped down your wrist and guided your hand into his sons. And just like that, he and his wife turned and took their seat. And you could finally breathe again. For now.
Jungkook was smiling at you, that familiar bunny like grin gracing his lips. His hands cradled your own, holding them between the two of you. You were sure he thought all of his dreams were coming true. He tense his fingers, giving your hands a firm squeeze of excitement. You had never seen him happier.
You could see an older gentleman beneath the makeshift altar, you assumed he was there to “officiate” the proceedings. You couldn’t help but zone out, the sight before you was distracting. The makeshift wedding his family had created would have been something out of a dream had this all been voluntary on your part. Forest weddings had always appeared to be so beautiful, and now that you were here you couldn’t help but agree. Strands of green moss formed a canopy above the wedding party, delicate vines of white flowers hanging from above and all around you. The aisle you had walked down had been made of moss, grass, ferns, and flat stones littered with white flowers and petals.
It was absolutely breathtaking, and you knew once the sun went down and the fairy lights flickered to life it would be even more stunning.
You were suddenly snapped out of your daze as you felt Jungkook's hand cup the side of your face before leaning down to you and pressing his lips tightly to your own.
You had missed the entire thing.
You could vaguely hear the cheers of his family behind you as he held you close, kissing you surprisingly hard in front of his entire family. You could feel your stomach tightening in anxiety and your face flushing with heat in embarrassment. You felt him pull back for a moment, hot air brushing over your lips before he reconnected with you again, and again, and again until you grasped the fabric of his shirt and pulled him away.
He smiled at you in satisfaction as his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. He was showing off, letting everyone know that you were his and that there was nothing you could do about.
Your heart was in your stomach, the dread piling up as you felt him tugging you back down the aisle. He giggled as you almost tripped, his strides too long for you to keep up with when your gate was impaired by the length of chain connecting your ankles. Without a word he turned and scooped you up in his arms, ironically carrying you bridal style back towards the lake house where the “reception” was to be held.
You turned your head to look over his shoulder, your eyes widening as you watched his family rushing after the two of you in what could have very well been a stampede. Your eyes lingered on a few of the people coming after you, it wasn’t hard to see who was an “outsider” like you. They had that same hopeless hollowness to their eyes, their will having dried up a long time ago. You could feel your heartbeat quickening as you caught sight of one woman. She walked quickly, trying to keep up with the man beside her as she adjusted the infant in her arms. She looked tired and depressed beneath her layer of makeup. You could see the strain of her smile smooth away when her eyes connected with yours. You could see the message she was sending you clear as day without saying a word.
“I’m sorry.”
~~~~~~~
The reception was the most normal part of the wedding and something you were more familiar with. The only change was instead of the garter removal, your leg cuffs were removed. There was a part of you that was glad you were spared the mortifying experience of watching Jungkook’s head disappear under the chiffon of your skirt and feeling his lips drag across the length of your leg as his teeth pulled the garter free from you.
Although, the leg cuffs were just as horrible and embarrassing. You were certain if you didn’t calm yourself down you would be throwing up all over the pristine white dress you wore. You could visualize the pure horror that would spread across Mrs. Jeon’s face.
You were sure that that wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened though. But tonight you had been doing your very best to hide your disdain for everyone there, you still had a part to play regardless of the situation you had been put in. You didn’t have to look happy, you just had to hide your fear to the best of your ability.
That was easier said than done.
It was when Jungkook left you alone with his sister that your facade began to crumble away.
“Jimin, Taehyung!” He yelled, his eyes lighting up as he darted away from the table you were seated at in excitement. You watched him race across the room to the two men he had called for, locking them into a tight embrace.
Your legs twitched, the thought of fleeing always at the back of your mind. Now would be the worst time of all times, who wouldn’t be able to see the only one dressed all in white sprinting into the woods. The last thing you wanted to do was start a hunting trip.
The soft delicate call of your name reminded you that you were still in company. The empty seat that Jungkook once occupied has been filled by the slender form of his sister. She looked just like him, but softer and feminine. She had a gentle smile fixed to her lips that reminded you exactly of her mother. There was not a single bit of her father in her, genetic wise.
“It’s nice to meet you,” She grinned. “All of these years Jungkook wouldn’t shut up about you and he only lets me meet you once you’re getting married, that little punk.”
You bit your lip before you could spit anything back. You could feel the blood leave your face as she spoke. It always disturbed you when you remembered for just how long Jungkook had been waiting for you, watching you, longing for you.
“Hell, he was the first person I introduced to my boyfriend.” She said with a roll of her eyes, “I mean of course I couldn’t take him on my own, he was much too heavy for just me alone.”
Your heart stilled as you slowly turned your head to face her. “Too heavy?” You echoed, hoping she didn’t mean what you thought she did.
“Mhmm, the first time I saw him was at the gym. He was just so much bigger than me I knew I couldn’t take him home on my own. So, I called Jungkook. He made things so much easier, he really is such a good brother to me.” She said with a fond smile, her eyes seeming to glaze as she reminisced.
All this time, you had assumed it was only the men of the family that partook in the kidnappings. But no, it was anyone who was an “insider.” Anyone who was born into the family. That explained how Jungkook had made no mistakes when he took you, he had practice with someone much bigger than you were. You quickly reached for your glass of wine, chugging back as much of it as you could to calm yourself before you slipped into another attack.
“He’s right over there,” She sighed, nodding in his direction. “Jackson and I have been together for about six months now, he’s a tough one to train that's for sure.”
You followed her gaze, your eyes settling on the man that stood mere inches away from her father. He was undeniably handsome, but you could still see the fear etched deep into his face as he stood next to Mr. Jeon. You were confused why he was still there, he was strong so he had to be capable of escape. In fact, you were sure he could take down Jungkook’s father quite easily. That was of course until you realized what his handicap was. You were confused for a moment, it looked like he was wearing a choker perhaps. But, upon further inspection you realized what it was. A collar.
Jungkook’s sister hummed to herself, setting her clutch down on the table next to you before she undid it and pulled out a small remote. “It’s harder for women like us in this family. Subduing guys like Jackson isn’t easy. But one controlled shock works wonders.” She laughed, a sadistic smile curling into her mouth as she stroked the remote.
So, that was the part of her father she inherited.
You could see the horror on Jackson’s face as his dark eyes connected with the remote she held between her dainty fingers. Without her even saying a word he was rushing to her side in fear of her even thinking about pressing a single button on that remote.
You were light headed, the sudden realization of just how horrible this family was allowed the glass of wine to slip from your fingers, the dark red liquid spilling over some of the white carnations that rested in front of you decorating them in jagged, red stripes.
“Baby?” Jungkook’s voice called to you, and for the first time that word was comforting to your ears. In comparison to his sister, you had lucked out when it came to the Jeon siblings.
You sent him a strained smile as you lifted the stem of the wine glass and set it back up right. Your gaze lingered on the stained carnations, a sour thought entering your mind as you realized their purity had been stained, and no amount of cleansing would ever get it back.
“Don’t worry, Jungkook. Your wife and I are going to be best friends.” His sister smiled as her hand curled around Jackson’s.
The two of you looked at one another momentarily, and in his eyes you saw a mutual message.
“Please, help me.”
~~~~~~~
You didn’t know how much more you could take, that was for sure. Everyone there was beyond messed up and sent your heart racing just at the sight of them. You were relieved when the crowd began to drain, leaving only a few people loitering around as the night dragged on.
You had tackled so much in one day, but you knew there was still more to come.
As the last people headed to their cars, Jungkook’s mother grabbed you by your hand and led you into the house, leaving Jungkook and his father and his two friends outside.
You stumbled after her in confusion, shaken up by the pace she had set. She led you back into what had originally been your room and shut the door tightly behind the two of you. She leaned against it with a gentle smile to her face, but you could see something else in her eyes. She was concerned.
“I wanted to give you your wedding present here.” She said softly, crossing the room to the dresser pushed up against the wall.
“I don’t need any presents.” You replied, your teeth gnawing at your lower lip in stress as you thought of what was to come. You knew you couldn’t hold Jungkook back any longer now that you had run out of excuses.
“I think you’ll need this one.” She said, her voice cracking as she slid her hand behind the dresser and pulled something free. She hid the gift behind her back in both hands as she made her way back to you in complete silence.
Without a word, she raised your hand palm facing the ceiling and set a container in your hand. On sight you immediately recognized what it was.
It was birth control.
“What?” You whispered in pure shock, popping it open to make sure it actually was what it appeared to be.
You raised your head and your eyes connected with hers. She wore no smile like you had seen her with so many times. Her face looked tired and her eyes were clearer than you had ever seen them before. For a moment, she seemed normal. She seemed to be just like you. No words passed between the two of you, all you needed was to see the expression you had witnessed twice earlier that day.
“I’m sorry.”
“Please, help me.”
And now, “I understand.”
The four of you were all the same, people who were suffering and couldn’t escape. She understood better than anyone what you were going through, and she wasn’t as broken as she had originally let on. Some of the original her was still there, a soft ember of a fire that had been snuffed out years ago.
No words passed between the two of you, none needed to be.
~~~~~~~
You heard Jungkook enter before you saw him, your back facing him as you were settled on the edge of the bed. You could feel the bed dip as he climbed on, crawling over to you until his arms could wrap around your waist and his chin could rest on your shoulder. You could smell the wine on his breath as he chuckled.
“Hello, Mrs. Jeon.” He mumbled, pressing his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder with a hum.
A chill ran down your spine at his words, they were foreign to you, they just didn’t seem right because you knew them to be false. He raised his head, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw and turn your head to face him. His fingers lightly stroked the skin of your cheek as he leaned in uncomfortably close. You could tell he was buzzed, a lazy smile stretching across his face as his eyes traced every curve and detail of your face. He looked positively enamored.
Without any warning he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your own for a moment before pulling back for a breath and leaning in again, and again, and again.
“I love you.” He whispered against the shape of your lips, his fingers gingerly stroking your cheek as his chest shook with each inhale. It seemed like he could never get used to the feeling of your lips, so warm, soft and wet. How could he not be intoxicated by you?
His tongue gently stroked your lower lip, a whine breaking free from his throat as you kept your lips together, refusing to let him in. Instead of growing frustrated, he let out a soft sigh and pressed another brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, laying a trail of kisses down your cheek and jaw before settling on your neck.
You clenched your jaw, your fingers twisting into his shirt as he began to leave hot, open mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin of your neck, low groans bubbling in his chest from the mere taste of your skin. You could tell how needy he was from the way he harshly sucked purple bruises into your neck, his tongue swiping over each fresh mark with a sweet moan at the end.
“Love you so, so, so much.” He whispered, his fingers trailing behind your back to pluck at the tiny pearl buttons holding your dress together. You tensed up, but you didn’t push him away. He didn’t stop his assault on your neck as you felt each button springing free, the front of your dress becoming looser and looser with each motion.
A soft gasp escaped your lips at one particularly harder suck to your throat causing Jungkook to shudder against you as he heard your light cry. He pressed his forehead against your own for a moment, collecting himself while his hands still tried to unloop the back of your dress.
“I wanted you the moment I saw you walking towards me, you looked so perfect, so beautiful. Just like an angel.” He said, his voice shaking as his lips trembled. “I’ve been waiting all day to have you like this, and it was worth the wait.”
His fingers trailed up the exposed skin of your back, goosebumps raising in their wake. He gently traced the lace of your straps before pulling them down, shimming the delicate fabric free from your torso. His breath caught in chest at the first sight of your bare breasts, the cut of the dress in the back being too low to allow you to wear a bra.
“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, the tips of his fingers ever so lightly tracing the tops of your breasts. He was pacing himself for your sake, but it was becoming harder and harder for him to keep a hold of himself, especially with the ever present tightening of his pants at the back of his mind.
He suddenly pressed his lips back to yours once again, this time more frantically and harder than before. His hands came up to your shoulders, pushing you back down into the mattress beneath you. He was breathing much heavier now, unwilling to part from your lips as he tried to roll the fabric of your dress down your hips without leaving you.
He groaned in frustration against your mouth, pulling back to roughly pull the dress down your body and toss it over his shoulder into the recesses of the room. He sat on his knees, towering above you and staring down at you with a carnal look in his eyes. He hastily began removing his own shirt, his irritation growing as he struggled with each button in his haste.
With a final grunt, he pulled his shirt free and tossed it to join your discarded dress. You froze as your eyes trailed over his naked torso, your heart thundering as your eyes settled on his chest. A fresh clear wrap was sealed against his chest over his heart. You could feel your body tense up as you took in the new ink that had been etched into his skin. He had tattooed your name on his chest.
Jungkook looked back at you in confusion, unsure as to what caused the look of pure fear to seep into the once passive and smooth features of your face. He followed your line of sight ending on the new piece he had.
“Do you like it?” He suddenly smiled.
“I got it as my gift to you. You’ll always be right here,” He said, interlacing your fingers once more and resting your joined hands on top of his heart. “I’ll always love you, my good girl.”
All you could do was clench your eyes shut, it was your only way of taking yourself out of this situation. You could feel his bare chest press against yours, his long fingers tracing over every curve of your body as he shook in excitement. How long he had waited for this moment. To have you in every way possible.
“It’s alright, I know what to do.” He whispered as you jolted from the feeling of his hand grazing the hem of your underwear, “Let me take care of you, sweet girl.”
You shuddered as he slid them down your legs, another article of clothing that was meant to join the floor. You were tensed up tight, your legs clenched shut in anxiety as you felt his gaze burn into every feature of your naked body.
“So perfect,” He hummed, “So beautiful.” He cooed, resting his head on your chest as he rubbed slow circles in your thigh, each stroke sending him closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs.
“Jungkook!” You cried as you felt him force your legs open in one strong pull.
“Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.” He replied before quickly reaching down and stroking the length of your untouched cored. You shrieked at the unfamiliar feeling, clamping your legs closed around his intruding hand.
“Come on, baby.” He said, coaxing your legs open. “I need to get you ready.”
All you could do was lean your head back into the pillows, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your jaw as he continued, his fingers ever so lightly coming up to rub firm circles into your clit. You choked a moan back, thighs trembling as you tried your best not to snap them shut once more.
“So good for me,” He cooed, sucking hickies into the hollow of your collar bone as he pressed his fingers down harder, your hips jerking instinctively up towards the pressure. “So pretty, my wife. Mine.”
He was unrelenting, his tight grip on you sure to reappear as bruises tomorrow morning. He didn’t allow you to hide your desperate whines or shocked gasps from him as he continued to pleasure you, the feeling sending tingles straight from your core all throughout your body. As much as you didn’t want to be with Junhkook, you could admit you were happy he at least knew what a clit was and made this a lot less horrible for you.
You winced at the feeling of his finger gently prodding at your entrance, a thin layer of wetness coating his finger as he pushed in. You jerked and tensed your muscles at the foreign feeling, trying to pull back and away.
“Relax. I need to stretch you out.” He said firmly before leaning down and wrapping his lips around one of your sensitive nipples, your tight walls relaxing at the new feeling. And, without warning, he slipped his finger in and began to stroke deep inside you, parts that your own fingers would not be capable of reaching.
“Fuck!” You cried, tossing your head back as he quickly found that part that made you feel incredibly hot.
“That’s my good girl, fuck.” He groaned into your blushing skin as he thrusted his finger in, grazing that spot that made a new wave of wetness come gushing out.
“Jungkook!” You groaned, your hand coming between the two of you to lay limply at his chest as you twitched in pleasure.
He groaned in response, sucking the hardened peak of your chest harder as he continued pumping his fingers, slowly pressing in a second. You whine at the stretch, shaking as you felt his hips begin rutting against your leg, his mouth popping free from you as a needy whimper leaves his throat.
“I need you so bad, baby.” He whined into your skin, choked groans shaking his chest as he quickened the pace of his hips against your leg and the pace of his fingers strumming against your walls.
He easily, and embarrassingly, slid his fingers free from your heat, a string of your desire following his retreating digits. Without saying anything he quickly brought his fingers to his mouth and began to suck them clean with enthusiasm, his body shaking like he was in ecstasy just from the mere taste.
“So fucking sweet.” He moaned, his hands frantically grasping the hem of his pants, shuffling them and his underwear down in one motion.
You could feel the heat rising to your face at the sight of him, your eyes falling shut once more as your thighs fell closed. He was fucking huge and you didn’t think you could take him. That didn’t really matter now though, did it?
His hands slid down your hips, rubbing small circles in the hallows before he gripped each leg and forced them open and around his slender waist. You kept your eyes clenched shut as you felt him reach in between the two of you, the head of his length brushing against your slick entrance. You were tensing again, anxious for what was to come. You were sure it was going to hurt. You felt his hips push forward and the head of dick just barely slip in as you bared down in fear.
A soft groan escaped him, his head dropping to your throat. “Baby, you gotta relax for me.”
You whined in response, your body still wound up tight. You could feel him sigh into your throat before his hand lightly caressed your leg and made its way back to your core, his fingers returning to rubbing those firm circles into your throbbing clit. Almost immediately, your walls began to flutter around nothing at the sensual touch, your lips parting as you trembled in pleasure. And, before you knew it, he forced himself all the way in in one motion. A sharp cry left your mouth as you flung your arms around his neck, tears pricking in your eyes at the sudden flash of pain that invaded your senses.
Jungkook was shaking above you, his eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy as he forced his hips to remain still.
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip so hard you could taste your own blood on your tongue. You groaned in discomfort, your cheeks feeling wet as a few tears escaped. You felt incredibly full, so full that it hurt.
Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open, and upon seeing the tears streaked down your face he quickly tried to calm you. “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay.” He whispered, pressing kisses to each streak of tears.
“Doing so well for me,” He cooed, his fingers quickly circling around your clit once more to work you through your discomfort with pleasure. “Such a good girl.”
As soon as he felt you begin to relax around him, your hips jerking up into his touch, he began to pull his hips back and slowly slide back in at a frustratingly slow pace. His jaw clenched as he kept himself under control, restraining himself from abandoning all restraint and just railing you like he wanted to.
But, once he felt your hips rolling up into his with that sweet whine of your voice he couldn’t help himself. Before you knew it, his hands were laced with your own and pinned down to the mattress, his pace quickening as higher, breathy moans left his chest, his lips leaving hot, wet, kisses to your neck before he rose his head and connected your lips again.
You moaned into his mouth, surprising yourself at the sounds you were making. His tongue rolled over your lips and without restraint you parted your lips for him. A deep groan left his mouth as he curled his tongue against your own and pumped his length deep into you with a smooth pace. The only sounds filling the room were choked moans and the slap of skin against skin.
You were already getting closer, the prepping he had done earlier bringing you to this point, the knot in your stomach tightening with each brush of the head of his dick against that spot deep inside you. Your legs tightened around his waist, your fingers gripping his own tightly as he filled you so good. Your walls were clamping down tightly around him, the feeling just far better than you had expected it to be.
You could do this, you could use this to your advantage.
