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battymommastuff · 4 months

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The Greatest Show

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Masterlist

(P/N): Performer Name

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

The rumbling from the red and white tent could be felt from outside. The cheers of the crowd as Haly's circus put on what they felt would be their best show yet. Everything from the elephants standing on their back legs to the clowns hitting each other with bowling pins. You were peeking from the little opening that led backstage. Many of your fellow performers were either stretching in preparation for their performance, or were relaxing after theirs. You were currently waiting alongside your two closest friends, John and Mary Grayson. The acrobatic duo who recently combined their act with yours. The stakes were higher, but it left the crowd in complete awe. You were one of the fire eaters. You were a younger member of the circus, but had quickly become a fan favorite.

You were beautiful, and highly skilled at your art. Swallowing fire like water, and twirling torches around without burning you or anyone else. The skill you possessed was outstanding, and Haly never let you forget that. He took you in when you needed help the most, and he made you a star. You would forever be in debt to him.

"Are you ready, (Y/N)?" Mary asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. You jumped then turned towards her. She and John had just finished their stretches and decided to check on you. From the moment you arrived, they took you under their wing. Teaching you the do's and don'ts of the circus as well as giving you a place to sleep so you didn't have to bunk with the others in their crowded space. Though you quickly earned a little tent of your own after your spike in popularity.

"Yes, I'm alright..." You said, with a small smile, "But what about you? Should you be performing in your condition?" You asked while looking down at Mary's stomach. She was currently one month pregnant, and the entire circus doted over her. Everyone was so excited to have a new member of their family. Whoever this kid was going to be, you just knew you would love them unconditionally. Mary reassured you for the millionth time that she would be alright before she and John were ushered up a small ladder that led to the top of the tent. You, on the other hand, were standing by the curtain, waiting for Haly to announce you.

"And now...our next performance needs no introduction...you know them...you love them! The Flying Graysons! Featuring our star Fire eater (P/N)!"

As soon as you heard your name, you ran out. Instantly lighting your torch and twirling it around while taking a sip of alcohol. You spat the liquid at the flame causing it to poof into the air as soon as Mary did a flip in the air and caught John's arms.

Nothing could ever satisfy that rush in your heart. The thrill of the crowd's reaction to your tricks. The high it gave you was better than any drug. Here you were, twirling two flaming torches in your hand as you watched above you. John and Mary Grayson were flying through the air. No one knew who to watch first. The couple who seemed to defy gravity, or the woman who could eat fire. Even with them in the air and you on the ground, everyone could see the chemistry you had. It's why your combined act never failed. With a big smile, you leaned back while lowering one of the torches towards your mouth. The crowd watched in awe as the fire went into your mouth. You popped your head back up with the extinguished torch in your hand. Tossing it to one of the helpers, you lifted your now free arm in the air while twirling the other torch in your hand.

John, swooping down picked you up and you were now in the air. An act practiced hundred of times. His legs holding onto the trapeze as you both circled around the tent, the torch never falling from your hand.

Your act was truly amazing, and it seemed to catch the eye of a certain crowd member. Bruce Wayne. Growing up, he loved to visit the circus with his parents. After their death, he avoided anything to do with it. Now he was back, but under different circumstances. For a while he'd been investigating the circus. He recently found old notes left by his father. The Court of Owls. A secret society of the Gotham elite. Their goal is to rid the city of crime, by any means. He wasn't surprised to know that his father had come in contact with them, but was surprised to see the theory that Haly's circus was a front. The members were training to be potential Talon members. The Court's lethal assassins. The circus always seemed to favor Gotham. Their stop here would last weeks while other stops would last days. Most of their members were young, and always seemed to vanish from the show after a while. He was here to find out the truth, and put a stop to it. At least he hoped he could. It was difficult to fight a conspiracy that his father barely had proof on.

Despite his goal, he couldn't bring himself to move from his spot. You were gorgeous. He had a genuine smile on his face while watching your act. He's seen fire eaters before, but something about felt different. You didn't seem corrupt or up to no good. You looked as if you truly loved what you were doing. Maybe he could recruit you? Having inside knowledge would be beneficial.

Your act went on, and you left the circle with loud cheers. Your heart was racing so fast, it felt like you were going to have a heart attack. John and Mary arrived shortly after with large smiles of their own, "You did amazing!" You squealed while hugging them both. You were new to the acrobatic world, but had the best teachers in the world.

After the show ended and everyone turned in for the night, you were sitting outside of your tent. Your throat is slightly irritated from the alcohol, but nothing too bad. Luckily tomorrow was an off day for the circus. You could rest a little before practice. It was a peaceful night, and you were happy to relax in it. At least until a deep and intimidating voice nearly scared the skin off of you.

"(Y/N) (L/N)? We need to talk."

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TAGLIST

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa

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eiightysixbaby · 10 months

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Wait! Rockstar!Eddie. Straddling Eddie before his show helping him put his eyeliner on, your so close to his face as you concentrate on not poking his big brown eyes. His grip on your waist is hard. He can feel you trembling and can see your hands shaking. He moves his hips on purpose making you gasp. Your wearing a skirt on purpose and he knows you don’t have anything else on underneath 😫

don’t do this to me. don’t. do. this. to me. rockstar!eddie is my weakness.

you love any excuse to help him get ready for shows, so it’s a no brainer when he asks if you’ll do his eyeliner for him. the sheer thought of him in smudged black eyeliner gets you worked up, and you don’t do a good job at hiding it. you straddle his lap where he sits on the couch in his dressing room, his big hands immediately coming to hold your waist, rings cold against your scorching skin. your hands fumble with the eyeliner pencil as you take the cap off, almost dropping it on the cushions beneath you.