One particularly hard thrust had you crying out against the wet, puffy flesh of his lips. You were sure tomorrow both of you would look like a wreck. Jungkook freed his hand from yours, returning to the soft bundle of nerves that begged for his touch. You cried out at the feeling of his length thrusting in and out of your wet core and his dexterous fingers rubbing firmly into you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He rambled, snapping into you harder and harder as he felt your warm walls begin to tremble around him. You were going to cum, he could tell.
“Come on, sweetheart. Show me how good I was, cum all over my cock for me like the good girl I know you are.” He panted into the shell of ear, pressing down harder and fucking into your pliant body faster than before, drawing sharp cries of pleasure from you that you couldn’t keep in any longer.
“Cum for me, please cum for me.” He was practically begging you, you could feel his length twitch inside of you. He was on the edge just like you were, but he wanted you to let go before he did.
And you did. With a loud cry your back arched, pressing your chest up into his own as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. Pleasure shot straight from your core and all throughout every nerve of your body, your walls fluttering helplessly around him. You could feel his thrusts become less paced and more frantic, his eyes clenched shut as he chased his release. And the feeling of you tightening so painfully around him was enough to do him in. With a loud moan he sunk his teeth into your shoulder, his hips working himself into you as he came in spurts, your body flinching at the unfamiliar feeling as you tried to catch your breath.
He whined as he continued to come, filling you up with each pump of his cock. His hips were shuddering with each thrust until he finally fell limp against you.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He mumbled, pressing lazy, wet kisses to your already marked up skin. He still hadn’t removed himself from you and you twitched still from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You feel his cum and his cock still inside you, like he was trying to stop any of it from dripping out.
“I love you, baby.”
~~~~~~~
When you woke up the next day you were incredibly sore and wrapped up in Jungkook’s embrace. You were sweating, you noticed. Even in his sleep his grip was unrelenting, strong, and inescapable.
You had hoped after the wedding his parent’s would have finally left, but that was far from the truth. They were still there, and each week you waited for them to come and tell you and Jungkook that they were ready to go home. You wanted them to leave, but another part of you was still deeply worried for his mother. Her behavior had returned to what you knew, she smiled often, she gushed over her husband, and she coddled her son. There was no sight of the woman you had seen the night of your wedding.
The only reminder you had of your encounter, was the birth control stashed safely behind the dresser in the room that was never used. You snuck in there every day at the same time to take them in secret.
When your period came a few short weeks after your wedding, Jungkook was visibly upset. He didn’t say anything but you knew what he was thinking. He was hoping the various times you had sex between the wedding and your period would have you fall pregnant. He pouted about it, but simply remarked that the two of you would have to try more. He took care of you, bringing you chocolate snacks, heating pads, and plenty of cuddling. Although you never asked for that last part.
You thought you were going to be safe, that this was the one thing you could get away with this time. It only took a few weeks for everything to fall apart.
You were in the shower when the shouting started. You paused for a moment, tilting your head in the direction of the bathroom door. It was a male who was shouting, but over the sound of the water you couldn’t tell who it was. It was the loud shattering that spurred you into action. In seconds you turned the water off and frantically dried your body, throwing on a hoodie and some sweatpants.
You swung the door open and walked and quietly as you could down the hallway. The yelling was coming from the kitchen. You pressed yourself against the wall and peered into the room.
It was Jungkook’s father screaming at his mother. It looked like she had been making dinner, various pots settled on the stove as well as a kettle. There were ceramic shards littering the floor, you could only assume a plate had been thrown.
“Don’t you fucking lie to me, you are the only person in this house who could have done this!” He screamed, slamming down a container onto the counter causing his wife to flinch back in fear.
It was your birth control.
“You really thought I wouldn’t figure it out? It was a little strange that she was going in there every day at the same time wasn’t it?” He asked, his voice deathly calm. His wife didn’t respond, her gaze pinned to the floor.
“Fucking answer me!” He screamed, whipping another plate at the wall right beside her head and shattering it into pieces.
“It was strange.” She echoed, her eyes glazing over.
“Don’t play games with me, I know damn well she didn’t get them, Jungkook didn’t, and neither did I. If you want your punishment to be easier than tell me the goddamn truth right now.” He snapped.
She was already gone, her mind somewhere else as he screamed at her. You couldn’t stop the torrent of tears from rushing down your face as you witnessed her shutting herself off. Years of toture had made her good at dissociating.
The first hit is what broke you. Without thinking you ran right in between the two of them, wrapping your arms around her as the two of you fell to the ground, cries of pain bursting from your mouth at each hit you endured. He was ruthless, his anger quickly being directed at you. Each punch and kick to your body bringing new blossoms of pain. You stayed firm, your body wrapping around hers to stop the torrent of attacks from reaching her. You could do it for her.
You felt fingers weave into your hair, pulling you sharply to the ground and causing you to cry out. You struggled as he began to drag you away from Jungkook’s mother by your wet tresses, he was heading to the deck. You had no doubt in your mind he was going to take you outside, torture you, murder you, and dipose of you.
“Jungkook!” You screamed, thrashing around desperately. “Jungkook! Help!”
You never called out to him for help, never. And that was why he came so quickly. The minute he entered the kitchen his demeanor completely flipped. His eyes settled on his mother, her body laid limp to the floor as she gazed off into nothing. And then he found you, your body being dragged and his father's hand knotted in your hair with marks littering your face. He suddenly reminded you of the Jungkook that took you the first night. His eyes were pitch black and the anger was bubbling just under the surface.
Your head fell as his father released your hair and you quickly began to scoot back and away from him. You settled yourself in the corner, lifted Jungkook’s mother into your embrace and held her tight.
As soon as the two of you were safe, he snapped. He grabbed his father by the neck and threw him to the ground, the two of them devolving into a writhing mass of punches and kicks. You could see instantly that Jungkook was going to win, there were no doubts in your mind about that. He had his father pinned quickly and was beating the ever loving shit out of him.
“How fucking dare you!” He was yelling, his face red as he repeatedly laid into him, each hit becoming more brutal than the one before. “How dare you hit my wife! My mother! Fuck you!” He screamed, letting out every ounce of rage he had been holding in.
You could hear the kettle begin to whistle in the background, the pitch slowly rising as your pulse thrummed strongly. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the sight before you, you didn’t know if Jungkook was going to be able to calm down. He was enraged.
His father was laying still underneath him, his face bloodied and the only sign of him being alive the rise and fall of his chest. Jungkook finally stopped, sniffing as he rolled off of his father, his knuckles split and covered in blood. But he had stopped far too soon. His father suddenly lurched, dragging him to the ground and wrapping his hands tightly around his son’s throat.
You watched in shock, Jungkook’s body squirming as he tried to escape, his eyes darting around to try and find you. And, for some reason you don’t exactly know, you reached onto the counter, wrapped your fingers around a knife and slid it across the floor into his waiting hand.
You snapped your eyes shut as you began to hear the loud grunts of pain from his father each time the knife struck his body. You held Jungkook’s mother close, your hands covering her eyes so there would be no chance of her seeing. The kettle was whistling painfully loud, your heart beating violently as you listened to what was happening.
And soon, silence fell over the room. You opened your eyes and watched as Jungkook pushed the lifeless corpse of his father to the floor. He rolled over and looked at you, his face, neck, and hands coated in thick, wet, blood. He was shaking as he came down from his adrenaline high. He dropped the knife from his grip, tears suddenly pouring from his doe eyes as he crawled across the floor to you and his mother.
Loud, pained sobs wracked his chest as he threw himself at you, crying into your neck as he held you tightly.The scent of blood was thick in the air, the sticky, crimson fluid staining your skin as he gripped you tightly to him. He was inconsolable, sobbing like a child as he refused to let you move.
There was a corpse in the room, copious amounts of blood, Jungkook, you, and his mother.
You raised your hand and gently began to stroke his hair, curling your arms around his shaking, blood soaked body. You lightly pressed a kiss to the top of his head in an attempt to soothe him, rocking him back and forth.
“It’s okay, Jungkook. It’s okay.”
#bts#bts jungkook#bts x reader#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#yandere#yandere bts#yandere jungkook#bts fanfic#yandere jungkook x reader#yandere kpop#yandere bts x reader
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Note: Finally back from my break! Lots of things keep happening in my life that I’ve never expected, so I’m busier than usual, but I have queued up some quick stories for the next few weeks. Although this was inspired by the Are You Am I dresses, it’s more centred around Catholicism that I have a love-hate relationship with. Enjoy!
⚠️: 18+, fem! reader, altar sex, raw, church sex, overstimulation, creampie/breeding
“I don’t think we should be doing this.”
“Cut the act. You’d be fighting me, if you really opposed it,” Sukuna scoffs, admiring the view of your legs spread open—laid on top of the altar. Your ripped stockings, now webs of black thread, running across your thigh, like it’s still trying to keep him from tainting the last bit of innocence you had left. Beams of light fell from the skylight of the church, casting a soft glow on the God that was once loved, but now abandoned and left to be eaten by what he created.
“The hell are you wearing?” Sukuna arched his brow in a grimace expression.
You looked down at your outfit, not seeing what could be wrong with it. It’s your first time wearing something like this; a silk dress with dainty straps and a raw hemming that looks like it’s about to come undone & sheer opaque black stockings. “I don’t see anything wrong with it, does it look bad?” Sukuna strides towards you, analyzing your outfit, even lifting the hem of your dress as if he doesn’t know what’s already there.
“I will never understand the evolution of clothing in this era,” he cocks his head to the side with a placid look in his eyes. Ah, right. He died a long time ago.
“What did people used to wear in your time?”
“Fabrics that actually clothed them,” he tugs at your stockings and wiggles his finger in them, still trying to wrap his head around its function.
“Hey, stop that, it tickles and it feels weird,” you giggled, pushing his hand away.
“I don’t see any point in wearing it. I could rip this off right now.”
“Sukuna, no! This is expensive!” you bicker at him, clinging on to your dress as he tugs at it like a child does when they want their mom’s attention.
“Just ask Gojo to buy you a new one when we’re finished.”
“Finished?” the sound of threads shredding apart startles you.
You scan yourself like a puppy chasing its tail to see if he’d actually ripped your dress apart. Nothing, but something felt off—looking down at your stockings, you see that there was a large slit running down your leg, exposing your thigh.
"Heh, whoops," he flicks the small shred of fabric off his nails, walking you into a corner. The shadow of the room contrasts his face making his eyes glow a deeper crimson. "Don’t look away from me," grabbing your face, his nails dig into your skin as you try to fight off his grip. Lifting you against the wall, he softly drags his nails along your exposed thighs, teasingly drawing circular patterns the higher up he goes.
"Sukuna," you pleaded softly, his hand now on your neck, lifting you ´til you were on your tippy toes & trying to balance yourself so that you wouldn’t fall into complete suffocation.
"Shh, someone might hear you," he whispers in a low octave. You forgot you weren’t in a closed off area. The two of you were originally sent to an abandoned church to investigate a curse user of the Roman Catholic religion, that is until Sukuna took over Yuji’s body.
Your body jolts at Sukuna brushing his knuckles over your clit. The heat of you traces over the length of his finger through the thin fabric of your panties, stifling a moan. "Don’t be shy. It won’t be your first time sinning in front of a God," he cooed in your ears. He told you to be quiet, but he really just wanted to see you hold yourself back as he evokes your temptations & diminishes your composure. He loves seeing you corrupted, especially when it’s in a respectable church built to honour a God who guides herds of blinded sheep.
Only shame & humiliation wash over you as you avert your gaze from looking at the smaller crucifix hanging over the doorway the two of you came from. He turns to look in the same direction you did, a sly grin stretches from ear to ear. “I have a better idea,” his eyes narrow in defiance as he turns to look at the God overseeing the center aisle.
“I don’t think we should be doing this.”
“Cut the act. You’d be fighting me, if you really opposed it,” Sukuna scoffs, admiring the view of your legs spread open—laid on top of the altar. Your ripped stockings, now webs of black thread, running across your thigh, like it’s still trying to keep him from tainting the last bit of innocence you had left. Beams of light fell from the skylight of the church, casting a soft glow on the God that was once loved, but now abandoned and left to be eaten by what he created.
You released a deep exhale at the feeling of something soft and wet trailing over your inner thighs—Sukuna. The warm feeling eases the tension all over your body and you can feel the heat of your blood pumping in your ears, his face getting closer and closer to where you want him the most. “Maybe we should find a more private setting,” you try convincing him.
“Now why would I want that? Just look at how wet you are down here,” he bites on your panties and pulls them off, revealing a dripping mess. It was embarrassing, immoral, but there was something about how good it feels to be doing something so wrong. The thrill of it sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, your heart beating against your ribcage. More. “Tell me what you want.”
Everything, but even that thought wasn’t enough. “I want you . . . to take me to hell,” you whisper to him.
Taken aback by the words that just came out of your mouth, he brings himself back with that same sly grin and a soft look in his eyes. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
From one moment to the next, Sukuna drove your sanity out from you until you could think of nothing, but only him. The bold movement of his tongue reaching in to taste you, his fingers teasing around your clit and fondling your breasts, his lips pressing on every part of your skin, leaving wet splotches that are deep enough in colour to bloom into an aching bruise afterwards.
“Sukuna,” you lift the hem of your dress over as you fold your legs to your chest—revealing your painfully aching cunt, glistening with desire. The syllables of his name roll off the tip of your tongue like nectar. “More.”
“You don’t need to tell me,” he pulls your hips towards him, enough for your cunt to be pressing against the thick bulge fighting the strain of his black jeans. The altar creaked, as if in disappointment, at the sudden weight change.
Mesmerized by the sight of you laid on the altar like an offering, he takes his time to soak in the image, burning it into his mind; the burnished oak altar with the scene of the last supper carved beneath it, a warm glow cascading from the skylight of the church and the large crucified God, looking down at the lustful act unfolding in his house of worship. But then the feeling of your hips impatiently bucking at him interrupts his thoughts. “You know, they say patience is a virtue,” pleased at your eagerness.
“Fuck the virtues.”
“What a bold thing to say in a church,” he softly chuckles, the sound of his zipper perking your ears.
You reach for his belt, but he laces his fingers into yours, pressing your hand down. The tip of him brushes against your soft folds, lubricating itself with your juices. Without a struggle, his cock unfolds you, pushing a welcoming entrance open between your legs. Your walls flutter in excitement, pulling him in, as the creaking floors of the church groaned in disapproval.
“Oh, God,” you gripped at the altar cloth.
“You should moan louder for the angels to hear,” he thrusted into you harder than when he entered, the sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls. “Fuck.”
All righteous thoughts were purged out of you, like a soul being cleansed anew at adoration. Demon. It wasn’t your first time with him and it definitely won’t be your last. You can feel your body getting desperate to finish as you began to buck your hips faster.
“Closer,” you held your breath, arching your back.
The sound of his name falling off your lips sends a painful feeling of the need of wanting more. He wanted to strip away your senses to see a side of you that no one else has ever seen, the first to discover you and explore whatever you hid away from plain sight. That is what drove the King of Curses, Father of All Sins, to greed.
Echoes of your panting and moaning became a choir of sultry tones, replacing the familiar sounds of organs and bells in the church. Even though your legs were trembling from reaching your limits, he kept on going, ignoring your pleas and begging.
“Not yet,” he grunts in your ear.
“Please . . . I can’t take it anymore.”
Tears stream down your face as you grip onto Sukuna’s arms. The feeling in your legs were no longer there and you were having a hard time controlling your tremors. Just when you thought you couldn’t reach another climax, your cunt began pulsating rapidly as your body uncontrollably tensed up again.
When Sukuna pulled out, a waterfall of cum spilled out of you and pooled onto the altar cloth, dripping down the carving of the Last Supper. The two of you pant in exhaustion, he’s laying on top of you with his arms wrapped around your head, his hand firmly holding you close to him.
You brush your fingers through his hair, reciprocating the same affection back. “Tell me you’re finished for today,” you giggled.
“I wanna say ‘no’, but that’d mean you’d be knocking on Shoko’s door again.”
Both of you laughed as you teasingly tugged at his ear.
“Should we clean—!”
As he helped carry you off the altar, you looked back at the aging oak and crumpled cloth that had been perfectly fine and untainted—now dented with deep inhuman scratch marks surrounding the faint imprint of where you laid.
#minors dni#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fic#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#ryomen x reader#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#sukuna x you#sukuna smut#sukuna ryomen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fic
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Quarantine: Ink
Summary: Henry wakes up with some ink that you put on him.
Pairing: Henry Cavill/You
Word Count: 1,737
Warning: M - Language, Fluff, Prank, Smut - Mention of Cock-warming, intercourse, cream-pie, simulation
Inspiration: There’s a company called Ink Box I’ve always wanted to try and I thought it be funny to prank someone with it, and thought I’d write a prank fic with Hen about it.
Author’s Note: This story is for and dedicated to @littlefreya! You have my deepest love and support, lady.
You ripped open the brown packaging and smiled at the two pieces of film inside. You had ordered them two weeks prior and received them the day before, and had intended on waiting on the best moment to reveal them to Henry, to convince him to use them with you.
But, one thing had led to another and you and Henry had ended up ripping each other's clothing off and making love in the living room, before ordering take away and having a sweet night in together.
Speaking of your beloved boyfriend, he was still upstairs in bed, sprawled out on his stomach and snoring softly. With quarantine in place, Henry got to sleep in most mornings, which was nice, he worked so hard, between his work outs and his filming projects, getting up at four-thirty in the morning, he deserves to sleep in til ten or eleven.
That's when the idea hit you, with a giggle.
Taking the items upstairs to the master bedroom with you, you smiled at your peaceful and oblivious Puppy, still on his stomach, arms folded underneath his pillow and his head resting on top of them. Biting your lip, you carefully pulled down the blankets still covering his stark body, your fingers, light as feathers, touched the base of his neck and traced down the slope of his broad back, lingering in the hollow of his spine, before cupping one of the cheeks of his plentiful tush in your palm; chuckling softly.
“You are beautiful.” You cooed at his sleeping form, a bubble of loving pride in your chest, before you carefully got into bed and straddled his hips, making Henry moan and grunt, shifting and his face pinching as you disturbed him. “Ssshh.” You purred, leaning down, and kissing the space between his wide shoulders.
“Sleep, Puppy. Sleep.” You mumbled, nuzzling his shoulder blade and rubbing the back of his head, until he moaned again, relaxing and dropping back off to sleep.
Henry settled, you relaxed and sat back, sitting on his thighs, and stared at him for a long moment, before nodding to yourself and picking up a single use, primer wipe packet that came with the two items you ordered, and ripping it open. You gently rubbed the wipe in circles on the back of Henry's right shoulder, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you did, waiting and expecting him to wake up and catch you at any moment. But, he only made a couple of noises and shifted a few times, otherwise he was blissfully unaware and out cold.
Rubbing Henry's shoulder with the wipe for thirty seconds, you tossed it on the nightstand and let the spot dry, while you picked out which of the two items you wanted to apply to the spot, before finally settling. Gently peeling off the protective film from the back, you carefully pressed the sticky side down to the clean, dry and exfoliated section of Henry's shoulder, smoothing it out, so there were no wrinkles or creases, hoping Henry didn't move too much while it was there, for the next hour. With that one down, you moved on, starting to giggle again, but slapped a hand over your mouth, so you didn't wake Henry up with it. You opened the second primer wipe and used it on the exposed side of Henry's neck, being even gentler and careful, knowing just how sensitive the skin here was; but you couldn't resist putting this one here on his neck, where he would almost always see it and likely couldn't cover it up.
With both applied to his skin, you slipped off of him, laying down beside him, arm slung over the small his back and cheek pressed to his clear shoulder blade, listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, drifting in and out of sleep yourself, until you heard Henry's alarm go off.
“Wait, wait, wait!” You protested, jumping up out of bed, pressing your hands down on his back. “Don't move yet.”
“Why?” Henry frowned at you, feeling the filmy patch on his neck and tried to reach out and touch it.
“You still have ten minutes.” You told him, catching his arm.
“What have you been doing, Nugget?” Henry sighed, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he laid back down and relaxed.
“You'll see in ten minutes.” You chuckled, peeking to making sure none of his moving wrinkled the film stuck to his skin, and was relieved when they weren't. “Did you sleep well?”
“You know, I always sleep well, when I'm buried cock deep in you.” He chuckled coyly, smirking, and his sleepy blue eyes sparkling mischievously.
You grinned, uncontrollably, and looked away from him, almost shy. “I do know that.” You chuckled back, licking your lips and clearing your throat. “But, you know what I mean, silly bear.”
“I did.” Henry sighed softly, reaching out to gently trace your side with the back of his fingers. “Did you?”
“Mmhm.” You nodded, gently touching his neck. “Okay.” You smiled, gently peeling the applicator film off his neck and shoulder. “All right, you can look now.” You giggled, grinning, impishly at him.
Henry pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes at you, skeptical, but got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, seeing what was on his neck first. “You did not!” He barked, coming back into the bedroom, his eyes huge and mouth hanging open.
“How could you!?” He demanded, but the betrayed amusement was very clear in his voice.
“And it'll only get darker over the next two days.” You grinned, stepping up to him, to touch the faint, blue-ish, World of Warcraft, Horde symbol on the side of his neck, just below his left ear. “You're a traitor to your precious Alliance now, my precious Paladin.” You teased him, tickled with delight.
“Did you see the one on your shoulder?” You asked, lifting a brow at him, more than sure he had not.
“What?” Henry snapped, his voice breaking a teeny bit, and turned to go back into the bathroom.
You followed him into the bathroom, watching him turn his back to the full length mirror and crane his head over his shoulder, struggling to see his back to spot the other temporary tattoo on his shoulder that you had put on him, then looked back at you, shoulders dropping and eyes even wider at the Cat nose and whiskers.
“Seriously?” He huffed at you, shaking his head.
“I was originally going to put that one on the inside of my wrist.” You explained, trying to hold back a burst of laughter. “But, I got carried away.” You told him, finally losing control and busting out into a hoot of laughter, doubling over.
“How long do these last?”
“It'll fade in three weeks, promise.” You told him, wiping away tears, seeing the panicked worry in his face.
“I am so fucked, if I have to do any interviews or PR stuff.” Henry laughed, looking at the Horde logo on his neck; tracing it with his finger. “Why the Horde crest?”
“They didn't have the Alliance Lion.” You replied, hopping up to sit on the counter. “Plus, I thought it would be funny, since I know you're such a die hard Alliance player.” You chuckled, leaning in to kiss the crest, hands resting on Henry's bare sides.
“What sense of humour you have, my love.” Henry cooed, turning his head to capture your lips in his own and stepped between your legs. “You do know, I will get you back for this.” He whispered against your lips, kissing you deeper, his hands grabbing the back of your knees and yanked you closer to him.
“I expect nothing less.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.
A hum rumbling in his chest, Henry grabbed the back of your head and deepened the kiss, tongue swiping by your lips to flick across your tongue, making both of you moan at the same time. You rocked your hips against his, feeling his cock awaken against your thighs and folds. Henry's teeth pulled at your bottom lip as he pulled his body away from yours enough for you to slip your hand between your humming bodies to grab his hard length, stroking the throbbing organ, your thumb caressing the weeping, uncut head, before guiding it to your entrance.
“Christ, you feel so fucking good.” You moaned into his neck, hugging your legs tighter around his hips as he pushed inside of you.
“You too, baby.” Henry groaned, placing open mouthed kisses on your neck and shoulder, while thrusting into you. “You're so snug around me.” He panted into your ear, planting his hands on the counter, on either side of you, and used the leverage to increase the strength of his thrusts, making the items on the counter rattle and a couple knock over
“Uh, Henry!” You cried out, one hand grasping the top of his shoulder, as you leaned back on your other one. ”God, fuck!” You let go of his shoulder and started rubbing your clit.
Both your and Henry's breathing was as erratic as your movements, lost in the moment of heated passion and pleasure. Henry grabbed you by the waist, slapping your and his hips together as his thrusts became wild and involuntary, starting to reach his plateau. You could feel the increased throb of his cock inside of you, the hot swelling against your walls as his balls tightened with his building orgasm. Henry snapped his hips into you one more time before throwing his head back and going completely rigid, his stiff cock pumping ribbon after ribbon of hot cum into your core, helping you tip over into your own plateau, your hand falling away from your clit.
Henry sluggishly wrapped his arms around your torso and hugged you against him, kissing your lips and temple, before breathily whispering into your hair. “I'm picking out yours.”
You chuckled, pressing your cheek to his chest, feeling his pounding heart slowing down. “I'll show you the website during breakfast.” You promised, turning your head to press a chaste kiss to the Horde logo on his neck.
#Henry Cavill#HenryCavill#viking-raider fics#Quarantine: Ink#Quarantine: Ink *fic*#Quarantine Series#Ink#Ink Box#Henry Cavill/You#Henry Cavill x You#Henry Cavill/Reader#Henry Cavill x Reader#tattoos#littlefreya#smut#fluff#language
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It's Who We Are Underneath That Defines Us
Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot
Word Count: 1.9K
Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst
Author's Note: Really gotta make the story where the Batfamily learns she and GL are dating. Enjoy! -Thorne
**********************************************************************
“Hey babe?”
She hummed absentmindedly, her eyes still trained to the stars above. “Yeah, Kyle?” Fingers twitched against her palm, then laced with her own; a heartbeat pounded against her skin, like a pulsing speaker, causing her to look over at him. “Is everything alright?”
Evergreen eyes met hers and he murmured, “Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t a superhero?”
She blinked, the question giving her a slight pause. Leaning closer, she propped her chin in his shoulder and teased, “Thinking about how you could’ve had an apple pie and picket fence life, Kyle?”
A grin crossed his lips and he glanced over at her. “To be honest with you, (Y/N), I’m more of a cherry pie kinda man.” His gaze dropped, and his eyes roamed her body. “Blame Warrant on that one.” She rolled her eyes, but the laugh she gave him showed her amusement. Kyle paused, his gaze searching her face. “But back to my original question...what do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t a vigilante?”
(Y/N) inhaled deeply, rolling away from his shoulder and laid on her back, her eyes scanning the immense field of stars above them. “I don’t know, honestly. I’ve never really given it much thought.” Raising her hand, she traced the scars across her expanse of her arm with her eyes. “I’ve been training to be a vigilante since I was ten years old...helping people is all I’ve ever really wanted to do with life.”
She looked back over at him. “But since you asked, if I wasn’t a vigilante, I’d probably be a stuck-up rich bitch who overcharges her dad’s credit cards and throws hissy fits when she gets told no.” Kyle snorted, and she giggled.
After a moment of silence, he looked to her and asked, “Would you ever change anything you’ve done?”
The question he’d given her had been one she’s asked herself so many times. What if’s rising to the tongue of a girl too afraid to choose a path other than that of the least resistance, but ultimately keeping them contained and taking the hardest ones anyway. (Y/N) bit her lip slightly, the memories of every mistake, every wrong choice, flashing behind her eyes like lightning in a storm. The fingers laced though hers squeezed gently, dragging her from them, and she glanced back over, her eyes tracing the wisps of hair at his temples that had fallen from the gel he’d put in it earlier.
She blinked, then gave him a smile, her voice soft as she replied, “No...I don’t think I would change a single thing.”
Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he questioned, “Why not? Hasn’t there been a time where you’ve screwed up monumentally and couldn’t change it?”
(Y/N) watched him carefully, the words toying with the tip of her tongue as she asked calmly, “Are you talking about what happened to Alex?”
His face momentarily darkened, a mixture of anger, hate, and self-loathing, then it fell, and she saw the pain and regret in his eyes and heard it in his voice as he muttered, “I’m talking about everything that I’ve done wrong.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, the heel of his tennis shoes scraping against the brick of the roof. He let out a heavy sigh, causing her heart to tighten, and she rose beside him, curling her arm through his.
They stared at the city across the water, then she murmured, “When I was sixteen, I accidentally shoved someone over a support beam during a fight.” He eyed her, silently wondering what had happened and just what the hell this had to do with his issues. “Didn't mean to, of course. But he grabbed me from behind, and I did what I'd been trained to do—react. I freed myself and made the distance between us. But I misjudged the force of my kick and he tumbled over and down about a hundred feet onto concrete.”
She paused, thumb rubbing the back of his hand. “When my family and friends saw what I’d done, even if it were an accident, a lot of them decided to keep me at an arm's length. ‘She might kill again’, they said, ‘If she’s killed once, she’ll do it again...there’s no way we can trust her anymore.’ Eventually, I stopped patrolling with the Titans and Teen Titans. Hell, I even stopped helping the Justice League. I did my own thing by myself because no one trusted me anymore. ‘Til this day, there are some people within the superhero community who shun me and don’t trust me. And at every meeting, somehow, someway, it's always brought up.”
(Y/N) looked over at him, squeezing his hand again. “Wherever I go, whatever I do, that follows me. It’s never going to be let go, and it’s certainly never going to be forgotten. However, despite those problems and feelings, and what occurred in the past, that accident doesn't define meor my actions. Yes, I unintentionally took someone’s life, but I’m not a murderer. I carry that burden with me, and I always will and while I can't change what happened, it drives me to make sure that I don't make the same mistake again.”
She let go of his hand, slipping her legs on either side of his body, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks; she caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs, staring into his eyes, and mustered the sincerest voice she could. “Kyle, what you’ve gone through, the people you’ve lost, the people you’ve saved, and the friends you’ve gathered along the way? That’s not who you are...it’s what you do with it that defines who you are.” His eyes widened slightly, and his lips parted to speak, but no words fell from them.
(Y/N) gave him a warm smile and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his forehead; she pulled back and murmured, “It may not mean much, but I'm proud of you, Kyle. You make me proud every single day.” She watched him exhale shakily, and she swore she could see the damn inside him breaking as he lowered his head, his arms reaching to pull her against him.
She shifted, perching in his lap, and let him bury his face in her neck. Kyle let out a breath, but it felt more like a soft sob, and heat blossomed against her skin where his lips touched.
He let out a sound, crossing between a groan and grunt as he told her, “I love you, (Y/N).”
She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips brushing his temple. “I love you too, Kyle.”
They stayed that way for a few minutes, simply holding the other. Providing the anchors needed to keep their spirits alive. Eventually, (Y/N) pulled back and dragged his face away from her neck, huffing a laugh when he whined lowly from the loss of contact.
She reached up and wiped his face. “You look like a kid who was told no to ice-cream before dinner.”
Kyle let out a chuckle, moving her hands away and rubbing at his face vigorously. She climbed out of his lap and sat beside him once more, and he looked over at her wondering, “How do you manage to stay so positive outside the mask? To be the same person in costume and out?”
(Y/N) went silent, thinking for a moment, then she said, “A few years ago, I asked my dad the same thing, and he told me, ‘It doesn't matter who we are underneath the costume or out in the real world...it’s what we do in or out that defines us. If the person you claim to be isn’t the same person inside and outside of uniform, you don’t need to be wearing it.’” She glanced back over at him, nudging him in the ribs. “Don't worry about it though, you’re still a dork inside and out of G.L.”
Kyle let out an amused scoff, placing a hand against his chest. “I can't believe you would insult your boyfriend like that. A dork? I’m hurt.”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes, looking back at the city. “Kyle, you doodle in the middle of J.L. meetings, and it’s usually caricatures of my dad strangling Hal, the Joker, Jason, or Dick…typically it depends on what’s going on during the meetings and who’s been a pain in his ass for it.”
He opened his mouth to retort, but shut it, then raised a pointer finger at her. “Alright, you have me there.”
(Y/N) looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Of course I have you there, Dork Lantern...” She gave him a grin, wiggling her eyebrows and quipped, “I sit and doodle with you.” The two of them laughed, and she rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh. “I could stay with you here forever.”
Kyle nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Me too.”
A moment of silence passed them, and as they were enjoying it, a voice called out, “Oi! Kyle! Queenie! Are you guys up there!”
She let out a groan, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “So help me God, I can’t enjoy anything without dumb and dumber sticking their noses into it.”
Kyle looked over at her, his eyebrows furrowing as he pointed out, “But there’s only one?”
(Y/N) raised a hand in a ‘wait’ motion, then she waved it and, “Of course they’re up there Little-wing. The roof is where all the teens go to make out.”
Her eye twitched, and she leaned over the ledge, shouting, “The only person who’s made out on the roof is you, Dick. And it was with Kori after you guys broke up...AGAIN.”
A scoff sounded below followed by, “Hit me where it hurts why don't you!” She rolled her eyes, huffing, then he asked, “Is Kyle up there with you?”
“And what’s it to you?”
“Just wanted to make sure you guys are acting appropriate.”
“Dick...I am older than you. Kyle and I are both older than you.”
“So?”
(Y/N) turned to Kyle and mouthed, ‘Wanna get out of here?’ He flashed her a grin, then a strike of green blinded her, and he stood before her in his Green Lantern suit. He held out his hand. A beam of green light surrounded them, and a moment later, (Y/N) felt herself drop into a seat. She looked around, a grin appearing on her lips as she ran her hand along the dash of the constructed car.
“Kyle, are you trying to woo me with my love of nice cars?”
He matched her grin, laying his unoccupied arm across the seats. “I don't know...is it working?”
She nodded, sliding over into his side. “Yes. It is.” He chuckled, and they started moving, leaving her two brothers yelling for them.
“Kyle! Are you letting (Y/N) ride in the Green Machine?! You never let me do that!”
“(Y/N)’s my girlfriend, Jason!”
“I’M YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND! WHAT EVEN!”
She leaned across Kyle, glaring at Dick and Jason. “Go do something productive with your time, losers.”
“I am hurt, Jellybean! I thought you loved me!”
“Only when I can get something out of it!” (Y/N) glanced at Kyle and grinned. “Hit the gas G.L. Don't let ‘em catch the taillights.” He smirked, and they waved as they left Wayne Manor behind them.
#kyle rayner x reader#kyle rayner x reader imagines#kyle rayner x reader imagine#kyle rayner imagines#kyle rayner imagine#kyle rayner#green lantern#batfamily x reader#batfamily x reader imagines#batfamily x reader imagine#batfamily imagines#batfamily imagine#batfamily#batsis x batfam#batsis x batfamily#batsis x batfamily imagines#batsis x batfamily imagine#batsis imagines#batsis imagine#batsis#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#dc imagines#dc imagine#dc comics#dc
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I have a fic request for Kuroo! A childhood friends to lovers situation based off the song Take my Hand by Picture This! (Just a cute song that has been haunting me because Kuroo ❤️)
I have been through and stalked your blog and I love it! I also saw the ficmas prompt list and I’m looking forward to requesting those too!
I hope this is okay and thank you so much! Your stuff is a joy to read! ❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨
take my hand
kuroo tetsurou x reader
hope you enjoy <3
five.
“You’re my best friend,” he tells you, swallowing the heart that keeps straining to burst from his throat, to lay itself at your feet in all its humiliating devotion. “Of course I love you.”
And he does love you, he reassures himself, letting you walk ahead of him. Just not in the way you think he does. He struggles to keep his eyes above your waistline, tearing his gaze from the hem of your skirt and pointedly pinning it to the back of your head, where your hair is loosely tied with a glossy silk ribbon. His efforts succeed for nearly thirty seconds before he again finds his eyes tracing their way down your neck, down your back, down to the arch of your waist and the flare of your hips, relishing the curve of your--
Damn it. He abruptly stops in his tracks, rubbing his eyes until he sees only stars. (Maybe if he rubs his eyes with enough vigor he’ll stop noticing things he shouldn’t notice while looking at his best friend.)
“Tetsu,” you say, turning around with a laugh. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says gruffly, blinking hard.
He’s not fine.
four.
Life is painful when you’re in love with your oldest, dearest friend. Let Kuroo Tetsurou be the first to testify that when you’ve grown up with someone your entire life, when you’ve made the long, tedious trek from diapers to graduation gowns with them, it feels almost sinful to find yourself slipping into daydreams about pressing that person against your wall, about hearing them whisper your name on soft linen sheets, about kissing them breathless and glassy eyed until the sun plunges beneath the horizon with a brazen wink.
He hates himself for staring at you and hoping to catch you staring back. He hates himself for letting your words wash over his head, unheard, in favor of watching the way your lips curve and curl when you speak.
Most of all, he hates himself for loving you so fiercely in a particular way that would surely sour your stomach and send you running.
“I love you too,” you say, waiting for him to catch up and fall into step beside you. You take his hand and lace your fingers with his as you make your way up the street to your house. The windows glow a domestic orange, dimly illuminating the patch of asphalt before your front door.
It’s nearing seven now-- the gentle clinking of silverware and some sort of faint, savory scent from within inform you of dinner’s impending commencement.
“I know,” he says, cracking a crooked smile. You roll your eyes as he brushes a mocking kiss over your knuckles. “I’m hard to hate.”
three.
Most of the summer passes uneventfully, according to Kuroo’s standards. He manages to keep himself in check, even as he spends each and every day with you, dawn til dusk, savoring your presence the way a starving man savors his last ration.
He manages to treat you almost exactly as he’s treated you his entire life-- like a best friend. He tells his silly jokes that make you giggle and groan simultaneously. He pushes you off the pier when you least expect it, howling with laughter as you resurface, sputtering and flinging fiery invective. He shares an earbud with you as he walks downtown with you by his side, arm slung over your shoulder with carefully calculated composure.
He almost makes it to autumn without incident.
The small, hidden moments are what gives him away, though, layered within false nonchalance and easygoing grins like brightly painted matryoshka.
The way his chest constricts almost painfully when you laugh at a pun he’s ad-libbed on the spot, sending a flurry of butterflies freewheeling in the pit of his stomach.
“It really wasn’t that good,” he chuckles, tenderly watching as tears of laughter prick at the corners of your eyes and you grip his forearm in an attempt to steady yourself as giggles rack your body.
“No, it wasn’t,” you agree, struggling to catch your breath. “It was awful, and that’s what made it so funny.”
(He makes about a dozen more puns that day, feeling like he’s won the lottery whenever you so much as smile at his pitiful attempts at wordplay.)