Eddie almost makes you nervous when you’re so close to him like this, he’s simply too pretty to handle. you don’t know how to control yourself, getting all giddy and shy. his breathing is measured as your gentle hand comes up to draw the waxy black substance along his eyelid. you hold his face still with your other hand, trying so hard not to flinch and poke his eye out when his thumbs rub small circles on your lower back. his eyes are half-lidded when you pull the pencil away momentarily, lashes fluttering as he blinks at you expectantly. he’s so hot like this, dressed in his stage garb, confidence radiating off of him. you smudge the liner with the pads of your fingers just a little bit, perfecting the rockstar look.

you tremble as you move to the other eye, your brain using all of its power to focus on doing Eddie’s makeup rather than the feeling of his hands inching closer to your ass every second. he senses how worked up you are, rolling his hips up into you once you’ve pulled your hand away from his eye for a moment. you gasp, biting your lip between your teeth. the skimpy little skirt you’re wearing is only helping you, the fabric riding so far up your thighs and giving Eddie such easy access if he wants it. he smirks, tilting his chin up to kiss your jawline, nibbling just a little bit. you whine softly, desperately trying to finish the makeup on his other eye.

“what’s got you so worked up, sweetheart? it can’t be little old me, hm?” he purrs, rolling his hips against you once more, as if to punctuate his sentence.

“y-you’re teasing me,” you pout, putting the cap back on the eyeliner and setting it down on the table.

“oh? am I?” he taunts, craning his neck towards you again to kiss your earlobe. he sucks the delicate bit of flesh into his mouth. “I would’ve guessed this is what you wanted… considering that sorry excuse for a skirt you’re wearing,” he continues, his hot breath tickling your ear and giving you goosebumps. “…and considering you’re wearing nothing underneath, I think I would be correct,” his voice is a low rumble, fingers brushing against your bare cunt for only a moment before he draws them away.

you moan, this time grinding yourself against him. you can feel how hard he is, and you grind yourself down once more, letting the outline of his cock create perfect friction where you need it most. he just watches you with a smug smirk plastered on his lips, letting you get yourself off on him. he’s guiding your movements with strong arms and steady hands, groaning when you whimper his name. you know he has to go on stage any minute now, but you don’t really care. let him be late, let him walk on stage with your juices soaking his jeans, hickeys on his neck. he knows you’re close when your cries of his name become repetitive, just Eddie Eddie Eddie over and over, your head thrown back as your clit catches on the fabric of his jeans. eager fans waiting for the band to come onstage shout Eddie Eddie Eddie just the same, and it spurs you on to know that you’re the one that gets to have him.

you completely soak him when you cum, but it doesn’t phase him. he’s sick, and he loves it. he plays his show with soaked black denim clinging to his legs, winking at you when he spots you in the crowd. all he can think about is how good he’s gonna fuck you once the show’s over.

#leah’s got mail 💌#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson smut

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knavves · 1 year

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HIT MY BRAIN, DGAF ft various bllk men — which of the bllk boys r absolutely mf hung ?

wc: 0.8k ノ cw + tw : nsfw (18+). fem reader. blow jobs. size kink(?). dacryphilia. masturbation. use of pet names. mirror sex. belly/throat bulges. dirty talk. praise. riding. mentions of blood.

shidou is definitely huge and he knows it too. "too big for you, pretty? i know you can take more than that." he's already bulging in your throat even though he's not even fully sheathed inside your mouth, so heavy on your tongue. the stretch of your jaw fucking burns but his groans are so hot that the slight pain doesn't bother you so much. one of your hands wrap around the base of his cock, stroking whatever you couldn't reach with your mouth. the other one is knuckles deep inside your own pussy, wishing he was buried deep somewhere else. "there you go. fuck so good, such a good girl for me." the slurping and gagging noises that ricochet off the walls are downright filthy but he loves it, just as much as he loves your runny and smudged mascara. he places his large hand on the back of your head, shoving you down further on his length as he shoots his load down your throat. hearing you choke and seeing you struggle to swallow the mouthful of his cum has him hard all over again.

you're gonna have to hear me out on karasu, he is absolutely hung i know it. he loves to have you pressed up against the dresser, the wooden furniture rocking and thudding into the floor with each strong thrust of his hips. he places you in front of the mirror too, a firm grip on your jaw to make you ogle at yourself in the reflection. your eyes lock on the way your tits bounce in suite of the loud slapping noises. the drool that escapes from the corners of your opened mouth that spills uncontrollable moans is downright embarrassing but you can't reach up to wipe it, not when you need to stabilize yourself as he brutally pounds into you. but your eyes are especially drawn to where he's bulging in your abdomen. "cryin already?" he coos into your ear, his warm breath fanning your ear. he was right, you noted as you peered back at yourself in the mirror to see fat tears spilling over. you drop your head to look away from your fucked out self making him click his tongue in annoyance, "nuh uh, baby. keep yer eyes on yourself. look so beautiful."

aiku thinks you look so cute right now, cunt fluttering and squeezing him so nicely as he sinks his cock into you. you're trembling where he has you caged beneath him, shaking your head and murmuring variations of "s too big!" and "not gonna fit, oli..". but he only shushes you, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet nothings to soothe you. "you can take it, baby. that's it.. see i knew you could." he stretches you out so so good, its no wonder several women flocked to him before he met you. but now you had him in the palm of your hand, you were the one who he came home to everyday, bending you over and drilling his fat cock into you whenever you ask. like now where he has you bent in half, legs dangling over his broad shoulders as he fucks you dumb. he has you seeing stars, pulling his cock out until just the tip is in before slamming all of his girth back into your weeping pussy.

it takes all of barou's self control to not flip you over and pound into you until you can't utter anything but his name. but regardless of his desires, he uncharacteristically takes it slow with you and lets you take your time lowering yourself onto him. it feels like he's splitting you in half, your bottom lip is tucked in between your teeth, threatening to draw blood. "you can do it. i got you, sweetheart." his voice is still gruff but his words are so unusually sweet. when you finally bottom out, he almost lets out a guttural moan at the imprint of his dick in your stomach. "feel that, baby?" he smirks when you gasp as he cruelly presses down on the bulge in your stomach. he's so deep. it takes you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of him, no matter how many times you've fucked you always struggle to take him. "atta girl." he grunts as you start bouncing in his lap, hands sliding up to your waist to dig his rough hands into your flesh. the time it took to prep you was all worth it to feel you squeeze his cock so nicely with each raise of your hips and to hear the cute whimpers that left your lips. your voices tangled with one another as he muttered between moans how tight you were. you'd squeal and curl your toes every time he'd thrust up into you, his cock slamming against your sweet spot. "cum all over my cock, baby. make a mess for me."

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pparadiselost · 6 months

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radial.

kageyama tobio x fem reader tobio is fascinated by your hands and wrists. warning(s): nsfw, slight yandere kageyama, size kink, bruising mention

kageyama never thought about what he looked like until his professional career started. it wasn’t until his teammates started teasing him about the fans who started paying attention to him because of his appearance, and it really never cemented anything important into his volleyball-obsessed mind until kuroo had brought it up.

he had only responded with a calm statement that he was aware that his fans found him hot. it wasn’t meant to be smug or conceited, but it did make him a bit more cognizant about appearances. not just his, but yours as well.

specifically, the differences between your body and his. he was used to being surrounded by big burly athletes on the regular that coming home to someone like you has made him take note a bit more of the small things. like how much softer your body feels when he holds you as you sleep, or even the way your eyes crinkle up as you smile at him before he leaves for work, his cheeks still tingling from where you kissed him goodbye.

but there’s something else about you that kageyama’s noticed thoroughly. something so trivial and everyday that it’s almost weird to him that the thought has lodged itself so deep inside his mind.

it’s your hands.

he loves thinking about them in contrast to his. he’s never thought about his hands either, at least outside of his professional needs, too much. they’re his lifeline; without them, he could never dream of playing volleyball. he takes care of his hands as needed: he massages them, stretches them, and does everything his medical and managerial team tells him to do.

his palms are adorned with callouses, the layers of hardened skin and muscle built up over a lifetime of dedication to his sport. they’re nothing like the average layman’s hands, far more tattered, always rebuilt, constantly pushing further beyond what he thinks will be enough.

“t-tobio!” you sound so small, so weak to him. it drives kageyama wild. it awakens something primal in him, something that makes him want to rip you to shreds in every way possible.

your thighs shake around his waist, your toes curling into his creaking mattress. his hips keep ramming into you, his cock thrusting wildly up into your drenched cunt. you don’t know how long he’s kept this brutal pace up—all you can make out is the wild look in his eyes and his sweat-drenched body, fucking into you as if he’s gone into heat.

“fuuuuuuck-,” his voice is low and drawn out, the guttural noise coming from somewhere deep in his throat. his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly, and his shaking eyes are blown open wide as he drinks in the sight of you folded underneath him.

your wrists are unbelievably smooth. he grips at them with one hand, easily pinning them over your head and pinning you down underneath him. his thumb runs over the soft flesh of your wrists, and his cock twitches dangerously inside you when he can feel the lively thrum of your veins underneath.

you wince when his grip on your wrists tighten. your stomach lurches and twists into knots as kageyama pounds into you, every inch of his swollen cock burying into your tight hole. “you’re being so rough…! so rough- you’re so deep inside me!”

“good,” he drawls. he draws his hips back and snaps them at a harsh angle. heat floods your heavy head, and it makes your back arch involuntarily. “i know you can take it. you’ve taken me like this before.”

kageyama thinks you look absolutely ravishing. your hands, your pretty wrists, are just so small when they’re held captive under his palm. your tits bounce every time he fucks his cock deep into you, and the knot that coils inside of his abs drives him insane. you’re just so pretty, and kageyama is obsessed with you. he knows he’s someone that enjoys a lot of international attention given his successful career, but when you’re thrown into the mix, he feels less like the handsome setter people know him to be and more like a hormonal teenage boy that’s popping a boner after looking at his class crush.

except this time, you’re actually folded underneath him, all for him to lavish his attention onto.

pleasure flashes behind your eyes, shooting straight to your brain. your legs are shaky and numb. the sheets underneath you are wet and damp, all thanks to kageyama holding you in this mating press position for what felt like eternity, fucking you over and over until both of your orgasms were making a mess. your thighs are sticky, the remnants of your own juices and spurts of his white cum staining your skin.

you can’t think past the overstimulation buzzing in your mind. there’s something mounting inside your guts, and it throbs. it has a pulse of its own, craving so much more of kageyama’s body. you want him to fill you up with more of his cum, to stuff your womb full, to have him break you body and soul, for him to indulge in that awful greedy part of him that can’t seem to get enough of you.

“tobio- tobio, please-,” you beg. you know how intense he can get, especially when he’s staring down at you more like prey than a human, and your pussy unconsciously clenches around him. he groans under his breath, but his gaze on you doesn’t waver. “it’s too much- you’re too much, tobio!”

“it’s your fault.” a line of sweat trickles down his face, and a bead of it dangles from the tip of his nose. you’re acutely aware of every muscle in his body: the edge of his pecs, his toned abs, the pretty v-lines on his stomach that lead you down into his long dick, ramming into you. every part of him was made to torture you lovingly like this, morphing you from his picture perfect girlfriend into a toy made to serve only his pleasure.

“ah-! haah- you’re going to kill me- please, ‘m gonna cum again! i can’t- i can’t cum anymore-,” you sob pathetically. you whimper and squirm to no avail as his hips keep grinding up against you. his length slides in and out of you with little resistance, your own wetness providing him the right amount of lubrication for kageyama to mold your hole into the perfect shape of his cock.

“it’s all your fault,” he repeats. he sounds downright animalistic and cold. “it’s all because of how pretty you are. walking around in shorts with your bare legs out, rubbing your eyes when you’re tired, flashing me your tits when you get out of the shower… it’s like you want me to fuck you.”

a strangled cry escapes you, and the sound goes straight to kageyama’s cock. your face twists in pleasure again, and kageyama’s determined to rip another orgasm straight from your cunt. the pressure around your wrist spikes, his nails digging into you. the flash of pain that shoots through your eyelids grounds you a little, but not before his obscene thrusts grow faster.

his other hand clutches the headboard, and your pussy throbs when you hear how forcefully the headboard crashes into the wall. kageyama’s being uncharacteristically rough with you, and the sound of the bed moving with his thrusts spins inside your head.

slam.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good,” he mutters.

slam.