The way his hands tremble when you turn around and ask him to tie your bikini string before you jump into the lake, the way he bites his lip so some horribly incriminating comment about how he really thinks you’d “be better off without the bikini at all” doesn’t slip out from his mouth.
“Thanks Tetsu,” you chirp after he ties the string around the back of your neck in a neat double-knot. You give him a wink and take off towards the water, kicking up sand in the process. “Last one in buys lunch!”
(He was already planning on paying anyways.)
The way he sits up a little straighter when you lean over and slip a hand under his arms to press ‘skip’ on his phone while you listen to his playlist-- you’re so close he can smell your lip balm.
“Sorry,” you say, smiling apologetically. “I don’t really like that band.”
(Later that evening, Kuroo goes through his Spotify and deletes every single song from that band he has on all of his playlists.)
Yes, he manages to keep himself in check outwardly. But inside, he can feel himself digging his grave a little deeper with each passing day. He watches the sands of summer run through his fingers with the dread of a man counting down the days to his funeral.
He just knows that one of these days he’s going to slip.
two.
He’s right, of course. There’s only so much emotional torment one person can humanly endure. It’s just that he’s hoping he can extinguish this inconvenient, one-sided flame before August comes around. Maybe then everything can go back to normal, whatever normal might entail.
Needless to say, Kuroo’s hopes are dashed before summer comes to a close.
It’s a sticky July evening when you and he drive out to an empty parking lot at the edge of town, a blanket and an old transistor radio in tow. You’re wearing a pale yellow sundress that falls to just above your knees-- he’s glad it’s not any shorter, and that the breeze isn’t quite strong enough to lift your hem.
“I think I can see Orion’s belt,” you say, pointing towards somewhere far into the cosmos. Kuroo squints, trying to follow your finger.
“I don’t think that’s Orion,” he says. “Looks like a cat to me.”
The two of you are sitting on a blanket spread across the hood of his car, craning your necks to make out vague shapes in the stars. Between you, slow, muffled music trickles out from the radio’s small speakers, some sort of vintage tune from the forties.
“How in the world are you seeing a cat?” You shake your head, giving him a hard poke on the shoulder. “Looks more like a swarm of astral bees than anything.”
“Astral bees,” he repeats with a laugh. “Laziest constellation interpretation I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s not lazy,” you protest. “It’s accurate.”
Kuroo just smiles and shrugs, sneaking a glance at you. Your face is bathed in milky starlight, eyes wide as you peer up at the cloudless sky with a blend of wonder and appreciation. There’s some competition, but he thinks this might be the prettiest you’ve ever looked in a single moment.
As if you can feel his stare, you turn to catch his gaze. A gentle smile breaks onto your face, and you absentmindedly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with the endearing shyness of a schoolgirl. “What is it?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he says, mirroring your grin. “You just… look nice right now.”
“No, seriously,” you laugh disbelievingly. “Is there something on my face?”
“I am being serious,” Kuroo insists, fidgeting with the blanket beneath his palms. “You look good. Yellow suits you.”
You flush, glancing down at your dress. You bought it two summers back, and he’s seen you in it a million times before. This is the first summer where he’s really seen you, though. “Well, thank you. It’s a warm night, so I figured I was better off in a dress than pants.”
“Yeah,” he says softly, breaking eye contact to squint up at the stars. He grins and points, finger trembling slightly. “I think I can see where you’re coming from, with the bees.”
one.
A staticky, syrupy waltz comes on the radio, bleeding into the cracks in the comfortable silence. You sigh contentedly, leaning back onto the windshield. “I like this song. It’s… nostalgic.”
Kuroo cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’ve heard this before?”
“No,” you laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. “But it reminds me of times gone by, you know? Like, this is the sort of music I imagine playing when a soldier reunites with his wife after the war.”
“When he comes running out of the train and drops his bags on the platform,” Kuroo continues, watching you carefully, “only to sweep his girl off her feet and spin her around wildly.”
You nod, sneaking a glance at him. “You really know me that well, huh?”
“Yeah,” he says, eyes crinkling with humor. “But I get it, too. It has that old fashioned romance thing goin’ on.”
“Mhm,” you agree. You reach over and fiddle with the radio’s volume, turning it up just enough to round out the sound completely.
Kuroo sits for a moment, watching you close your eyes and hum along to the music. Then, a sudden boldness taking the reins, he hops off the hood and walks over to you, extending his hand. “Take it.”
“What?”
“Take my hand,” he insists, so you do, gingerly placing your palm atop his. “We’re going to dance.”
“Oh, no,” you laugh, nonetheless letting him help you down from the car and resting a hand on his shoulder. He lightly places his own on your waist, leading you out into the parking lot. “You know I can’t dance.”
“I can’t either,” he reminds you. “But I want to dance with you right now.”
As you begin to sway slightly to the music, Kuroo pulls you a little closer to his chest, letting his chin brush the top of your head. “Why are you into that whole idea?”
“What idea?” you ask quietly, letting him lead you in slow circles around the lot.
“The idea of an old fashioned love.”
“Oh,” you say, laughing as Kuroo spins you in his arms, catching you before you stumble. “I’m not sure… maybe because it seems more constant than love today. Like, today, if you tell someone you love them, it’s a compliment, not a promise. But back then, it was a vow. It meant something.”
Kuroo swallows, looking down at you. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, threatening to burst out of his temples. I’m about to do something I might regret.
zero.
“I need you to do something for me,” he says, voice low and thick with caution. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Please,” he says, voice breaking. He knows that if he doesn’t do this now, he never will. You look beautiful to him in this moment, dancing with him in the empty parking lot to the faint melody of an old waltz. Your eyes glisten with life, your lips gently parted, hair slightly curling over your cheeks.
You roll your eyes once but nonetheless close them obediently, relying a little more on his arms to steady you. He swallows. “Okay. So, imagine we’re living in the 1940s.”
“Okay,” you say, smiling slightly. “I’m imagining.”
“Imagine I enlisted in the war, and I just got back home. Imagine you’re waiting for me at the train station.”
“Mhmm,” you say, trying your best to envision the platform. “You look good in that uniform, Tetsu.”
He chuckles. “I look good in anything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you say, squeezing his hand. “Get on with it.”
“Imagine I come sprinting out from the train and you’re waiting there with open arms. This song is playing on the platform speakers. I ask you to dance just like we are now.” Kuroo watches you grin, feeling his heart flutter. “Then, imagine I tell you something.”
Unconsciously, you shift closer to him, almost pressing your body flush to his. A breath hitches in his throat. “What do you tell me?”
He leans down, brushes his lips against your ear. “I love you.”
You open your eyes, head cocked, slight confusion cloaking your features. “You mean, like…?”
Kuroo shakes his head. “No. I mean, like, I love you. Not just in a friend way. In that old fashioned way you were talking about. I love everything about you. I’m in love with everything about you.”
“Tetsu…” you breathe, searching his face. He gazes down at you seriously, not a trace of humor tainting his stare. He takes a deep breath.
“I love the way your hair falls in the summer. I love your stupid, annoying laugh. I love how your hand fits in mine. I love the way you rant about anything and everything and expect me to listen, and I do because I can’t help but get excited about what you get excited about. I love you like a soldier loves his wife,” he says, the words flowing out like a river bursting from a dam. “I love you so much it hurts, and it scares me, and I’m sorry if this ruins stuff between us, but I just had to--”
“Shut up.”
He blinks, mouth gaping. “I-- what?”
“I said,” you whisper, gripping the back of his neck and guiding his face down to yours. “Shut up, Tetsu. You talk too much.”
Then suddenly you’re kissing him, and he can’t believe it, but he kisses you back like it’s what he was born to do. He lets you crash your lips into his and watches as shooting stars burst forth and the planets align. Somehow, your hands find their way up into his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks, and his own travel down to your lower back, pulling you as close as humanly possible, so tightly he never wants to let go. He revels in the warmth of your skin, the icy, tingly sensation of your lips, and when you pull back, it’s all he can do to refrain from pulling you right back in again.
There’s a brief silence. His lips are swollen, his lungs are devoid of air. “I… wow. Just, wow.”
You grin wickedly, slipping your hand into his. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now.”
“You have?” he asks, eyes wide in disbelief. “I didn’t notice.”
“Of course you didn’t,” you laugh. “You were too worried about not letting me notice you staring at my ass every chance you got.”
Kuroo flushes but gives a sheepish smile, massaging the back of his neck. “You know, I really thought I was being smooth about it.”
--
As it turns out, you love him back. And not just in the best friend way. You love everything about him, his stupid jokes, his loud, booming laugh, his teasing, his smile, his successes and his failures. You love how your hand fits in his. You love that it took him years and years to admit to himself that he loved you, too.
Kuroo Tetsurou may not be the smoothest guy in the world, but he’s certainly the only one you want. And you’re certainly the only one he wants.
And that’s really the most you could ever ask for.
#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!!#kuroo#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo headcanons#kuroo tetsurou headcanons#kuroo imagines#kuroo tetsurō x reader#kuroo scenarios#kuroo x y/n#kuroo x you#friends to lovers
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Fake It Til You Make It
A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.
First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden
Previous: Adrift
Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.
“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”
“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”
The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”
Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.
The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.
“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.
“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”
The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.
Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!
The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.
And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.
***
Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.
His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”
Mitsuhide nodded.
“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”
He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”
She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”
“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.
And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.
Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.
“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”
“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.
Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”
His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”
Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.
“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”
Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”
Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”
“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”
“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.
“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.
The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.
“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”
The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.
The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.
Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.
In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.
Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.
Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.
He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.
Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.
She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”
“Where to, my love?”
“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.
They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.
“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”
Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”
“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.
After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.
“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.
She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”
Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.
Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”
“Please, continue.”
“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.
Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”
She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”
He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”
“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.
Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.
Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.
He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”
“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.
“And that?”
“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.
The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .
“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”
“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.
He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.
The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.
Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.
His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.
He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.
“I love you too.”
She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.
Next: Kitsune's Day Out
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Carnival Lights
(Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader)
Bo makes a stranger’s ride on the Ferris wheel more than an average trip to the carnival.
WARNINGS: Non-con, forced orgasm (NSFW below the line).
~
It was your first blind date since you were sixteen. The guy was twenty-three and already a junior partner in a prestigious law firm, and dull as paint. But, even discounting his handsome face and impeccable manners, your mom would never forgive you if you messed up on the first date. He’d opted out of riding the wheel with you, confessing a fear of heights that prevented him scaling anything higher than a stepladder, and had stepped away to pick up snacks for when you descended.
The Ferris wheel had always been your favourite ride as a kid, back when your dad used to take you to the carnival, and you really wanted at least one ride before the night ended – for old time’s sake. You didn’t care if it made you look weird to ride alone.
The wheel is an old-fashioned one with round, metal-roofed cars, with seats sitting opposite each other. Thankfully, it doesn’t tilt too far with just your weight to balance it.
“Just you?” the attendant asks. You nod.
He’s just about to close the door and secure it when someone speaks up:
“Excuse me, y’all mind if I ride with you?”
He’s a handsome, dark-haired man in his thirties, with a lazy Louisiana drawl, dressed comfortably in work pants and a navy button-down shirt, an old red-and-white trucker cap sticking out of his back pocket. His face is friendly, eyebrows raised in hope as he awaits your response.
“Oh . . . I, uh . . .”
You’re not sure your date would appreciate you sitting in such a confined space with a strange guy you just met, but the attendant is looking at you impatiently, so you panic and shrug in consent. The guy smiles and takes the seat opposite you, the car bouncing a little at the change in weight. His legs are long, his knees almost brushing yours, but he keeps his hands at a respectable distance in his lap. The attendant fastens the door shut and the car trundles a few feet along to allow the next passengers. You know it’s gonna take a while – they need to fill up every car before setting the wheel to spin freely. Which means you’re sitting with this guy for at least the next ten minutes.
“Name’s Bo,” he says, holding out a hand to you.
“Um . . . Y/N,” you reply, accepting the handshake politely. His hand is big, his palm warm against yours.
“Figured we might as well get acquainted if we’re stuck in this tuna can together,” he reasons.
“Yeah,” you grin nervously, not wanting to point out that you’re only “stuck” because it was his idea to join you.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m a creature of impulse – my ma used to take me and my brothers on this wheel when we were little kids, an’ I saw you sittin’ alone and, I dunno, you just looked like a nice girl, so I took a shot.”
“No, it – it’s okay,” your smile grows more genuine. “My dad used to take me on this wheel too, every time the carnival came into town.”
He smiles, his eyes fixed on your face. He has an intense, dark stare, his brown eyes barely blinking. “So you here by yourself?”
“No, my date’s around here somewhere.”
“Well, that’s a little weird,” Bo says. “Leavin’ you to ride alone?”
“Heh, yeah,” you shrug. “Doesn’t like heights.”
Bo snorts and mutters something that sounds like, “Pussy.” You can’t help but giggle.
The car has now elevated far enough from the ground as to make disembarking impossible. You gaze down at the sprawling carnival lights, illuminating the stalls, food carts and rides in a soft, golden glow.
You don’t speak up when Bo shifts in his seat, edging closer to you so your knees touch. The car is small – there’s no reason to make a fuss for what could just be an honest mistake. Until his fingertips brush against the crown of your kneecap.
“Kinda irresponsible, really,” he says, his voice lowering. “Leavin’ a little lady as cute as you unaccompanied.”
Would it be rude to ask him to stop talking? Or at least to move his hand? His fingers are definitely rubbing the inside of your knee now, his gaze hot in a way that proves he knows exactly what he’s doing.
You’re just about to say something, when he ‘casually’ shifts in his seat, lifting his trouser leg high enough for you to see the handle of a knife tucked into his heavy boot. Your blood runs cold and you press your lips together. His hand slides further up your leg until his whole palm is resting on your thigh.
“I know if it were me,” he purrs, “I wouldn’t let you outta my sight for a moment.”
Your fingers are shaking, your skin beginning to prickle.
“Please . . .” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath.
He grins. “Please what, princess?”
“I . . .” you swallow around the lump rising in your throat. “Please don’t hurt me.”
He laughs. “Then you’ll do what I say, won’t cha?”
He eases the knife from his boot and pockets the guard protecting the blade, tracing the dull edge down the soft skin of your thigh. One false move, one flick of his wrist, and you’d be bleeding out all over the car floor. He leans across and uses the blade to dislodge the straps of your dress.
“Let’s see them gorgeous tits,” he says. Reaching across, he pulls at your neckline, revealing the strapless bra you’re wearing underneath. “Oh, honey – d’you wear that just for me?” Slipping his fingers inside the blue lace cup, he releases one of your breasts and squeezes roughly. You whimper, clapping a hand over your mouth when the knife twitches in his hand.
“Look at these pretty little nipples,” he flicks his thumb over one, smiling when it hardens at his touch. “Why, they’re already pleased to see me, aren’t they?”
Cursing your treacherous body, you shut your eyes and wince as he scoops your other breast free, jiggling the soft flesh.
“God damn, these puppies look sweet enough to eat,” he moans, leaning in and lapping at one nipple with his tongue. You cringe away from him, gasping when he takes a firm grip on the back of your head.
“Now,” he murmurs, “you’re gonna come sit on my lap, right? We’re gonna have a little fun. Easy, nice and slow – don’t wanna draw too much attention now, do we?
Hating your own cowardice, you shift from your seat and turn, letting Bo settle you against his clothed erection. You can feel it through the fabric, digging into your ass. The car stays at an inconspicuous angle, the cars below, above or opposite you none the wiser as to what’s going on.
Bo keeps one hand on your breast, squeezing and pinching, the other strays further downwards. The knife is stowed away back into his boot, but you already know better than to make a grab for it.
“Let’s see just how much of a good girl y’really are,” he whispers in your ear, teeth biting at the side of your neck. A shiver runs through you, and you can tell he feels it by the way his lips curl against your skin. The tips of his fingers brush your panties and you close your eyes in shame at how damp they are. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, and the way he’s sucking and teething at your skin is only making it worse. Nudging aside the silky fabric, you gasp when his thick, calloused fingers trace the outline of your pussy.
“Ahh, there we go,” he shifts a little, spreading your thighs further apart with his knees. “Just look how wet y’are for me. You’re just a little slut, ain’t cha?”
His fingers push past your folds, rubbing at your clit and making your legs tremble. He slips in up to the first knuckles of his index and middle fingers, his thumb circling your clit with a practiced movement.
“Y’like the way my fingers feel in you, you little whore?” he growls in your ear. “Fuck, you’re soakin’ wet. Bet you wish you could take my hard fuckin’ cock in that sweet little cunt, huh? Ride me ‘til I fill you up with cum, you dirty fuckin’ slut.”
He forces another finger inside you, tilting his wrist to allow them to sink in right to the hilt. You stretch around his digits, your slick walls inviting him in further. Why is this happening? Why are you so turned on? Your heart flutters in the cage of your chest and you bite your lip to keep from moaning.
“Thaaaat’s it,” Bo croons, quickening pace. “You love it, don’t you, you little whore? You love havin’ my fingers all up in your cunt.”
You shake your head and the hand molesting your breast takes a firm hold of your jaw. He turns your head to face him and your lips are assaulted – his tongue staining your mouth with the faint taste of tobacco. Your pussy is liquid in his hands, the warm whispers of pleasure building steadily in your lower stomach.
“You’re gonna fuckin’ cum for me,” he growls. “Y’hear that, bitch? You’re gonna cum on my fingers like a slut. C’mon, gimme that goddamn cunt. Show how much you love bein’ fingered like a cheap whore.”
Bitch. Slut. Whore. The poisonous words hang in the air around you.
“Tell me you wanna cum,” he demands. “Beg me to make you cum.”
“I— I can’t . . .” you whimper. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you stooped to that level of indignity. Then he stops and the sky comes crashing down around your ears. “F-fuck—!”
“Tell me what I wanna hear, baby.” He moves his fingers again at a brutal pace, the friction against both your clit and G-spot almost too much to bear. It’s growing, reaching such a pitch as to make your ears ring.
“Fuck, please . . .” you screw your eyes shut against what you feel is the judgment of the world. “Please . . . make me cum—”
“Say my name, bitch,” he growls. “Tell me who this fuckin’ cunt belongs to.”
“Bo! Y-you . . . my . . . it belongs to you . . . oh God, Bo, please, please—”
At the last moment, as you feel your walls contracting, he shoves two fingers in your mouth, grunting with satisfaction as you bite down to prevent yourself crying out from the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced. He chuckles darkly in your ear, his fingers making an obscenely wet sound as they withdraw from you.
He allows you to reassemble yourself before the wheel has completed its final loop. You run a hand through your tangled hair and wipe away the smears of mascara beneath your eyes, while he sucks the shining fluid from his fingers with apparent relish. The last few drops, however, he spares for you. You gag around the fingers he forces into your mouth, tasting the tangy flavour of your own juices.
When the attendant lets you out, Bo gestures for you to go first, like the Southern gentleman one might presume him to be at first glance. You can see your date waiting for you, a stick of cotton candy in one hand. As you reach him, he watches Bo leave the car behind you.