“you feel good, don’t you?” his knuckles whiten as he grips the headboard.

slam.

“‘m gonna make you cum. gonna use that pussy of yours and make myself cum too,” he pants. “that sounds good. i’m going to give you another creampie. fuck! fuuuuck-! you’re so fucking tight-”

“tobio-,” you sound like a broken record, but you can only gasp out his name. your pussy keeps milking him, and just imagining kageyama forcing another round of his cum into you turns you on more than it should. “please, tobio- tobio- ah- ahh- hmnnh…! g-give it to me- i want you to give me another creampie…”

kageyama likes it. he likes hearing you moan out his name. he likes knowing that he’s the man on top of you, making sure that you know you belong to him. he also loves it when you beg for him to cum inside of you like that. his balls tighten dangerously at the thought of cumming inside your hole again. just thinking about you whimpering as he explodes inside of you or the way his semen might slowly drip out of your abused cunt is almost enough to make him bust right there and then.

he grits his teeth, and he barely holds himself back. he can’t, not yet. he’s going to make you cum first and only then will he let him lose complete control of himself.

the bottom of your palms and your delicate wrists keep rubbing against his bigger hands. you’re just so small compared to him, and your hands—your fucking hands! lust blinds kageyama momentarily. your hands are so tiny, so smooth, and they’re nothing like his. his are rough and hard and made to slam his opponents down to maintain his superiority, to establish his beloved throne as the unchallenged king of the court, and they’re exquisitely made to shove you underneath into perfect submission.

he wants to see your hands in every way that you can offer him. he needs to see your fingertips trickle down his chest and waist, feel you wrap your fingers around his hardening cock, hold your palms down as he fucks you over and over again. you’re his, all his, and he needs to just physically feel the way you give in to him. he’s always gripping onto your hands and wrists, either pinning you down or lovingly interlacing his fingers into yours as he has his way with you.

“okay,” he almost laughs. “yeah- i can do that- i’ll give you another creampie. i’ll give you as many fucking creampies as you want.”

you throw your head back, making a bunch of incoherent cries. your body shakes uncontrollably underneath kageyama, and your lower half aches from brutally taking him for so long. but when he’s being this possessive over you and making it clear that he won’t accept anything other than you taking all of his love, how could you not want to soak it all up?

your horny mind can only think of one thing. all you can register and think of his dick pounding into you, fucking you, making you melt under his touch. no matter how much you squirm or arch your back against him, kageyama has you held down so firmly in place that you just have to take him.

“take it- take it!” he hisses through gritted teeth. “you’re not going anywhere. you’re not running away from me. you said you wanted it, so i’m going to give it to you. you’re mine- c’mon, be good for me…!”

red hot pleasure claws at your skin. it prickles and drips over you like molten metal, covering you from head to toe. your hands curl helplessly into fists, and the callouses on kageyama’s palms rub against your wrists.

“yes- please- i need more of you, tobio!” your begging is sweet to his ears. he wants to bottle it at all up and keep it forever. he could do the sleazy thing and record it for his own whims, but why do that when he can just fuck you and make you sound like this again? every bit of you is too much for his dense mind, and all he can register is how perfect you are in his eyes. he loves hearing you. swapping between your airy gasps and mewls of his name, he just wants to devour you whole. you have him entranced, and kageyama doesn’t ever want to escape.

your hips start moving in rhythm with him, and you clench your eyes shut. “cum in me, cum in me, please…! i don’t need anything else- need only you! i wanna cum- wanna cum with you- tobio, i can’t take it anymore…!”

some deep sadistic part of him enjoys hearing you this desperate for him. he’s sure it’s only a fraction of the madness he holds for you, but you’re getting a taste of it. kageyama’s never been too lucky in love ever since he was young, always being the selfish weirdo who only cared about volleyball, so when he fell for you, it was like he fell without even thinking about any of the consequences. why wouldn’t he give his everything to you wholeheartedly? in his mind, there was no room for regret, no need to look behind.

the headboard rattles violently against the walls, scraping and banging and slamming against it. if the neighbors are in, they definitely know what the two of you are up to. good. kageyama wants them to hear, wants someone else in the world to know that you belong to him. no one else could ravish you like this, make your body writhe and coil in pleasure like this, utterly entrance him like this.

he growls, “go ahead. cum for me."

his dick twitches and throbs like a second pulse deep inside your cunt, and the stretch your walls feel is nothing short of heavenly. he won’t quit barrelling into you, that awful competitive streak in him refusing to die out even during sex.

your eyes are glossing over. the pounding in your head refuses to abate, and you’re teetering dangerously on the edge. your boyfriend’s thrusts are more frantic, faster, cock slipping in and out of you fully as his tip bullies your abused insides.

“c-cumming…!” you can’t physically take anymore. the pleasure bleeds in between the liminal space of goodness and pain, of heaven and hell, leaving you shaking in its aftermath. you throw your head back, your spine arching like a cat. your chest collides with his, and you squirm violently, pressed down onto the mattress helplessly against his full weight. “i’m cumming! cumming, cumming, tobio! fuck- tobio- ah…!”

warmth shoots through you as if you’ve been dragged underwater. you can’t breathe, your windpipe frozen as pleasure overwhelms you. heat blooms inside your chest and spreads through you, like a poison paralyzing you within your own skin from inside out. your nerves can’t register anything else. all that’s on your mind is your boyfriend and how good he’s making you feel, the inches of his cock dragging painfully in and out of your clenching hole, fucking you violently through your orgasm.

your insides clench up, coiling like a fear-stricken beast. your vision swims, and the edges grow hazy. tears gather in the corners of your eyes, clinging to your lashes as they threaten to fall over and onto your cheeks. kageyama gasps, the sight of you breaking down making him falter just a beat.

you mewl out, “tobio-! tobio, tobio, please- cumming feels so- soooo good…!”

kageyama flinches, and a high-strung hiss escapes his teeth. he squares his jaw as you flutter all around him, body going limp underneath him as your high overtakes you. the bed creaks as his hips grind up against you, and when you let out one final pathetic mewl of his name, he grips onto your wrists with a fervor you’ve never felt before.

you’re so small. so beautiful, so delicate, everything that he isn’t.

“fuck…!”

kageyama comes with a strangled cry, the feeling of your smooth wrists underneath his pushing him over. he buries himself as far as he can into you. you cry out as spurts of hot cum invade your insides, stretching your walls out further as they struggle to take both his load and his cock buried inside you. it burns, but it feels good, like proof of you taking a physical part of his unconditional love.

his hips stutter, and he barely chokes back his moans. you’re squeezing him so tightly, milking every drop of cum out of his length. he wants to keep rutting against your cunt, rubbing every single inch of his needy cock against your insides until your hole is molded to the shape of his dick.

his balls twitch against the curve of your ass, and you’re held down in place. his fingers curl into the headboard, steadying himself as he sucks in a shaky inhale. your mind feels foggy, and you can’t push yourself through the hazy fuzz that settles on you. maybe kageyama’s mind is a bit clearer, but you doubt it, not when he spent the past few minutes fucking into you as if he was going into heat.

“...did you take it all?” his voice is hushed, quiet, like a whisper in a holy place. because that’s what kageyama does: cherish you until the end.

you nod weakly, your head heavy against the pillow. he grins down at you, practically glowing with a kind of possessive pride. you know that competitive streak in him all too well, and you know how insatiable he can get especially when you’re involved. you’re his, and he wants to devour whatever love you hold in your heart for him over and over again. if it weren’t so reverent, it would be almost dangerous.

he stays firmly planted inside of you, nearly crushing you underneath his weight as he lays on top of you. kageyama doesn’t want to pull out just yet, savoring the feeling of your bodies together as one. it’s warm, and it makes his chest feel tight, itching to feel more of your presence. but burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent is enough for him, especially when he’s done such a thorough job of railing you.

it amazes him, the difference between your bodies and yet how well you’re made to fit him. like two puzzle pieces connecting, he’s sure you’re his soulmate. no one else can fit that mantle, none other than you.

you blink slowly, and his hands trickle back to yours again. this time, they trail past your wrists, and his fingers carefully intertwine with yours. his calloused palms brush against yours, lithe fingers caressing your smaller ones.

he hopes your wrists are bruised because of him tomorrow. they're manifestations of his deeply driven devotion, after all.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #kageyama tobio #x reader #fem reader #my writing

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heartfullofleeches · 9 months

Note

JEALOUS FUCKGIRL YAN.. yknow if ya don't mind. Coughcoughilovegirlswhoaremean

She's impossible to read.

One minute she's all over you, next she's disappearing off into the crowd. You can always pick her out sooner than later, watching you like a hawk cozied up with someone side night cared to remember by morning. You've told yourself time and again this is just how she is with everyone. Sometimes the flirty, extroverted type just don't get they can't be that way with everyone before someone catches feelings, but it's that same attention that makes you feel like there's so much more going on between you. Maybe you're just overthinking it. As her closest resemblance to a friend, you know better than anyone she'd be a tough partner to have..

Friends...

"hey..."

Yea, that's what you are.

"Hey!"

Over the music and chattering crowd, it's understandable to mistake the voice as directed at someone else. It's when you look at the glossy eyes of your slightly inebriated floor mate that you realize they were talking to you. Taking your gaze, they crack a toothy smile as they move closer so you're able to hear over the music - eyes watching their every step.

"What's going on with you and Dylan? Saw you two walk in and hanging around town before. She's never been so public with one of her partners."

The punch at the bottom of your cup tastes more bitter than you remembered as you sip from it. "It's nothing like that. Had a rough week so she offered to take me somewhere tonight. We're just friends."

The stranger frowns, but their pity never reaches their eyes. "Shame. Seems like she lucked out this time cause you're kinda cute. What's your name?"

"It's-

"None of your damn business."

The scent of department store cologne and tobacco assaults your senses as her hands fall at your waist. You can feel the weight of her glare over your shoulder as the stranger sheepishly backs away from promity to you and her line of sight. Gripping your waist, she pulls you to her chest - shooting an arm around your neck to keep you pinned in place as she swallows her visible anger with whatever's left in your cup.

"Baby.." She draws with that honeyedly sweet tone only she could channel, resting her head against your cheek with a sigh as she holds you close. "I leave you alone for a second and you run off with a stranger. Never pegged you as the type to break a poor girl's heart, but here we are."

The stranger looks between the two of you as her breath fans your ear through her laughter, confusion and a hint of disappointment clear on their face. "Sorry, Dyl.. Not trying to steal your date or nothing. They said you guys were just friends..."

"We are!" You argue, unsure of your own defense as her lips meet the skin of your neck. "we..are.."

Moving to your collar, her teeth close as her arms tight around you - biting down with no real force behind it, but enough to leave a sting. "All I know is if you're not out of my fucking sight in the next ten seconds we're gonna have a big problem on our hands and depending on how settling it goes there might be a few teeth on the floor."

The stranger opens their mouth-

"10...."

Turning tail as she opens hers. Watching as they flee, you finally wriggle out of Dylan's arms enough to shove her away. "What the hell was that, Dylan."

She shrugs, having the nerve to look upset as you raise your voice. "What? They were getting in your space so I helped you out. You're welcome by the way."

"They were just talking to me- Why bring me to a public place and go talk to somebody else if you didn't want me mingling with others. Why do you always insist we're just friends to people then turn around and act like my girlfriend when people trying to get to know me. Do you want me to end up miserable and alone?"

Something snaps in Dylan's eyes at your accusations. Grabbing a fistful of your shirt she yanks you back towards her - ramming her lips and tongue against your sealed mouth as she clutches your jaw, applying pressure to pry you open for her. The taste of liquor and the tobacco you smelt on her prior spills onto your tongue; the jewelry of her inner piercing clashing against your teeth as she robs you of breath and grasp on whatever grounding your relationship had before this. Her hand dips into your back pocket as her husky eyes into yours - voice dropping to a whisper so the watching crowd hasn't a clue what she says. All that matters is that you do and understand your place.