“Who was that?” he asks, handing you the pink cloud of spun sugar.
“No-one,” you shrug as casually as you can manage. You could tell him, now you’re free from the cage. But you don’t. And you never will.
Grinning like a cat in a dairy barn, Bo secures his cap atop his head. Catching your eye one last time, he winks, nods, and disappears into the crowd.
~
Inspired by a soundgasm piece by @gentlemanswitch.
#bo sinclair#bo sinclair x reader#house of wax#horror#slashers#slasher lover#slasher fandom#slasher community#slasher x reader#slasher fanfiction#slasher fanfic#lester sinclair#vincent sinclair
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Set me Free
Summary: Part Two to Let Me In - After a night of being an asshole, getting drunk and then falling asleep when you were just finally getting into the mood. The Captain wakes up finding himself in somewhat of a pickle.
Read Part One
Pairing: Captain Syverson x Reader (You)
Word count: 4.1K
Warnings: Explicit Smut, Male Sub / FemDom, bondage, sex toys (woman playing with a vibrator), oral preformed on a male and a female (face-sitting), power play, teasing, unprotected sex, bodily fluids. All the good stuff.
A/N: SmuttyWeekend Commences! Guys this is my first MaleSub and I was struggling with it being a FemSub. So please gimmie feedback. 😥😥😥😥 Many thanks to @agniavateira who edits my work.
Title: Set me Free
The big military grunt is lying in the middle of an ocean of navy blue sheets, utterly nude as the sunlight beams through the window and kisses his rigid abs with a warm, golden haze. From all the men who ever fell unconscious in your bed, Syverson has to be the most delicious treat of them all.
Taut muscles stretch across an incredibly large, triangle-shaped upper body and thick, solid thighs. His glowing skin is covered by a dusting of black hairs which flow from his wide chest to his torso, leading to his delightfully enormous cock that nestles between a bundle of dark curls.
He is the epitome of masculinity, especially with that thick beard which he refuses to shave.
You sit on your small IKEA chair, lounging lazily with your ankles crossed together while sipping your latte macchiato and enjoying your new morning view.
The big man usually sleeps around 3 to 4 “generous” hours if he’s lucky to get any proper sleep at all, and not be consumed by night terrors. It’s something you’ve learnt to deal with, at least sort of. But with the amount of alcohol he consumed, he’s been out of it even after you woke up.
You indulge yourself looking at his sleeping form. Watching as his chest gently rises and falls and his cock semi-hardens from the stream of blood that gravitates to his loins.
If only you could wake up to this impressionistic vision of beauty every day for the rest of your life. But no, you had to go and get yourself involved with a military bloke, a captain, nonetheless.
Finally, he begins shifting on the mattress, the muscles of his chest flex inward and his stomach sucks in, followed by a low roar emitted from his defined lips.
There is much of the beast in him, sometimes even more than the man.
You capture your lower lip beneath your teeth, waiting with mirth and anticipation for him to open his beautiful blue eyes.
His face curls with what you assume to be a mild sensation of pain. The strong scent of whiskey wafts from his body as if he bathed in a brewery. You wouldn’t be surprised if the captain is nursing a minor hangover, which you have the perfect cure for.
The metal bars shake and then thud against the wall as he foolishly attempts to move his arms. Sharp, ringing sounds thunder in your ears as the small chain of his cuffs grind against the peg. You smile, placing your empty cup on the study, watching your man as he wakes from his deep slumber to find himself in captivity.
“What in the n…”
His eyes blink open. He observes the leather cuffs around his wrists and begins moving around wildly, attempting to free himself by shaking his hands back and forth with force. The bed creaks and shifts beneath his weight. A slight tension rises in your chest; a man as strong as Syverson might actually break the bars and the bed too, possibly.
You clear your throat to redirect his attention, only to be greeted by a furious glare.
“Morning, Captain.” you hail, your voice smooth and relaxed, contradicting Syverson’s blazing temper. A mixture of daze and anger drapes his face as he focuses on your sight.
You wonder, does he even remember the little performance from last night? Because you sure as hell are going to remember that for the rest of your life.
He angrily narrows his blue eyes, giving you a menacing look. His jaw clenches hard beneath the rough thicket of his beard.
Syverson is a force to be reckoned with; he is not a man who enjoys these types of silly games. Everything about him is hard, down to business, and with him saying the final word in the conversation.
Too bad that right now he is no longer in a position of power.
“What the hell is this?”
His eyes take you in, gliding down the sheer black night robe you’re wearing, intentionally left untied. A hint of the roundness of your breasts winks at him through the open slit and the very outlines of your nipples tease through the translucent fabric. There is a flinch in his cock as more blood stirs down to fill his organ at the sight of your divine body.
You decide to step up your game, placing your legs on the floor and spreading them to allow a glimpse of your ripe little peach. Syverson attempts to lift his head and get a better look while your giggles fill the room.
“This, my darling, is your punishment for one, being a complete asshole and embarrassing me in front of your friends-”
Syverson gives you a slow eye-roll and attempts to fight the cuffs again to no avail. “Je-sus, woman! You’re still at this? Fine. Remove these cuffs and I’ll give you my very ardent apology.”
You chuckle and shake your head, rising from your chair and moving toward the bed. The pink silicone toy Syverson bought for you hangs from between your manicured fingernails as you wave it around casually. Sy follows your movements with the diligence of a trained special forces soldier, learning every possible detail as if you’re the enemy right now.
Might as well be.
“What are you doing, woman?” he speaks slowly, his voice holding a tad of a warning as you climb onto the bed and settle yourself between his feet. You sit straddled, ankles folded beneath your behind, letting your juicy cunt to be openly presented to the helpless man.
You can hear the low pitched growl rumbling in his chest, like an approaching storm. It makes your skin prickle and your lungs squeeze inside your ribs. Even bound to your bed, he effortlessly holds a brooding presence. A huge Texas bear, all muscles and dripping of control. Every time you sleep together, he pins you down and charges your body as if you’re some target that needed conquering.
He never leaves you a fighting chance. Not up til now.
“Two,” you emphasize the word, lazily trailing the tip of the toy against your inner thigh. His eyes follow every movement, his jaw locked tightly. “- you left me wet and waiting last night, after giving me a very nice singing performance.”
The big man scowls as the vague memory of banging at your door starts sinking in. By the look on his face, he hates every single moment of it ever happening.
Probably prefers blaming you rather than taking responsibility.
“Don’t be like that, Texas.” you lick your lips, offering him a cheerful smile. “You have a gorgeous singing voice.”
“Final warnin’, kitten.”
You click your tongue and smile mischievously. Discarding the toy at his foot, you move on your knees, giving him a vixen grin before beginning to crawl forward. The delicate material of your gown caresses his naked skin as you snake your way between his open legs until you are at his pelvis, facing his very solid cock.
Your nimble fingers reach to grasp him, barely managing to circle his generous width. A low groan forms in his throat as you squeeze him roughly and run your hand up and down.
Syverson looks mesmerizing, the temptation to take a polaroid photo and have this moment forever imprinted in chemicals and light tickles your brain. More than anything, you ponder at the war that wages in his mind:the conflict between wanting back his control and enjoying the way your hand kneads him.
“This is an ego thing, isn’t it?” you ask him while licking your lips, inching your head closer and closer to the swollen head.
His chest rises and sinks urgently as his breath becomes heavier. Involuntarily, he bounces his groin, his body begging for your mouth.
You allow the tip to graze you, collecting a few drops of pre-cum on the plush of your lips, letting it spread on the velvet flesh. “I bet they teach you how to withstand torture and questioning in case you’ll fall captive.”
“Not that type of torture,” he replies and then gasps as your tongue dips at the small hole in his cock. You push against it, tasting the salty drops before circling your tongue around the head. His teetering gasps and the way his biceps swell larger when he moves in his cuffs are enough to make you throb with arousal.
No wonder Syverson likes to be the one in control; seeing someone so helpless and bound at your mercy is quite the aphrodisiac. This is especially true when it’s a man like Syverson, a brooding hulk who weighs more than twice your size.
Ironically, Sy doesn’t even need to yell or use his fists to be intimidating. He can talk anyone into submission with his voice. He has this energy about him, a confidence that makes men, even who are just as big, to cower with fear.
Even now, as he lies in captivity, his eyes are shooting daggers at you, sending you a clear message: “You’re goin’ to regret this, darlin’.”The punishment is probably going to involve you being unable to walk for a week, but you’re certain that it’s worth every second of him being subdued to your bed.
Ever so slowly, your tongue glides down his length, tracing the ridges and the thick tendons that throb against your tongue. Motion-synced with the captain’s forced moans, you roll your tongue and slide it all the way back up.
You pause, staring at him as he pants, eyes hazy with lust, his abs sucked in. There’s a strained anticipation on his face, begging for the wet cavern of your mouth, but he never utters a word, only sucking in his lower lip with desperation. Your big army gruff doesn’t beg.
He“ain’t no pooch like them city boys.”
Pumping his cock with one hand, you give him a mischievous grin while pressing your cheek against the muscle of his thigh, feeling it flex beneath your touch. Every sinew of his body is straining, anxious for pleasure and release.
“You want to fuck my mouth, baby?” he releases a low growl, his eyes narrowing at you, his teeth grinding together. “You know I do, so put that damn mouth of yours to good use.”
Your nails trail around his thigh, tickling him feverishly. You watch how he jolts against your touch while one hand still squeezes his cock, making torturous pumps that are too slow and moderated to bring him closer to what he needs.
“Yeah, you want your big fat cock inside my mouth?” you raise your face to his towering erection, your lips part open slowly. You leaned down to lick him up and down before biting onto him, only to watch how he spasms with ache.
“You know I do, kitten.”
To your disappointment, he still remains composed, despite the anger and arousal that spikes his blood. It infuriates you; you want him to beg, to say he is sorry for being such an idiot and for ruining your first night together ever since he returned.
You squeeze him hard enough to make him grunt and descend to devour his cock again. Your lips wrap around him, tasting the bitter salt on the lush of your tongue before sucking him hard, just the way he likes it. Your throat relaxes to take him deeper, deep enough to hear those mellow groans and watch as he throws his head back, blissful at the way your warmth surrounds him.
You suck harder, working up and down his shaft, humming with him inside your mouth while your hand twirls and tugs at the base of his cock. The vibration of your hums makes him grunt, and those grunts and moans are the sweetest melodies to your ears.
It’s easy to lose yourself in the sensation, in these sounds and the way he fills your mouth. You’re in love with him, your heart flutters in the thought of making him feel good, especially since you’re forced to spend so much time apart. It wrecks your heart every time, yet the thought of not having the captain in your life at all is unacceptable.
He longed for you too, you are certain of it. And not just for your mouth and the way his cock reaches the edge of your throat while you pump in and out. He has a shit way of showing that, being such a hardass and saying “I don’t do romance, darlin’” while slapping your ass as if you were some broodmare.
But the raging ocean in his eyes is enough to say all those words he could never utter.
You hear his low voice cracking and sense the swelling of his cock against your tongue. Quickly, you withdraw with a loud wet pop as his cock exits your mouth.
“Fuck!” you hear him utter, the cuffs dangling against the bar while he frowns at you. “Why did ya stop, kitten?”
Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you lift your head, allowing a sneer to linger on your lips like something out of a horror film. You arch your back and crawl on top of his body, your knees bracing themselves at each side of his wide frame, and your nails scratching the slight fur of his skin.
“You’re not coming in my mouth, dear.”
You climb onto the big bear until finally, you are sitting on his chest. You slightly moan at the softness of his hairy chest that tickles the drenched spot between your thighs. Syverson grits his teeth, his jaw pushed forward, eyes red with rage altering between your naked breasts and your dominating glare. The soothing palm you press against his coarse cheek does nothing but humiliate him, which of course, makes you press your lips and coo at him tauntingly.
“Still not going to apologize?”
“Untie me first and I’ll give you the apology you deserve,” he demands, still struggling to remain in control but you can see the fuzzy haze of arousal in his eyes, the way his lips part and his breath becomes rigid. He can smell you, he senses the wetness of your mound as you sit on his chest. It makes the animal in its cage become enraged.
You shake your head, sighing with false disappointment and lift yourself to your knees, carefully targeting yourself above his face with preparation.
“I consider this a prize, Sy,” you murmur, looking down onto the slightly scarred face of your soldier who now returns a fascinated gaze to you. “I know how much you love to eat my pussy.”
He scoffs at you yet still licks his lips with anticipation as you lower yourself onto his inviting mouth. This was always his thing. There was no doubt that Syverson mastered the art of oral sex as another form of domination. Yes, he was an attentive lover. Making his lady squirm with ecstasy brought him joy, yet it was also another way he controlled you.
This is going to be tricky, yet you’re devoted to turning his little game around.
“You better make me come, Sy,” you warn, landing your pelvis onto his lips and releasing a deep moan as you feel the warmth of the captain’s skilful mouth around your mound.
“F-u-c-k!” you utter loudly, placing your hands above the bars for leverage. His velvet tongue meets your cunt, drawing wet circles around the seam and collecting your juices before plunging into you with earnest devotion. You gasp and throw your head back, clenching yourself around him and riding his bearded jaw.
“Like it when I fuck your mouth, Captain?” you call out breathless, trying to mimic the way he speaks to you when he shoves his cock down your throat on the occasion and fucks your mouth.
“Yes, like that, thrust your tongue inside me.”
You gasp the command at him, moving harder, your clit brushing against the moustache of his beard, eliciting a tickling sensation that stimulates you to the point of losing the ability to speak coherent words. Yet, you claw your talons onto control, your knuckles turning white around the edge of the headboard as you fist it in your sweaty palms and buck your hips and ride his face.
“Yes!!! Fuck! Like this! Suck it, harder!”
Even in his subdued position, Sy sustains every inch of mastery, eating you out as if you tasted of heaven. His tongue glides between your slit and your clit, rolling across your delicate nub. The sobs you make only urge him to increase the pressure around your clit and thrust his tongue harder. And just when you think you are close enough, the bastard mumbles something against your lips and the vibration of his bass throws you across the edge.
You come violently, slamming the headboard against the wall and pushing yourself hard onto his face. You can feel yourself soaking his beard yet he continues to lick you dry, sending slight aftershocks through your body.
Breathing heavily, you slowly climb off his face, looking at him as he glares at you darkly. You can see the little cracks appearing behind his eyes, his dominative nature stretching to the point of pain. He wasn’t amused to begin with but now he is close to being berserk.
Still sitting on his chest, you turn your sweaty chin across your shoulder to glimpse at his tortured cock which now looks painfully red and desperate for some attention.
“Are you done playing games?”
There it is, the thing you’ve yearned for. Despair, helplessness. His brow is covered with sweat and his feet kick at the mattress. Oddly enough, you hardly care anymore if he apologizes or not. You know he won’t, it’s not because he doesn’t care, it’s because it’s all part of the battle.
And if anything, Syverson hates losing.
“Not even close,” you answer while you crawl backwards, maintaining fierce eye contact with your enemy. Your glare returns the fight which is now escalated to a whole new level. Like a cougar ready for assault, you snake yourself to the starting point. Your hand meets with the pink toy, which is laid just where you left it.
His eyebrow crooks up, looking at you suspiciously and somewhat concerned. “What are you doing?”
You hold the toy firmly in your hand while spreading your legs across each of his. Your index finger smoothes over the length of the silicone toy, flirting with the on and off button against your tip.
“Remember how you told everyone at the bar that I fuck myself while you watch on Skype?”
“Stop it,” he shoots a warning glare, his neck stretching up with frustration. You tilt your head, puckering your lips sweetly into a pout before flicking the toy on, letting it vibrate in your grasp.
“For fuck’s sake, woman!” he growls and his eyes widen as you position the toy against your clit and instantly begin gasping as it brings you to incredible pleasure in less than a second.
“Oh god, baby!!!!” you gasp, closing your eyes and curling your toes. You massage your clit slowly, letting the vibration coax you just enough before the sensation turns painful. You slip the entire length of the toy inside you while screaming loud enough for your neighbours to hear.
“Sy!!!!” his name is on your lips while you drive the vibrator in and out, angling it at the right spots that make you mewl like a whore. Your eyes flick open to glimpse at the man who stares at you, eyes drenched with hopeless desire, mouth gaping open as his cock flinches with pain and need. The fact that he cannot have you right now is throwing the animal in him to a new length of frustration he never knew before. He squirms on the bed, throwing his head back and then shaking it at you, his lips pressed to a thin line beneath his messy beard.
“Fuck this, I am sorry! Okay?!”
You pump the toy in and out and yip while your finger ticks the button for a higher speed. “Not… good… enough!” you cry out, feeling your walls shuddering. You look at Syverson’s cock, imagining it inside you instead, his wider girth, the warmth of his body.
You need him, not a toy to replace him and still, you come, your body clenching around the soft silicone.
“Will you stop with the games already!? I said I was sorry!” he shouts at you with his face on the verge of panic. His eyes were glossy with anxiety and misery. If you weren’t as desperate to make love to him, if only you didn’t miss to feel him, sunken at your depth, you would have been able to go for hours.
You chuckle viciously, brushing a sticky strand of hair from your forehead while finally shifting yourself to straddle his hips. His chest heaves with eagerness, his breath loud and urgent as your fingers seizes his cock one more time and you lift your hips. He growls once you lubricate his erection against your slit before taking him into your core.
Ever so slowly you let yourself fall on his shaft, taking him inch by inch, enjoying the pure harmony that releases from both of your throats.
“Fuck!!!!” Sy shouts, his frustration finally being answered by the slippery heat of your taut canal. Not stopping, you sink down until the soft edge of your ass rests neatly on his tight balls. Until he is bottomed out inside you, pushed against the rim of your womb.
Painfully engorged your organs throb against one another, blood pumping fast with fury, yet you remain still. You give Syverson one last cruel smirk of triumph.
“Oh come on, woman!!!!” he grunts and bucks his hips, making you rise with him as he lifts you from the bed with ease. “I’m sorry, okay? I love you, I didn’t mean to say that stupid thing. I am just a jarhead, I don’t know how to be different.”
The evil grin quickly fades from your face. For a second, your heart beats abnormally fast while your eyes feel moist. A joyous spasm runs through the knot in your stomach.
“You love me?”
Sy looks at you with a deep frown, the usual fierceness his eyes hold is now replaced by something as fragile as a butterfly wing. You know better than to touch it.
He never said it before, not to you, not to any other woman.
You are flooded by a whirlpool of emotions, hitting you all at once, assaulting your heart and your loins. Your senses are at a complete loss, forgetting all about the stupid battle for control. You want nothing but to have him, to fuck him until you cry out of love. Lifting yourself up, you begin to ride him with incredible force. Hips rising up and down on his girth, nails digging into his torso and sliding up his chest.
“Sy!” You cry out his name, feeling full of him. He groans with amazement, finally praised by the sweetness of your body which he achingly longed for in months.
“Yes, baby,” he calls for you, jerking his hips to meet you as you sink down and throw your head back. “Ride me, fuck me, darlin’.”
You roll your hips and dance on his cock vigorously, your back arching while you sing with ecstasy. His cock is swelling inside you, locked between your closing walls as they attempt to drain him of everything he has. You know it won’t last long yet right now you don’t care, you don’t care if he comes without you.
Because he loves you, the warmth that spreads from your heart onward is just as good.
Yet still, you come, grinding your clit against his pubic bone while tears spring down your cheeks. You hear his voice calling your name in a blur, throwing an onslaught of praises before he lifts you up with his body.
All spent, you collapse flat onto his body, humming to yourself as the hot sprout of his semen fills your womb. Your head rests on his chest, listening to the beating drum within while your fingers draw circles onto his skin.
“I love you,” you say it back, slightly tilting your head to meet his eyes. He smiles at you relaxed, finally released, his breath is still irregular, small gasps of air break between his lips.
“Now uncuff me, kitten, let’s get some breakfast.”
You lift your head and slide further up so your face is levelled with his, your fingers play with his beard while you observe him.
“I am not sure I am done switching just yet.”
_____________________________________________________
disclaimer: I don’t own Sand Castle or Captain Syverson
#Smut: Captain Syverson#Captain Syverson#Henry Cavill#Captain Syverson Fanfiction#Sand Castle#Netflix Sand Castle#Captain Syverson x Reader#Henry Cavill x Reader
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We All Fall From Heaven
Hello my little constellations! @mammonrights and I are bringing you a fun little treat! We’re collabing on We All Fall From Heaven, a Yandere House of Lamentation series c: That being said, please be aware of the tags, and enjoy! I also will not be adding my usual tag list to this due to the themes involved, so please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!
WARNINGS: YANDERE THEMES, DUBCON/NONCON, Abusive/Obsessive Relationships, Branding/Marking, Choking and of course, SMUT ABOUND~ Please be sure to mind the tags <3
You belatedly thought you should have been more nervous being an exchange student in the Devildom, but it was hard to be when everyone was so welcoming. It was a little disorienting, suddenly being thrust into a different place with several big, attractive people waiting for you. But Diavolo welcomed you with open arms.
You weren't even the first, apparently there had been a regular human exchange student before you. She had even come back for a second year before finding her happy ending with an angel. Simeon, they called him, and though you thought you saw anger on the faces of your hosts, it was quickly brushed off as they explained what the next year would look like for you.
You were welcomed into their home warmly by all except Mammon. He had huffed off after Lucifer told him your room arrangements weren't up for negotiation, which you hadn't quite understood. You were in awe of your room, comfy and full of lush vegetation. One of the other brothers- Levi, if you remembered correctly- laughed and said he was still hung up on the normie that was here before you. None of the other brothers seemed too concerned about it, so you let the issue drop and focused on enjoying your time here.
The first few weeks passed quickly, especially with all the brothers eager to spend time with you. Asmo was quick to talk you into weekly at-home spa dates, Beel took you out to all of his favorite restaurants, Mammon eventually warmed up to you and roped you into his schemes- which rarely worked but were too fun to turn down, Levi was quick to drag you down the rabbit holes of Devildom anime and games, Satan offered a quiet space for reading and someone to study with, and Lucifer… while he was more aloof than the other brothers, he still took time out of his schedule to enjoy downtime with you. There was one, though, that was glued to your side from day one.
Belphie. He hung off your arm everywhere you went, and if it was anyone else, you'd be concerned at how easily he convinced you to start taking naps with him. But he was the Avatar of Sloth, and he curled up next to you so sweetly, who wouldn't want to lay next to him after seeing him sleep so peacefully? He always made sure you had pleasant dreams and woke up feeling rested. So you let him hang off you as you walked the halls of RAD and the house, and you weren't even surprised when you awoke to Belphie cuddled up to your side in your bed. He had told you he slept better when he was next to someone anyways.
It was one of the few times that you weren't used to prop Belphie up as you walked home from RAD. He had gone home early to nap, but the other brothers were called to an emergency student council meeting. You were sent home with the instruction to wake Belphie and send him to the meeting, and you were a bit uneasy with the idea of waking Belphie on your own. You had heard the stories…
You found him in the attic, one of the nap spots he had shown you after you had grown close. It was probably the third or fourth place you had checked, and all the stairs paired with the long day had made you a bit tired. Seeing Belphie all curled up on the bed made you want to lay next to him, but Lucifer’s wrath was more pressing.
“Belphie-boo, you gotta get up.” You crawled up next to him and shook his shoulder lightly. He wasn’t even stirring from his sleep, so you took the chance to run your fingers through his hair. He always liked that when he was awake, so maybe he would wake in a better mood this way. His hair was silky under your touch, and you noticed one bleary eye open to you. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Lucifer sent me to tell you there’s a student council meeting you need to get to.” This seemed to wake him up. You weren’t sure why, as you had seen him sleep through the meetings multiple times.
"So, you're saying you came home by yourself?" Belphie sat up and clutched at the hand that was in his hair. You nodded, a bit nervous at the glint in his eyes. Your nerves only worsened as he began chuckling, pushing you down to the plush of the mattress. "You silly human, coming home all alone to wake a demon." He crawled over you as he spoke, caging you in.
"The last one left us for an angel. We used to be angels, too, you know? But we weren't good enough for her to stay. You won't leave us, though, will you?" You froze, uncertain of how to respond. You loved it here, you really did, but you had family to return to.
“I won’t let you anyways. Especially now that I’ve got you alone.” His hand played with the tie of your uniform, slowly pulling it undone. The buttons unhooked under his deft fingers, revealing your bare collarbone to him. “I messed up bad with the last one. I was locked in here for so long, and I didn’t have long enough to convince them to stay. I won’t make the same mistake twice.” His head dipped to your neck, laying a delicate kiss to the sensitive skin.
“Belphie, I-” Your hands tried to push at his chest, but he easily caught them in his hands, transferring the one wrist to the other hand, pinning you to the bed.
"Don't be so coy now, you've let me into your bed so easily up til now. What's going a little bit further?" You could feel his grin on your shoulder as he chuckled. The warmth of his breath on your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you tried to fight the heat collecting in your stomach. "I've seen the way you look at all of us. Just stay with me and Beel, we'll treat you like a princess. Most of the time, at least." His free hand took to your shirt again, unbuttoning faster than you thought the Avatar of Sloth could move. You struggled in earnest when you were exposed to his gaze, dark and wanting. Part of you knew, knew that he was right and that you had no hope of fighting against a demon.
With one hand, Belphie had stripped you of all clothes save for your underwear. His fingers traced the pattern of your bra absentmindedly as he leaned back to look at you. "You look so cute like this, shaking underneath me." Before you could retort, his mouth was on yours. His kiss was lazy, more aligned with the Belphie you knew instead of the demon atop you. You were so comforted by this that you hadn't fought him when his tongue softly traced the seam of your lips, exploring your taste like ambrosia.
While you were distracted by his leisurely kissing, his hands roamed your body, sneaking under the hem of your panties. You couldn’t help the pathetic whine as he carefully ran a finger through your slick. “Who are you fighting, little human? Everyone but you seems to know you want this. Even your body knows. Just give in.” It was hard to refute him when his fingers started plunging into you at an unforgiving pace. His hands seemed to be working at a different wavelength, as his sleepy kisses were still being peppered over your neck and face.
Tears pricked at your eyes, your head unable to reconcile the Belphie you knew with the one currently pistoning his fingers in and out of your heat. You barely even struggled as Belphie ripped your bra from your chest, your panties following soon after. "You know what's funny? We all had pacts with her, and she still left. You won't, though, I won't let you leave. You'll learn to love me. Then we can live together: you, me, and Beel." Energy seemed to course through him as he rushed out of his clothes. The most you could do was rise on shaking arms while he undressed, but the tell-tale sound of Belphie morphing into his demon form told you that you'd never even reach the door.
"You belong to me now." He loomed over your body, bare chest pressed to your back as your shuddering arms threatened to collapse underneath you. A gasp passed through your lips as his dick slid through your dripping slit and pressed in without warning. The breath was pushed from your lungs as he thrust in, your arms finally giving out as you landed face-first in the tangle of blankets. Belphie only pushed you down further, spreading your legs out to allow him to thrust deeper into your heat. You scrambled to get breath into your lungs before he bucked into you again, all the air leaving you with a keening cry.
"You're so cute when you struggle, you know that, right?" He cooed above you, dragging a hand through your hair much too gently for how he ravaged you. His head dropped to the back of your neck as he sped up, and you were vaguely grateful that he at least made sure you were prepped beforehand. Your hands tugged at the blanket, bunching it under your hips and unwillingly propping yourself up to meet his thrusts. With the angle you had inadvertently placed yourself at, Belphie's cock was relentlessly dragging at your sweet spot. He lifted his head to lick a line up the curve of your shoulder. "You sound so sweet, screaming for me, little human. Better than any lullaby. I promise you'll love me. The last human may have gotten my pact, but you're going to be special. You're going to get my mark." His hand drifted from the painful grip on your hips to delicately wrap around your throat. "Should I put it here? My brothers might get jealous if they see it." His manic giggle reverberated through your skin as he pressed his lips to your shoulder. His pace was relentless, desperate as he whined against you. You let out a choked sob at the thought of his brothers seeing his mark on you, which only seemed to rile Belphie up. "No, I want it to be somewhere secret. Just for you and me. And Beel, I can share when I want to." His hand slowly trailed down your body, absentmindedly groping at your breast before following the curve of your hip down.
His fingers dipped to your swelling cunt, swiping over your clit a few times until you started squirming against his hold. "Such a good little human, such a good little pet." He cooed in your ear, the loving tone in his voice a chilling contrast from the snap of his hips against your ass. His hand finally ceased their journey on the top of your thigh. "I'm going to lay my head on your lap every night and know that my mark is right there." The glee in his voice sent a chill through your veins before fire flooded your body. His hand burned against your thigh, a pure red hot agony. You clenched against his length, pulling a lewd moan from him. "Oh, such a good girl, take it. Take my mark, take everything. You're never leaving me now."
You were so thankful that the pain receded that you didn’t fight the crest of pleasure you rode on after. Belphie groaned, his sweaty forehead braced against your back as he flooded your pussy with his essence. His cum stained your insides, dripping down past where you were joined.
Belphie fell back onto the bed, an exhausted sigh filling the air. He pulled you to lay next to him, and you sought the solace of his familiar touch. You hid your face in his shoulder as he spoke soft affirmations in your hair.
"Hush, the worst part is over. You're mine now, and me and Beel will take such good care of you." The kiss on your crown was too soft, too loving, too much like the Belphie you thought you knew. His hands drew shapes against your bare back, and you hated that it calmed you down. You should be running, you should be looking for one of his brothers to help. But Belphie had been your closest friend here… Who's to say their reaction would be any better.
Belphie gently extracted you from his hold before gathering his clothes and slipping back into them without a care in the world. “I have to go to this meeting before Lucifer punishes us both.” Even after all Belphie had done, the threat of Lucifer’s punishment still made you scared. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He moved to hold you to his chest, laying a soft kiss to your lips, like a lover would.
As Belphie’s hand traced the delicate lines of the sigil inked into your thigh, you finally realized. For the first time, you truly understood you were surrounded by demons. You hadn’t known what you were signed up for.
#obey me x reader#belphie x reader#belphegor x reader#obey me brothers x reader#lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#levi x reader#asmo x reader#asmodeus x reader#satan x reader#beel x reader#beelzebub x reader#WAFFH#nyx writes#collab#tw: yandere#tw: abuse#tw: dubcon#tw: noncon#tw: branding
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Happy Thirsty Thursday! 🍑🍆💦
I’m not sure if you’re up for writing for Nikolai but I saw this prompt and I just thought of him.
“you’re so cute I just want to eat you out”
“don’t you mean up?”
“no”
I Wish I Was The Moon (Nikolai x Fem!Reader)
Word Count: 1914
Warnings: Oh delightful full moon inspired smut
You floated along the lake on your back where you relished both the silence and solitude. The dark sky above you housed millions of stars hidden behind the smog of Manhattan where you lived. Nowhere in Sway Lake smelled like piss or garbage. Free from angry faces and graffiti. You were blessed to get away for the week.
You weren't certain if anything was hazardous to you as you swam naked not far from shore. You were so lost in your senses, ears underwater causing everything to be still except the faraway frogs and random cry of some bird. It prevented you from hearing the soft swish of someone swimming beside you.
“Privyet rybka” a deep Russian voice broke through the silence.
Startled all you could muster was a scream as you held your hands over your breasts and sank under the water. Bobbing back up, you began to tread water hoping you were far below the surface to hide your nudity.
“I promise I am here in peace. The USSR is no more,” he held his hands up in surrender.
“What.. What are you doing here?” you asked nervously.
“Is this not a free lake?” You assume he means public, but you nod in confirmation.
“Fair,” you're exasperated but drop pretenses and tread a bit harder. Your naked chest out of the water now catching moonlight. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
“I have business to attend to. For the Sways.” It's the first time you notice a canoe with a gas can perched on the front. “But I saw this gorgeous, naked woman just floating in middle of lake. I had to stop. Like a siren’s call.”
You rolled your eyes but somehow felt heat as it crept up your cheeks. Your eyes had adjusted and you looked at him properly. His wet, dark hair plastered to his forehead. Sharp jaw and full lips. Eyes that reflected the moon and seemed to stare right into you. Muscular arms circled languidly in the water attached to broad shoulders. He was, you lacked real words, beautiful.
“I have made you speechless?” his thick eyebrow arched. His eyes moved towards openly staring at your bare breasts.
“No. What business could you possibly have with the camp? And why the hell are YOU naked?” there was a giggle in your voice. His shorts were hanging over the side of the canoe.
“I thought you may be more comfortable if you weren't alone?” It was a question. The excuse didn't make any sense. Your look challenged him. “Fine! Easier to move naked than with wet shorts on, yes? I need to run and don't get caught, I go quicker without clothes.”
“You're out of your fucking mind if you think no one will catch you. They party til dawn,” you gesture towards a revelry away from where you had left your clothes.
“I will blend in. How many you think are doing,” he paused and thought, “HAVING sex right now? Too drunk and horny to notice one more naked person at a party. Besides maybe I'm a siren too? I've already had sex with one of them.”
“Only one? Whatever. You do what you have to, I never saw you. You're a ghost,” you started to swim back to shore. Annoyed at your peace deferred but also at how turned on you were by his voice. His face.
Your back to him, you picked up some speed. Unfortunately, fortunately? He followed and caught up easily. “Let me at least ride you back to the beach? Then I go in from the side and back and they'll never see me.”
You snorted and covered your mouth, “Ride me.”
“Hey! I have only been speaking English a few years. Forgive me,” there was a laughter in his voice too. “Come. I'll get you back, and maybe you'll help me?”
“Commit a felony? No thanks, I'm trying to have a career as a nurse.”
“Oh good!” he turned to swim back to his canoe.
He pulled himself up over the side and you couldn't help but stare at his naked body as he did so. Lithe like a swimmer. You couldn't help but catch a glimpse of his cock too before it all disappeared into the canoe. Christ even that wasn't bad looking
“I get hurt, you kiss me and make it better?” There was innuendo in his voice as he held a hand out to help you up into the boat. “I'm Nikolai.”
“And I'm fucking nuts,” you quipped and anchored yourself with his large hand as you crawled on behind him. You stopped caring about hiding your nudity.
“I've never met someone named fucking nuts. I thought Ollie sounded funny,” he began to row back to shore.
You watched the muscles in his shoulders and back flex and tense with motions. Hypnotized a bit, you began to fantasize about his arms and body crawling over you. Lying down on top of you. Pushing inside of you. You shook your head free of the filthy thoughts. Not that you wanted to, because you felt a sense of self preservation. You were better than the townies who bet every year how many tourists they could fuck.
Or were you?
“You and Ollie Sway are friends?”
“Comrades yes! Closer to brothers. We are inseparable. This is why I owe him a duty to protect his lake. Make it clean for him and his grandmother and everyone else good”
“By setting fire to the camp?”
“No! Just a little.. fun with the jet skis. But yes, the easiest way to get rid of them is to set them on fire.”
“Won't they explode?” You were starting to freak out as he maneuvered the boat on shore.
“I can only hope for the best!” He hopped out and grabbed the gas can and a zippo lighter. “Wait here for me.” It was a command, not a suggestion. “We will celebrate.”
“Celebrate? By doing what? Did you bring vodka?”
“Did I bring vodka? Because I'm Russian?” he feigned being upset.
“Well-”
Then a raucous laugh, “OF COURSE! It's in boat. But I meant a different way. You're so cute, I could eat you out.”
Your eyes wide, “You mean up? Language barrier right? The phrase is eat me up.”
“No. I meant what I said. It is definitely out.”
Uncertain of why or what you were doing, you laid on the grass along the lake shore. Your heart was racing along with your thoughts. Then a fire blazed up near the dock where the cabins were. You scrambled to your feet in a daze. Eyes wide and mouth agape with shock, you couldn't believe he did it.
Nikolai actually set them on fire. Those nasty, gas leaking jet skis that terrorized swimmers and destroyed the beauty of the lake. Maybe it wasn't necessarily the machines themselves, but the pig headed assholes who drove them. Still there was a smug satisfaction.
Then in a blur of arms and legs, Nikolai in his nude glory came racing across the hillside. A devilish look of delight on his lips and eyes as he grabbed your hand and tugged you along. There was an explosion behind you that caused each of you to duck and stop in your tracks. Hearts racing as you turned to watch several more small fireballs shoot upwards.
Nerves or adrenaline made you both start laughing hysterically. It was surreal. Your night of serenity and solitude turned into one of aiding and abetting a Russian ex-patriot in the destruction of personal property. It was, you remembered, a full moon.
Nikolai was breathing heavily in the stillness. His body tense as he waited for someone to follow, but no one came. The fire danced in his eyes that you noticed were green. Or blue? Or ever-changing. His lean body tan from the late summer sun.
“I didn't know Russians could catch a tan,” you spoke your thoughts out loud.
“Maybe I am Gypsy,” he shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I work my magic on this place. They won't forget me. Or well, them I hope don't know it was me?” He scratched his head absently.
“Well I certainly won't forget you at this point. But wasn't there another offer I was meant to take you up on?” You heart pounds out a loud rhythm over the words you couldn't believe tumbled from your mouth.
Nikolai looked down at you and smiled again. The static in the air, or humidity, caused an electricity that ran through your body. Adrenaline made your hands shake with anticipation. This lake had a strange effect on all its visitors.
Then his hands were on your back and in your hair and your mouths were hungry for each other. Tongues and lips and teeth as you playfully nipped at him. He laughed and feigned hurt as you melted into him.
Your nails dug into Nikolai’s shoulders as he ground his hips into you. And erection hard against your thigh and your body responded in kind. Your mouths never stopped kissing as he pushed a knee between your legs so you had to straddle it. You rode it briefly, body unable to find control.
“A little fire and two naked people kissing,” his accent thick and low. “You're so ready for me, da?” There was a teasing in his question.