"What we are doesn't matter right now. Only thing that does is that you are mine. Don't let anyone put any silly ideas in that pretty head that make you think that you're not. Do I make myself clear?"

You swallow the air you had been holding.

"Do. I. make myself clear."

"..yea."

"Good." Her face relaxes into the smile you've grown accustom to as she pats your cheek. "Good. Say I'd hate to have to remind you, but I've been told I'm a bad liar."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #female yandere #tw yandere #yandere drabble #Dylan my oc

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samkerrworshipper · 6 months

Text

pain, sweet, pain | leah williamson x arsenal team

leah’s return from her acl injury is nothing like what she wanted nor expected, but her team are there to help her up when she’s down.

content: hurt/comfort, angst, sadness, pain.

Leah’s never been a good loser.

Whether it was U8s playing with the boys, or playing for Arsenal, or playing for England.

She knows this, it’s both her biggest strength and weakness. She likes to think that it makes her a better player and person, because she experiences the highs and lows like nobody else, but realistically she knows that's just the part of her that hates that she feels so inherently deeply worthless when she team loses and it feels she's somewhat at fault.

Captain Leah would never in her wildest dreams blame a loss on anyone, because she plays an eleven person game, a team game, one person cannot take the sole blame for a whole 90 minutes plus stoppage time.

Leah, 26 year old Leah, who's just coming back from an ACL injury and feels like her world is ending, can’t do anything but blame herself.

Never in her life has Leah felt so worthless, so scared for the future.

She’s worked so hard, worked every single day of recovery, for her knee and for her mind.

She’d thought she was ready, and physically she is, but mentally absolutely nothing prepares you for the moment when you step back on the field for your first game as a starter and you play like absolute shite.

Leah’s worked for over a year, tirelessly, to get to this point, she’d dreamt about it her whole recovery, dreaming of a pinnacle, a perfect moment at the end of the treacherous path, it had seemed perfect.

Realistically, Leah knows that it was never going to look exactly like that, but she’d hoped for something more, happiness, joy, a good game, fulfilment above all else.

Yet, she’s left feeling the complete opposite.

Leah didn’t wait around on the pitch, she was inconsolable, and she knew it, she didn’t need fans seeing her vulnerable, she didn’t need Sarina who had travelled all this way to see Leah play look at Leah with that look of disappointment that you could always catch in the corner of her eye. Leah just couldn’t do it, she couldn’t ever bear to look at Kim, her captain who cared so deeply at her, she couldn’t face that, couldn’t face a woman who was the person who was supposed to keep her accountable but also pick her up when she’s down.

So Leah slips away, slips into the tunnel before she gets stuck in some stupid surface conversation with Alex or Jill, even though she’s desperate to catch up with them, she just can’t do it right now. Drawing with Man City feels like a loss, Arsenal are second on the ladder, the only team they should be drawing or losing to is Chelsea, or at least that’s what Leah’s brain is telling her.

She slips into the bathroom, going unnoticed by anybody in the tunnel and keeping her eyes on her cleats as she makes her way into the away team lockers.

Leah doesn’t sit down, she moves straight to the bathroom, stepping into the first stall and locking the door behind her before she slides down onto the floor, bringing her knees to her chest and her head down onto her kneecaps.

Leah can’t breathe, Leah can’t think, all Leah can do is sit on the floor, contemplating whether it was all really worth it, whether the fucking months of blood, sweat and tears amounted to this. She doesn’t think so, Leah’s telling herself that all of that time, all the wishful thinking, all of the bullshit that she put up with is pointless.

She is Leah Williamson, England Captain, European champion.

Yet she had never felt more like an imposter in her own body.

Alex and Beth had told her about how playing her first full game would be the best moment of her life, especially after sitting out for a whole year.

It was a big step, sure, she’d been getting on the pitch, but being on for ten minutes of stoppage time hardly counted as playing, when Jonas had told her that he planned to have her start the Man City match Leah was excited, ecstatic even, in hindsight it was false confidence.

“Le, honey, are you in there?”

Leah realises that there are tears rolling down her cheeks, subconscious tears of anguish that she hurries to swipe away with the hem of her jersey.

Leah tries to silence herself, for long enough that Lia will leave her be, but she inevitably knows that even though Lia phrased it as a question, she knows Leah is hiding in the stall.

Leah and Lia are…. confusing.

Especially for Leah.

It’s this weird friends with benefits arrangement that somehow started after Caitlin and Lia broke up, it wasn’t very long after Leah and Jordan had broken up and one drunken celebratory night they fell into eachothers bedsheets.

It was blurred lines, sex and emotions that neither of them were ready to face.

Leah loved Lia, in so many ways, but she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t be vulnerable in front of a person that she had frequent casual sex with.

The sex was a confidence booster, for both of them, it made them both feel better, stronger, and Leah was fairly certain that Lia seeing her like this would wreck that.

“Le, baby, open up for me?”

Leah knows that she’s shaking, it’s the middle of fucking winter in London and she’s sitting in a tiled, cold bathroom in nothing more than her uniform. She doesn’t care though, she doesn’t care about anything, the only thing she is thinking about is how the fuck she is going to return to the locker rooms without looking like a complete fucking wreck.

“Leave me alone Lia, I’m fine.”

It’s a blatant lie, both women know it. The breakage and croakiness in Leah’s voice is enough of a sign.

“Don’t be like this Le, whatevers up, we can sort it out together, just open up the door.”

Leah can feel the sickness rising up in her throat, can feel the pain and anxiety coursing through her bloodstream.

“Lia I told you to fuck off, get the fuck out, I’m fine.”

Leah only just manages to get the expletives out before reaching for the bowl of the toilet, the sound of gagging filling the silent bathroom.

Leah hates the acidic flavour that rises up from her throat and directly out of her mouth into the bowl, the clear white being tarnished with the slightly orange tinged bile, Leah supposed it was probably from the gatorade that had been handed out at half time.

“Le, honey, you can open the door for me, I won’t judge you.”

Leah knows that Lia is just trying to be nice, that the Swiss woman really does have a heart of gold and would never judge Leah, not even at her darkest moment. But her mind is betraying her, everything she believes in seems false.