“Weren't you supposed to.. eat me?” you joked. only a little.
Nikolai backed away from you. “Get down on the ground.” A command again in lieu of a suggestion.
You complied and laid down. The grass and sand cool under your back. Nikolai followed. He parted your thighs to situate himself on top of you. His skin was warm and smelled like burnt wood as his mouth blazed a trail from your neck down over your body that arched reflexively underneath him.
You gazed up at the full moon as it shone down on the both of you. You stopped thinking, lost in the kisses that briefly strayed to your breasts. Lips that sucked and bit before they headed between them and over your stomach and to your sex.
Nikolai darted his tongue inside of you. It searched and snaked in and out. Traced up and down before it found your clit. His hands on your hips to pull you into him. Encouraged you to ride him as he lapped you. Tasted you and kept going. His tongue and mouth unflinching as you took a hold of his head and tangled your fingers in the thick waves.
“Fuck,” you moaned and writhed. You took a chance and looked down at him.
Nikolai locked eyes with you and your body started to lose control. His movements found a rhythm that never stopped. Just continued until you couldn't take it anymore and cried out. Your body exploded like the jet skis in the distance. The fire still reflected in his eyes as you both rolled through the orgasm.
“We blame it all on the moon, dorogaya,” Nikolai finally suggested.
His words filled your head as he kissed you behind the ear. You could smell yourself on him, taste yourself as he kissed you one more time.
“I must go. Ollie will be worried.”
You weren't so sure Ollie Sway even noticed the Russian was gone, but you didn't correct him. Then he was gone and you were left blissful in the silence and solitude. Still floating.
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5, 6, 10, & 12 from the kinky smut prompts list and 1, 6, & 9 from the hardcore smut prompt list!! I was thinking of them all in the same blurb(?) but you do whatever floats your boat!! And could I have it with 80s Rog?? He gives off major daddy energy 👀😳
Anon I’m 🥵🥵 I was going to leave this one til a bit later but I literally couldn’t stop thinking about so here we are.
extreme bondage + dom/sub dynamic + orgasm denial + begging + rough sex + jackhammering + spanking
OOF
You’d been with Roger for close to a year the first time he suggested you try playing with bondage. It made you laugh a little from how out of the blue it came.
“What, you wanna handcuff me to a wall in your dungeon?” you broke into giggles again.
“I wouldn’t call it a dungeon since it’s on one of the upper floors. Quite well lit too. And I can do so much more than cuff you there.”
You laughed again, assumed it was a joke, but then he’d shown you what he was talking about. It was well lit, he’d been truthful about that. And about having more than just handcuffs. There were cuffs of course, thick leather ones with heavy metal buckles that would be impossible to escape from without some help. There was a set of more traditional metal ones too, though no feathery fluff in sight. Towards the edge of the room was a single bed, fresh sheets and a pillow, though it’s head and foot boards reminded you of jail bars if a bit cleaner and more stylish. You suppose it was easy to restrain someone there and you found yourself feeling more than a little excited by the prospect. Beside the bed were a number of foam blocks in different shapes, things to prop up hips and necks, things to be bent over. And then there was the cupboard. It looked unassuming, but inside were lengths of rope and silk blindfolds, ball and ring gags, spreader bars and a host of other items you’d only seen in porn magazines.
“We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t comfortable with it, but I figured it was time you knew about this room. In case that scares you off,” he drew his lip between his teeth, worrying at it as you took in your surroundings.
“We should start small. Maybe see how I like being handcuffed to the wall before you show me anything too crazy,”
Roger had grinned at that, relieved you hadn’t run away screaming.
f course, now was a different story. You were far beyond just cuffs, acquainted with most of his toys and his whims. And you loved it. Loved when he bent you over, contorted your body into positions that you hoped looked better than they felt, and tied you in place, unable to move out of the way of whatever he wanted to give you. He could be surprisingly romantic with it sometimes. One memorable birthday had seen you bound to the bed, the room awash in the glow of candles as soft love songs filled the gaps between your moans. He’d gone down on you until your legs shook and your voice was hoarse. But that wasn’t what he had on his mind this time. No, this time the wooden saw-horse (a not-quite-thick-enough wooden beam held up by four legs) had been dragged out of its corner, into the centre of the room. There you’d been bound, arms tied to the horse itself, legs to hooks in the ceiling, leaving you nearly bent in half and completely on display for him. The horse put you closer to the ground than the bed did, making Roger seem more intimidating as he paced around you, taking you in. He took his time, plotting out how best to play with you. When he did finally touch you he went just as slowly. Roger liked teasing you, liked how you’d squirm and whine, unable to change what was happening or break free, unless of course you used your safe word. But he wasn’t worried about that happening, certainly not so early. An hour in and he’d not even begun to undress himself, completely focused on you.
It usually took you a while to reach the first edge but Roger never tried to rush you. He took great delight in touching you, fingering you, slowly feeling you getting wetter and wetter. And he made sure to tell you so.
“Good girl. You like when Daddy plays with your little cunt, don’t you? Like how it feels when I give you my fingers,”
You nodded but it wasn’t a strong enough response so he reminded you of his expectations with a sharp spank to your arse, perfectly positioned for the punishment.
“I asked you a question Kitten,”
“Yes Daddy,” you gasped.
“Yes Daddy what?” another spank.
“Yes Daddy I like your fingers!”
“Better. Don’t slip up again.”
And then it was back to the soft touches, the light circles around your clit, making you hum as the pleasure built. He probably didn’t need you to tell him when you were getting close, could probably feel it from the way your body reacted to him. But he liked it all the same. So you warned him as you felt your orgasm approaching and he praised you as he removed his fingers from you, grinning.
“Now we can get started,”
After that was a blur. A heady mixture of his fingers over and in your cunt, stopping when you were on the verge of release, over and over again. It made your head spin. Especially when he brought his hand down on your arse or your thighs or your pussy, a harsh slap so different from how else he was touching you. You enjoyed it more than you probably should have, able to feel your arousal dripping down your backside after so much teasing and spanking. Roger made sure to comment on what a messy slut you were, gathering some of the sticky damp on his fingers before shoving them between your lips. That’s when he paused to undress himself. Sometimes he didn’t even do that much, just pulled his cock out ready to press it into whichever hole he wanted most. Undressing was an inconvenience he didn’t always want to endure. Today he deigned to remove all his clothes, but you knew it wasn’t for your benefit. It was to make things easier for himself. When he was done he came back towards you, stroked his fingers over you again, and made you beg for him.
“Tell me what you want Kitten,” he stood close, tapped his length against your soaking cunt, making you jolt each time.
“Please fuck me Daddy,” your voice sounded whinny to your own ears, muffled a little by your position.
“Why should I?”
“Because you like the way my cunt feels,”
“That’s true. But I just don’t know if you’re ready for me yet. I might have to edge you for a while longer yet,”
“No, no Daddy, please don’t. Please. I promise I’m ready and I want you. Please, please, please fuck me, I don’t need any more edges, I’ll be good and take you so well. Please Daddy,”
Your begging was cut off by the way he slammed himself into you, deep and fast, giving you no time to adjust before he began fucking you. It was all you could do to remember to breathe as he pistoned into you, gripping onto your legs tightly. Deliciously fast and rough. You were thankful that he’d tied you down, bound you in place so the force of it didn’t have you jolting further up the wooden beam. He’d slip out of you if that were the case and you didn’t want that. You loved when he got like this, when he used you. But it made it hard to concentrate on anything other than the way his cock felt slamming into you over and over. He’d spank you intermittently, whenever he felt you starting to drift away again, getting too lost in how it was to be so utterly out of control. Each slap pulled you back to the present, making the desperate need in your belly feel twice as strong as before, only growing as he filled you and fucked you.
You began to beg again, not for him to slow down or stop or anything like that. You begged to be allowed the orgasm he’d been denying you. A senseless wave of words and sounds that he could barely piece together. The only way he’d have been able to shut you up was with a gag (something he knew from experience) but, luckily for you, he rather enjoyed your begging. The way you’d whine and plead and cry, brought to tears but how badly you wanted it, how thoroughly he’d built you up and ripped away hope at the last second. But today wasn’t about you, it never had been. Roger doesn’t deny you so that he can eventually give you an earth shatteringly, mind-blowingly powerful orgasm. He doesn’t deny you to give in to your requests a few hours later. He denies you because he likes how wet you get, how eagerly you take him. He fucked you ruthlessly, hands as far from your clit as they can be, so that you feel enough to make you clench on his cock that way he likes, without giving you any more false hope. And then, when he couldn’t hold out any longer, when your clenching and begging had pushed him as far as he was willing to go, he came in you. Filling your cunt, watching it spill out as he pulled himself from you. He praised you of course.
“Good girl for taking me so well. Good girl for not cumming,”
And then he carefully untied you, making sure that the tears and sobs weren’t from pain, just disappointment and desperation. When he was sure you were okay he asked what you wanted next.
“I want to cum Daddy,” you think it’s probably not worth asking for. Last time he said no, offering instead a warm bath and a hot cup of tea and his embrace for the rest of the night. A fine enough deal and one you’d be happy to be offered again. But you might as well try to get your release.
Roger thinks about it for a moment, tracing his thumb down the side of your cheek. He must be in a more lenient mood because instead of refusal you hear, “Okay. But you’ll have to earn it.”
#my writing#my blurbs#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor smut#smut blurb#hhhhhhhhhhh#you really came for my life with this request#Anonymous
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today, this is the whole universe (and that’s okay) | mlqc | gavin/mc | domestic fluff
Gavin and MC spend a sleepy Sunday together.
The first rays of warm, buttery dawn light are barely brushing the edges of the half-open blinds when Gavin stirs, eyes blinking open, mouth stretching wide in a quiet yawn, MC still fast asleep in his arms, her hair like a soft silk blanket across his chest. Carefully, trying his best to not disturb her, he reaches over her head to grab at the top of the nightstand, where both their phones sit, charging, hers quiet, his buzzing softly but insistently with his morning alarm.
With an easy, practiced swipe, he silences it, placing it next to hers once more. He brings his hand back to caress her cheek, then begins the slow process of freeing his body by gently shifting her onto the bed itself. At his touch, she murmurs something. Soft and unintelligible as it is, it still manages to bring a small smile to his face.
For a moment, he lets himself lie there, thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbones, the edge of her lips, lets the warm rise and fall of her chest and the beat of her heart in time with his complete him— she's the only peace he’ll ever want, the only peace he thinks he’ll ever need.
Another alarm sets his phone off, and the moment’s over. But as he reaches to silence his phone again, MC stirs, turning her head just the slightest so her lips brush the tip of his thumb.
“What time is it?” comes her sleepy mumble.
“Just past five.”
He lets his phone fall back onto the nightstand, pulls her close as she wriggles around in his arms to bring her face to his, their noses a breath apart.
“I was about to go on my morning run,” he explains. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. The sun did.”
As she shakes her head, their noses bump. He laughs, and feels the gentle tremor of her laughter, too: warmth and light given voice, given music. He presses a kiss to her forehead and she smiles, eyes curling into little half-moons, then slipping closed.
“Go back to sleep,” he says, stifling another laugh. “You had a late night.”
“Did not.”
Her eyes are still closed, but she’s grinning. He scoffs.
“Did too.”
He’s expecting another, more indignant did not, but a long minute passes, and her breathing evens out, the grin on her face softening to a gentle smile as her head pillows in the crook of his arm.
Good, he thinks, even as he’s trapped by her again. She needs the sleep more than he needs to run.
She’d been up past midnight the night before, despite it being a weekend— the company had wrapped shooting for the next installment of City News late Friday night, but Minor, who was slated to edit the footage, had come down with a cold, and she’d volunteered to do it instead. Twenty-five hours and many a frustrated moment later, she’d finished, with Gavin doing his best to support and not hover the whole while (Though in his defense, even if he hadn’t actually had a case report to work on at the table, too, she’d appreciated the constant supply of coffee he’d provided her, and had eaten the meals he’d tried to make for her).
He’d chastise her for it, a short, well-intentioned lecture about how she really should consider herself and her own health before taking on even more work and responsibilities, but he’s sure the same could be said about him, too. And, exhausted as she may be, he knows she’d have been equally stressed had the work gone to someone else, and now she’s finished, and satisfied with the work she’s done, so really, more than anything else, he’s proud of her.
Now she has all of Sunday to rest— and even if it means sleeping half the morning away, he’s glad to be with her while she does it.
The sound of her breathing, slow and even, lulls him back into a light sleep until seven am, when the summer sunlight streaming in through the blinds is blanketing the bottom half of the bed, too bright for him to ignore. He drops a kiss on the top of MC’s hair before carefully sliding out from under her, and this time she’s sleeping so deeply that she doesn’t stir, not even when he settles her head atop a pillow, and pulls the sheets a little more tightly around her to make up for his absent warmth.
Despite how bright it is outside— too bright, and therefore too hot, he decides, for a run— the kitchen floor’s cool under his feet, even through the soles of his slippers.
Hot coffee it is, he thinks, filling up the well-used coffee machine, then poking around in the pantry for the jar of grounds, only to find it’s nearly empty. There’s enough coffee for two more cups, maybe three, but he makes a mental note to buy more the next time they’re out shopping.
While the coffee brews, he crosses the kitchen to open the fridge, then frowns at its contents. Shopping will have to be soon, there’s not much left in it, either, but for now, it’ll do.
The coffee machine beeps, satisfied after filling the first mug to the brim. He takes it, though the first cup’s normally for MC, gulps down a few sips with a grimace, then stirs in two sugars— it’s how she likes hers, he’s used to taking his black, but it seems her sweet tooth’s contagious.
In the time it takes her to finally wake up, he manages to prepare brunch with whatever’s left in the fridge. The cornerstone, of course, is the coffee, in the second of their matching mugs, as sweet as she likes it, two sugars, no milk. There’s a blueberry muffin he leaves her, and he fries up a couple of eggs, puts them on some toast with butter and jam as options for spreads, then adds the last of the strawberries, tries to make the whole thing presentable, or at the very least, vaguely cute, if only because it’ll put the brightest smile on her face when she sees it.
It does— her sleepy eyes widen as she first takes the sight of the laden tray in, then comprehension lights her whole face up, and her lips stretch into a still-tired, but broad grin.
“Gavin,” she protests even as he slides back into bed next to her, stealing a kiss, “you shouldn’t have!”
He smiles, tapping the rim of his mug to hers as she takes a big sip, then sighs, content.
“It’s only because you went to sleep so late last night. I had to.”
“It wasn’t that late! And it’s only because it was a lot of work that I didn’t wake up ‘til now.”
‘Wasn’t that late’ is two am and ‘now’ is one pm, and he points both out with a chuckle. She pouts, hiding behind another sip of coffee.
“I’ll go to sleep earlier from now on!” She vows.
“How early?”
“Um, one am?”
“That’s not early enough.”
He flicks her forehead and frowns, but she only laughs.
Despite his worry and gentle admonition, though, he can’t say he minds this at all: a weekend afternoon spent in bed, no deadlines or stress to think of, just her smile, her warm laugh and the bright summer sun in the window, a universe they’ve created between the folds of the covers, a universe of breakfast smells, soft pillows, and coffee, a universe just for them.
Dinner, a few lazy hours later, is takeout oden hotpot. His excuse is that there’s nothing left in the fridge, and possibly, also the fact that he’s uncertain his cooking skills are passable enough for a good Sunday dinner, but he’ll take any reason to treat MC to her favorite, so he does.
Her eyes flick from the familiar logo on the takeout bag up to his when he sets it on the kitchen table. He can read the ‘Gavin, you shouldn’t have,’ in them a heartbeat before she says the words.
“Eat up while it’s still hot,” is his only reply, and with a smile, he hands her a pair of disposable chopsticks after breaking them apart with a small snap. She looks from him to the steaming pot of food. When he doesn’t move, she picks up a fish cake and a piece of vegetable, and holds it out to him with an answering smile.
“You first. You really like the fish cakes from here, right?”
He nods, fighting another smile and the smallest blush, then takes the bite, gesturing for her to eat, too, as he chews and swallows.
While she’s busy filling her own bowl, he takes his own chopsticks and picks out a few choice pieces, then holds his first bite out to her, too. She takes it without protest, but then tries to give her second bite to him, and he counters by trying to give her both his second and his third—
The hotpot’s finished, in that manner, within the next hour and a half. When the pot’s full of only broth, they take a look at each other, then MC begins to laugh.
“My stomach’s stuffed— are you prepared to take responsibility for this crime, Officer Gavin?” she manages, between laughs, trying and failing to put on a pitiful expression as she rubs her belly.
“Only if you start eating proper meals regularly,” he replies after a heartbeat, clearing his throat, and she huffs, but there’s a matching spark of amusement in both their eyes.
They wash the dishes from the day together, MC with the sponge, Gavin behind her, his arms not quite around her, taking each dish and drying it with a towel before putting it to rest on the dish rack. Once the last bowl is scrubbed and shining, nestled firmly in place, they settle together in a comfortable tangle of limbs on the couch.
It’s a gentle sort of quiet for all of five minutes before someone tickles the other— Gavin’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him— and it turns into a full-scale tickle war.
He gets in a few good ones, her breathless laughter mingling with his, warm and loud and bright, but then her elbow slips, (“it wasn’t on purpose!” she claims later) devious, into his gut.
“Do you surrender?” she asks, perched atop his chest, mischievous glint in her eyes. He starts to raise his arms, thinks better of it, then settles for a resigned nod.
“You got me,” he replies, then smiles when she leans in to brush her lips against his.
He doesn’t use the opportunity to tickle her again— he’s far more mature than that. He doesn’t.
And if they collapse into giddy giggles later, sides aching, breath spent, the couch pillows strewn across the plush white carpet, the coffee table askew, well, that's both their faults, not just his.
The sun’s long since slipped below the horizon by the time they’ve cleaned up the living room and taken a seat again, tired out. The room's wide windows give them both a glimpse into an otherworldly dimension, one made of night and stars and the soft glow of city lights far below, a universe at their feet, though the only one he cares about is right beside him, chin on his shoulder, the rest of her stretched out on the sofa while he sits on the floor.
“Play something for me?” she murmurs into his ear as he fiddles with his guitar, the two of them illuminated by the glow of his lamp of stars and the moonlight.
He lets his fingers dance across the guitar strings until it turns into music, a soft, warm melody that somehow tugs on the edges of his memory though he’s sure he’s never played it before in his life, and he’s humming along before he even realizes it, the notes familiar, nostalgic, like coming home.
MC’s head tips up, eyes wide, and his fingers slip from the strings. The music stops.
“Play that again?”
He nods, obliges instinctively, and there’s the melody again, chords like his life given new meaning, breathed alive in the spaces between the start of one note and the end of another, slow and quiet at first, then building, gently lingering.
“Do you know the song?” he asks. “It feels familiar, somehow—”
His voice trails off. The words, once spoken aloud, seem almost silly. It’s more than familiar, it’s something deep, significant, more than he could ever put into words.