“Lia get the fuck out.”

It’s almost a scream, definitely a yell.

The overwhelming silence that comes after it is deafening.

Then Leah’s ears are blessed with the sound of cleats slowly trailing away from her, it’s the first time since the whistle blew at the start of the game that she feels just a smidge of peace.

Leah tries to pick herself up from the floor, at least the toilet bowl, but it’s a losing battle, the uneasiness in her stomach suddenly forcing more bile up her throat.

Leah hadn’t eaten this morning, so most of it was just bile and liquids that she’d had before the game and at halftime, it burned her throat, making the already abundant ache so much more prominent.

It’s just as Leah is finally pulling her head out, swiping her long blonde ponytail out of the way that she hears the sound of a loud and deft knock against the stall door.

“Leah Williamson, open up, right now.”

Leah’s body shivers more than it was before, whatever gods are up there, she just prays that Kim didn’t hear her vomiting, or crying, or anything.

“I’m fine Kim, leave me alone.”

Leah sounds even more of a mess than she did a few minutes ago when she was trying to convince Lia of the same thing.

“I didn’t ask if you were fine, I told you to open the door.”

Kim’s Scottish accent is so deep, so enunciated in the way it always seems to be when she’s using her stern captain's voice.

“Kim, please just leave.”

Leah is pleading, something that she hates to do, but if Kim asks her once more with that voice she knows she’s not going to resist. So she’s not necessarily pleading to be left alone, but she is pleading for Kim to not push, to not force her to do something she doesn’t want to.

“Leah Cathrine, open the door now, if I have to ask again I will exercise other options to get to you.”

Leah hates how responsive she is to Kim’s voice, she doesn’t manage to get herself up from the bowl, but she does manage to reach one of her long and gangly arms up to the lock and flip it to the side, leaving the door unlocked.

It takes Kim a total of a second to fling the door open.

She doesn’t waste time in the doorframe looking Leah up and down, she steps into the stall, locking the door behind her immediately and sitting down against the door, where Leah had previously been sat.

Kim doesn’t say anything, pretends that she doesn’t notice the tear tracks and snot all over Leah’s face. Instead she extends a windbreaker out towards Leah. Leah shakes her head and Kim just shakes her head, still holding her arm out.

“Leah take the fucking jacket, I won’t be the one to tell your mother that you got hypothermia because you refused to put a jacket on after a game.”

Then it hits Leah, there are people here, at the game, for her.

Her mother, grandmother, father, brother.

Keira even managed to make the trip down just for this game, and yet Leah is crumpled over in a loo, having a fucking breakdown.

Kim shoves the jacket at Leah, and Leah just gives in, pulling it around her shoulders but leaving her arms out so she doesn’t have to remove them from the toilet seat, out of fear that whatever is left contained in her stomach will arise.

Leah and Kim stay that way for a while, Kim just sitting and watching Leah carefully, whilst Leah clutches onto the toilet seat.

She vomits once again, but this time it’s just stomach acid, it burns but it makes her stomach rest a little bit easier, easy enough for Leah to push herself up from the toilet bowl and rest against the wall beside her, so she’s diagonal from Kim.

“Don’t you have teammates to pep up?”

Kim just furrowed her eyebrows at Leah.

“Yes, you.”

Leah grimaces at that answer, she isn’t normally the consoled, normally the consoler, taking up the same job that Kim is right now.

“There are people who have bigger problems right now than I do.”

Kim nods, which throws Leah off a little bit.

“Yes, there are, but I think you’ve been needing this a lot longer than you’d care to admit.”

Leah can’t look at Kim’s eyes, can’t bear the amount of concern that is being directed at her, so she keeps her eyes on her cleats.

They’re muddy, and sopping wet, and Leah’s feet are shivering like crazy, her toes numb from the cold.

“Needing what?”

The question hangs in the air, empty but yet also so full with wonder.

“Needing attention, comfort, vulnerability, needing to not be the invincible Leah Williamson for a minute.”

Leah can’t disagree with Kim, even if she wanted to, it’s just a lie that Kim would catch her out on, and she’s dealt with enough disappointment today.

“I should be happy, on cloud nine, it’s my first game back.”

Leah’s voice betrays her, betrays every single thing that she’s wishing she was feeling.

“There isn’t anything you should be, there are things you can want to feel, but there’s no exact way that you should be feeling right now. Remember Viv’s comeback? Recovery isn’t linear Leah, you know that.”

Kim’s scolding her a little bit, she knows how to get through to Leah, she needs tough love, none of the soft pity bullshit.

“I played like shit, you should be yelling at me not sitting on the bathroom floor with me looking at me like I’m a kicked puppy.”

Kim cocks her head, this is how she works her way in, she doesn’t even have to ask the questions, she just slowly works the answers out, she can play the long game.

“You missed a few passes and intercepts, it's not the end of the world, so did everyone. Do you think I should be yelling at them? We had a bad game Leah, it happens.”

Kim’s words are strong, passionate, but Leah knows there is a lingering question hanging beneath them.

“Leah, how are you doing?”

It’s such a bleak question, so simple but yet so impossible to answer.

“I’m fine, I’m good, I’m back on the pitch, I’m happy.”

It’s all lies, Leah is fairly certain that she hasn’t felt fine or good in a few weeks now, and definitely not happy. She doesn’t think she deserves to feel happy, especially not when she’s been playing how she has.

“You know that you don’t have to sugar coat things with me, you don’t need to lie to me for the sake of trying to get me to leave you alone, it won’t work.”

Kim is probably the most stubborn and selfless person Leah knows, it’s normally the thing she admires most about the Scot, but right now she couldn’t detest it more.

“Leah, you do know it’s okay to be upset, or annoyed, you're coming back from a major injury, I’d be concerned if you weren’t feeling some of those things.”

Kim’s words are reassurances, she’s trying to send Leah into a false sense of comfort, enough comfort that she’ll start to open up to Kim, that she’ll finally let all of her walls and mental barricades down.

“Kim, seriously, I’m fine.”