She shakes her head with a slight frown. At her silence, he picks through the notes again, humming them, memorizing their sound, their shape, their feel until the snippet’s over again, fading, a song left unfinished, perhaps because its (his, their) story hasn’t yet come to an end.
“I think I’ve heard it before,” she says at last with a small, wistful smile, then leans over the guitar to press a kiss to his lips. Reflected in her eyes, he fancies, is not just the lamplight, but the light of all the universe, a hundred galaxies, a thousand stars.
“Maybe it was in a dream.”
#mlqc#mlqc gavin#mlqc fanfic#mr love queen's choice#mlqc bai qi#val writes#attack of the ao3 titles#also the last time i wrote smth purely fluffy and this is *checks date* from#tWO months ago to the day#anyway that last part was inspired by gavin's CN VA playing his theme i cry everytime i hear that weiofkldsf
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drifted
pairing: eric x reader ft. sunwoo, hyunjae and younghoon
genre: angst, suggestive, exes au, requested
word count: 2.2k
requested by: anon
warnings: bad breakup, mature language, mature themes, alcohol intake, smoking, parties, mentions of vomit, blood, anxiety
prompt: “all my demons have your smile, in the city of angels” from la la lost you by niki
synopsis: after some time avoiding each other even if it was inevitable, he called you very late at night, wanting two things before he leaves; a last kiss and some closure.
★
“Eric what’s wrong please tell me, please just tell me what the hell you’re thinking! We’re so detached from one another, we’ve drifted apart. Please I wanna know what’s keeping you so quiet nowadays, please tell me!” you say as you walk behind him in the hallways. Not even caring if other people watched. He walks to the end of the hallway to the door to the field. You grab his arm and he shakes it off you, looking at you with a soft frown with harsh eyes.
“I’m breaking up with you, I’m tired, leave me alone.” he says. You gasp, “I don’t understand why are you being like this?” He flinches at the face you made. He hated seeing you in pain, and the moment you asked him the question your voice croaked as your mouth quivered.
He breathes deeply, “I just want to be alone.”
So you left him, clenching your fists as you stomp away with tears falling out of your eyes.
“Y/n baby!” you hear Hyunjae say with his arms open, and Sunwoo called for you as he walked by the halls. But the moment you looked at him, his face frowned, eyebrows furrowed and pulled you to him, hugging you as you cried.
★
You sigh as you sit on the rooftop of your friend’s house. Currently at a house party you never wanted to attend. Hyunjae was lonely, needed company, but he didn’t seem to need you the moment more and more people mistook his small gathering as a ‘party.’
And there he goes, in the swimming pool with only his boxers and a bottle of vodka. You roll your eyes. You would usually want to join in on the fun, but today wasn’t a good day. Hyunjae knew that, and that’s why he wanted a ‘small’ gathering in the first place. Maybe you gave him the benefit of the doubt, that the people just suddenly appeared was out of his control. Besides, this could help him cope with the emptiness he was feeling.
The feeling of losing someone.
But why were you so bothered that night you avoided contact with the people you liked to have fun with? Why is it so easy for you to leave parties when you’re usually the last to leave?
Because on the walk to Hyunjae’s, you’ve seen the boy who’s broken your heart. “Sohn Eric.” you mumble his name as you look at the night sky. You and him had a pretty stable relationship, but there was always something off with him the few months before he finally left you. Eric had been your best friend since pre-school, decided to date you so suddenly in the tenth grade, and now as you’re about to graduate, he breaks it off. It’s been a few months, one more and it’s been half a year since you’ve been together. You think it was shitty, him breaking it off with you so coldly like those years never meant anything. And it was during your midterms too, how could someone be so selfish? Couldn’t he at least wait after midterms?
As much as you’d like to avoid him, he’s always there. What could you do? You both are literally on the same campus, you’re friends with his friends even before you were together, your best friend is Kim Sunwoo who’s literally always with him too. You hug your legs, resting your chin on your knees as your eyes follow Hyunjae swimming from side to side in a drunken state.
You stayed quiet for a while, but you felt someone tap your shoulder. “Sunwoo, hey.” you tell him, patting the space beside you. He was only in his boxers too, hair dripping wet, probably swam. And he reeked of alcohol. “Are you drunk and horny? Cause I’d rather not do it with you. You’re hot, but drunk, and I’ve lost enough people by locking lips with them, but then again I’m pretty lonely.”
Sunwoo chuckles, “I’m a bit tipsy but Hyunjae drinking in the pool made the vodka mix into the water. It’s for sure ninety percent alcohol and ten percent water now if it was possible. I smell horrible but yeah, swimming was… interesting. Wish you were there with me fucking everyone up though.”
“Probably not, but please tell Hyunjae to take it easy, I’m fucking concerned.” you say with a sigh.
He hums, “let him. He’s the older one between us three, and he’d beat my ass if I try anything. He’s probably in his own world now.”
You both look up, thoughts both filled up your minds as you count each star, and how Sunwoo traced each one together. But he found the silent too awkward and broke it off, with something he knew you couldn’t stay silent about. “I heard the Eric thing. How are you both by the way? I asked him but he never told me about it. And we’re the closer ones, so could you give me anything?”
“Funny. I’m vulnerable and you use this tactic on me to talk, I hate you.” you grunt and moved further.
Sunwoo scrunches his nose and slides, sitting closer to you than before. Both shoulders touching, you could already feel the cloth of your sweater getting drenched with the wetness of his skin. “Though, I kinda owe you an answer since you literally worked your ass off to keep us together whenever we fought. But I honestly don’t know. Like we’ve broken up, we’re trying to leave it in the past, but we can’t seem to face each other; which is fine, like I’d want to see his face.”
“It’s a face you kissed.” Sunwoo says, making the kiss sound.
You cringe at him and say a cold, “whatever.”
He laughs and asks you, “had Eric he’d ever try? Like to get back with you?”
And your answer, “I don’t know. I blocked his number so he probably couldn’t call me.”
Sunwoo pouts at your statement and wraps an arm around your shoulders. You try to swat him away, “you’re going to make me wet!” you say as you try to push him from you, but realizing the statement you just made you mentally face palmed. “That sounds so wrong fuck!” you say and giggle at yourself. Sunwoo still hadn’t let go, you could feel his warmth around you and his warm breath by your cheek.
You don’t know what it is but the sudden company of Sunwoo had made you crave something. A tender touch perhaps? A small kiss? You denied him before he even tried anything, nor not even knowing if he had the intention to or not. Were you lonely? Maybe, but you didn’t know what was happening. Yes you had a bit to drink before the small gathering was thrashed for you, but you felt sober. “Sunwoo I-” you say, he looks at you but before you could’ve done anything your phone rings beside you with an unknown caller.
“Answer, it looks familiar.” he says with a smile. “Well, I’ll go because I’m literally slipping. Also, tell me what happens, okay?” he waves and you were left dumbfounded.
“Sunwoo what do you...mean.” you look back and he was no longer there. How slick.
You answer your phone, shakily bringing up to your ear. Sunwoo’s words add onto your anxiety. “Hello?” you say with a shaky breath.
And the moment the opposite line began to speak, you froze. “Y/n, go home, I’m at your front door, I need to tell you something.” and he ends the call. You didn’t know what to feel, but your body moved for you.
You quickly go down the rooftop, climbing down the tree and walking inside the house. Bottles everywhere, food scattered. The smell of smoke, bottles and vomit were everywhere. There was even dried blood by the living room. You go to the front door, meeting Younghoon by the staircase with a cigarette. “Leaving so soon?”
“Too boring for me.” you tell him.
He shrugs, “it’s cause you’re sober.”
“I don’t need to be drunk to have fun. Now I have to go, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, hopefully you’re not as ruined as the rest.” you give him a genuine smile, and he replies with a grin. He takes a puff on his stick and you grab your coat by the side, and head out.
It wasn’t a long walk. You had your hands in your pocket as you took your time to get home. You were nervous, you could’ve just blocked the number, but something told you to just give him what you wanted.
After a few more minutes, there was the boy who’d requested for your appearance, strangely at your own home sitting at the front porch. As you open the gate and enter, he looks up and stands. “Y/n.”
“Say what you want and leave.” Maybe you were too harsh on him. But as you feel guilty you remember the scene that liked to reappear in your dreams.
“What if I want to be with you for now?”
You scoff at him, looking at him wide eyed as you try to repeat what he’d just said. “Excuse me?” you say, holding yourself back without giving him a slap.
“I’d like to be with you, and I just… I know this is the right thing to do. So please hear me out before I say my last goodbye.”
“Last hello too, huh.” you say in spite.
He sighs, “please just let me, please?” he pleads, giving you the tilt of the head you can’t seem to resist. “Okay, then we’ll talk inside.” you say and push him to the side.
You crouch as you lift your home’s rug, grabbing the key and unlocking your home. “Come on.” you say as your gesture for him to come inside with a nod.
You both settle down on your living room’s couch as Eric sits comfortably. You hated it, the way he’s being so calm while you’re about to burst. The mere sight of him hurt you, and you were really hurt. But how could he come here and act like he never did anything?
“I miss you, all my demons have your smile, in the city of angels.” he says so suddenly, but you hadn’t bought it.
“If you’re going to sweet talk me, just leave.”
He frowns, and leans towards you. You moved back, yet he crawled on the couch, til you leaned on its end. You push him off, a look of horror on your face, the feeling of betrayal once again, heart pounding as he looked at you with sad eyes. His hand on his chest as he tried to calm it down.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you say. Spitting out more shouts of anger, getting nearer and nearer on him on the couch. You get on his lap as you hit his chest, but your thighs wrapping unconsciously around him like it was always used to. He held your hands and hugged you.
“I’m leaving Y/n. I’m moving… back to LA.” He looks at your eyes. You pushed yourself away from him.
You open your mouth, looking around you as you try to form a sentence. You force out your words, each space filled with a choked sob. “Is this why you broke up with me?” You wanted to throw up. It was too much for you to handle, this was too much.
“I thought it would be better if… you end up hating me.”
Your hand comes in contact with his cheek. “I’m fine with a fucking long distance relationship! I’m fine! Why didn’t you tell me? We always told each other that…” you say, but you were dissociating. Your head spinning, you look at his eyes. You’ve seen this before, like deja vu.
“Because I won’t be coming back. I’d stay there, and I don’t want you to be lonely. I know Sunwoo likes you. I just know he’d be a better fit. Besides, you would’ve dated him if he asked first.” Eric says with a chuckle.
“But you’re the one I love Eric.” you say softly. Yet your mood changes quick, “fuck you. You’re just saying this for your selfish gain. You’re the one who doesn’t want to suffer.” you say, sobs in between.
You wipe your tears. Eric stays silent for a moment, and maybe you were right. Maybe he doesn’t want to suffer, he doesn’t have the patience to wait til he could finally go back. And you were his first girlfriend. Time spent with you was vulnerable, but maybe you needed to break apart. Maybe you two were never meant for each other.
“Can I at least have one last request?” he asks. You remove your hands from your eyes. Face puffy and eyes sore. Eric was right in front of you with a sad smile, and you couldn’t help but just give in, nodding weakly.
He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. You gasp at his sudden action, but you thought to yourself that this was meant to happen. And crashes your lips together, feeling each other's tears run down your faces.
Closure.
#kpopscape#deobiwritersnet#tbz#the boyz#eric#sohn eric#tbz imagines#tbz scenarios#tbz smut#the boyz scenarios#eric scenarios#sohn eric imagines#eric imagines#eric smut#the boyz smut#eric x reader#tbz x reader#the boyz x reader
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back of the bar
futakuchi kenji x reader
nsfw warning: sorta drunk sex, public sex ✦ wc: 1.5k ✦ see: nsfw collection
----
Not enough.
“Hey, you plan on getting shitfaced before the party starts?”
Not. Enough.
You’re still holding back, still too conscious. Still in the realm of sobriety.
You down two shots of tequila, making a face as the burn settles in your throat. Cheers and claps erupt all around you, and the adrenaline kicks in.
The crowd is a mix of friends from high school and some familiar faces from the volleyball team Nametsu used to manage.
Is he watching?
Despite the buzz building in your head, you try and seek out a distinct pair of eyes. The daunting ones that made you look away whenever you’re caught staring. But there’s a certain gravity to them that pulled you back in, and you wanted so badly to be pulled in without restraint.
That’s what alcohol is for, you think.
“Alright everyone! Birthday countdown!”
Everyone shifts their attention to Nametsu who’s sitting on the bar counter, a sloshed grin on her face as she aims the confetti bomb towards the ceiling.
The countdown starts with ten, then nine.. eight! seven!
You see him counting too, sitting on the long table like he owns the whole place, hyping up the crowd with mirth.
..when his eyes meet yours.
three! two! one!
And he winks.
pop!
“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAY, NAMETSUUU!”
“Crowd surf! Crowd surf!”
“Shut up, Futakuchi!”
The entire room is obscured in glitter and metallic colors raining from the ceiling, painting the bar with a surreal festivity. Cheers and whistles breathe life to the scene.
Your field of vision is shrouded in color, and you’re not sure if it’s from the confetti.
----
Alcohol practically ran through your veins with how much you've consumed, your intention of getting close to Futakuchi long forgotten and replaced with dancing ‘til your feet give out. And at one point, give out they did.
From the spot you had rightfully — drunkenly — claimed as yours, a round booth in a poorly-lit corner of the bar, you muse blankly at the strobe lights, almost seizure-inducing but hypnotic when accompanied by music.
“Been waiting long?”
Slumped on the couch, only your head turns to the voice. Futakuchi has his head tilted, wearing that smug expression. He’s nursing a bottle in one hand, two shot glasses in the other.
It just might be your inebriety, but you find yourself chuckling at his sudden presence. “Long enough, Futaku—”
“Just Kenji.”
“Kenji..” You like the way his name rolls on your tongue.
“Mm, y/n right?” You nod, and your dreamy eyes are glued to his face as he slips into the booth, and settles beside you.
It’s the first time you see him up close and get the chance to admire his features.
Yup, just as pretty as he is from afar.
The man had been making rounds, coercing every person—friend and acquaintance—into taking a shot. It took him forever to reach you that you’d forgotten all about him.
He pours both of you a shot until the glasses are more than half filled.
“Just saving the best for last.. Cheers?”
Facing each other, you clink glasses, the impact spilling some on your clothes. He watches you empty your glass, eyes filled with an intensity that you don’t seem to notice.
The burning sensation you anticipate in your throat doesn’t come. Or maybe it does, but something more intense begins to burn when an arm snakes around your waist.
“How long did I keep you waiting?”
You shudder at his warm breath on your skin and the way his fingers are lingering on your thigh.
“Only the entire night,” you say, feeling the liquid courage kick in, “Will you make up for it?”
“I plan to.”
His lips are on yours before you realize it, soft and hot against you. Your head is spinning, whether from the alcohol or the kiss, you’re not sure, but you comb your fingers through his soft tresses, grabbing fistfuls to convince yourself this is actually happening.
His touch glides up from your thigh up to your backside, groping and feeling your shapely ass through your skin-tight dress.
One long steamy kiss later, you’re unlatching from him, the strained look on your face making him worry that he might have crossed the line too early. But the thought is quick to dispel itself when you grab his hand and guide him under your dress and onto the dampness between your legs.
A breathy chuckle escapes him, and then he’s touching you and rubbing his fingers against your warmth. “Impatient much?”
“I’ve been nothing but patient the entire night.”
You lean forward, and your tongue is tracing the seam of his lips, coaxing it to open for you.
“Right, my bad,” he breathes over your mouth. His fingers are rubbing you through your panties, moving in circles and feeling you get wetter, stickier after each passing second. The overwhelming pleasure makes you break away from the kiss and breathe shakily into his ear.
He cranes his neck to peek at your flushed face, at the whimpering mess you’ve become, and finds himself getting more aroused.
His touch abandons your core, eliciting a soft whine from you. But the next thing you know, he’s lifting you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him, knees folding on either side.
The change in position is disorienting, and the lack of control over your body isn’t helping. But as soon as you feel a rock hard pressure between your legs, your hips begin moving on their own, grinding needily against it and making Futakuchi curse under his breath.
He leans in, sucking on your neck while fingering the stringy straps of your dress, tugging them down languidly. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down your throat, travelling dangerously low the more he tries to undress you.
“Kenji, someone might..”
Before you could even turn around, a jacket was already coming up behind you and cloaking your entire backside.
“No one will see, don’t worry,” he whispers.
Not really assured by his own words, he peeks over your shoulder. Whether it’s due to poor lighting or everyone’s hammered state, he deems it safe to continue.
You smile before crashing your lips onto his, tongue lapping out to taste him. “Then...can I..”
“What is it, baby?”
He gets his answer when your hands glide down his firm torso and onto the buckle of his belt. Grinning as he realizes where this is headed, he hooks his fingers on the hem of your dress and tugs at it.
“You wanna fuck me right here?”
His hot breath sends a shiver all the way to your core, turning your fingers to jelly while you fumble on his belt. Futakuchi laughs softly at your little struggle and relieves you of it, undoing his pants to free his throbbing member.
Not a second goes to waste when you align your moist cunt atop him, breathing heavily at the contact while you slowly descend all the way to the bottom until he’s fully inside you. He digs his fingers into your hips, his dark lidded eyes seeking yours out.
You start moving, riding up and down his shaft and moaning his name in a soft chant. It becomes harder for you to sense if someone’s approaching, but it’s even harder to give a fuck when your minds are swimming in alcohol and the sweet promise of release.
Both of you share a desperate kiss, biting and licking and moaning in between. “Shit, keep going, y/n..”
With the jacket concealing your backside, Futakuchi slips your dress further off you and drinks in the sight of your bare breasts. He thrust his hips in time with yours, the zapping heat in your core becoming unbearable and making you desperate for release.
The cacophony of club music and raw singing is drowned out by the hammering of your heart and Futakuchi’s boyish moans, enough to bring you on the edge of sanity.
“Kenji.. I’m gonna..” You feel your toes curl and your cunt squeeze tight around him, drawing out a string of curses from the boy.
“Fuck yeah baby, cum on my cock, please..”
The tension between your legs subsides as you find your release and collapse into his chest, panting heavily. He doesn’t release you from his hold, dragging out the high by continuing to thrust inside you in a languorous pace until he comes to a stop. For a while, you savor the sound of each other’s breathing, and Futakuchi continues to bask in the comfort of your walls.
He’s alerted by a slight movement from the corner of his eye, and sees Moniwa stop in his tracks, horror and distress written all over his face as he stares at the two figures in the compromising position.
Futakuchi flicks his wrist in a shooing motion, and the former captain willingly turns on his heel to leave.
“Someone saw?” you ask.
“Nah,” he deadpans, pulling your straps back up onto your shoulders, “Say, wanna ditch? Kinda craving some fast food right now.”
You giggle and plant a soft kiss on the boy’s cheek before climbing off him.
“What’s your escape plan?”
——
a/n: liked this work? leave a note or send in your thoughts thru my ask box!
#in public collection#futakuchi kenji#futakuchi kenji x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu!! smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#smut#fanf1c
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