Kim exhales, deeply, she’s letting go of her lenient side, breathing it out and expelling the soft part of her that was dancing circles around Leah’s mental state, hoping that she’d open up on her own, but it was crystal clear that was Leah was not going to be volunteering that information.

“Leah, have you been struggling?”

It’s a blunt question, and as Leah looks up at Kim with complete shock and fear on her face she can’t find anything besides concern and questioning in her eyes.

“What does that matter?”

It’s a deflection, a weak one, an attempt at trying to pivot Kim, Leah knows subconsciously though that it’s not going to work, Kim sees through it.

“I’m worried about you, I know a lot of the team is. I know you’re struggling Leah, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Leah forces herself to take a deep breath, the unwavering depth in her Captain’s eyes is unmissable, tormenting her from a metre away.

“Leah for the last month you’ve looked like you’re on the cusp of a nervous breakdown, and that’s okay, there is nothing wrong with that. But feeling that way for a whole month isn’t normal.”

Leah knows Kim is right, the older Scot is hardly ever wrong, she’s only seven years older than Leah, but sometimes Kim seems wiser than her mother, sometimes she treats Leah like her daughter, this moment is one of those moments.

“Kim, please just leave me alone.”

Leah is pleading, begging, praying that Kim will just leave her be, stop trying to make her feel things that she doesn’t want to.

“I’ll shut up but I’m not leaving you alone, not when you feel like this.”

Leah feels like Kim knows what she’s feeling better than Leah does, and that’s a weird feeling, knowing that Kim knows exactly what swirly weird thoughts are happening in Leah’s confusing brain.

“Leah, you’re obviously not doing very well.”

Leah cuts Kim off before she can say much more, because she’s honestly sick of hearing Kim’s half lecturing half concerned voice in her ear.

“Thanks for stating the obvious Kim, no, I’m not doing fucking well, I’m pretty sure a blind man could figure it out, so please, for gods sakes, leave me the fuck alone.”

In some strange way, it’s like music to Kim’s ear, hearing Leah openly admit her problems, because it means that Kim is slowly easing her up, slowly getting her to hone in on her emotions.

“Leah, talk to me, what’s up?”

All of a sudden Leah’s face contorts into one of genuine pain, and Kim feels her gut drop for a second.

“Kim I need you to just leave me the fuck alone like I’ve already fucking asked you too.”

Kim likes to think that she’s fairly lenient, she knows how much her girls, her teammates, can take. She knows how to handle most situations, and to an outsider, in this situation they’d probably say that Kim should leave Leah alone.

Kim knows Leah, just like she knows everybody else on the team. She knows that Leah, in all of her stubbornness and masking, often needs someone there for her, although she’d never admit it.

“Leah Cathrine, you can be as angry as you’d like, but you won’t talk to me or anybody like that, especially someone who is just trying to look out for you. Now, I’ll ask you once again, and give you the opportunity to answer me honestly before I haul your ass out of here and onto the bus. Leah, you know that I would never judge you, nobody on this team will ever judge you, and if they do they’ll have me to deal with. We all love you so much, you’re our Leah, our baby girl, and we all just want the best for you.”

Leah forces herself to take a breath, she feels more tears falling down her face as Kim’s words truly start to impact her.

“Sarina’s here, and I played like shit. My knee fucking kills, the olympics are in two months and I’m playing like shit. I’ve never had anxiety, never had a panic attack besides the euro finals, and all of a sudden, I’m a emotional fucking wreck and can’t get my shit together, I need to be better.”

Kim takes a good look at Leah’s franticness, it’s so unlike her, but also not unexpected.

“Leah, take some deep breaths for me honey, use your diaphragm.”

Kim’s voice has dropped a few octaves, and it’s lost all of the tension that was previously in it.

“Everyone on the team thinks I’m weak, stupid and weak, fucking useless.”

Kim stops Leah’s ramble before she takes it too far.

“Leah, listen to me. You are not weak, or stupid, or useless, or anything that your brain is telling you. You are recovering from a devastating injury. You are not perfect. You are doing your best.”

Leah looks up at Kim, with big doe eyes full of tears, she looks so helpless, like a young child.

“You are Sarina’s captain Leah, she’s going to pick you for the olympics. She’d be crazy not too, and if she doesn’t, which isn’t going to happen but with the off chance, then we can go watch them, or we can stay in London and work on your recovery. There will be people around, friends, family. You will not be alone.”

Leah doubts Kim, even though her captain sounds so sure she can’t help but feel a little bit insecure. Millie’s been doing her job for almost a year now, and she’s been doing a bloody good job of it, it makes Leah wonder if Sarina is even going to want her back, especially when her and Millie play the same position on the pitch.

“Leah, honey, I say this as someone who loves you and cares about you more than you’ll ever know. If your knee is hurting, then you should be telling the trainers, and not pushing it. You know your body, and if it’s hurting you need to rest. I know that you want to be playing, and you're finally allowed to so it’s this big deal, but you need to listen to your body and not hurt yourself further. I don’t want to have to tell Jonas and the trainers that you are playing through pain, so I need you to do it, before I bench you for endangering yourself.”

Kim hates how broken Leah looks, and if she could she’d pick Leah up and give her a big hug and say sorry for everything that she’s going through, and she’ll get to that, but right now, Leah is the most impressionable, and this is Kim’s chance to get through to her.

“Leah, every single person on this team loves you, no matter what. This team, this family, all of the love is completely unconditional, you don’t have to put on a brave face for them, I can guarantee you that if we walked into that locker room right now all they would want to do is make sure that you are okay. Nobody is here to condemn you, or make you feel like shit. We all care about you Leah, we’re all worried about you, not mad or angry.”

Leah looks up at Kim, her wobbling bottom lip between her teeth and tears, she looks so gutted, so much smaller than she really is.

“I failed them.”

It’s the first words that have left Leah’s mouth in a while, and it sends a sob barrelling directly from her lips.

This sob, this breakage, this sign of outward weakness speaks volumes to Kim, and it has her scooching over so she’s sitting beside Leah, their shoulders brushing up against each other. When Leah leans into the contact Kim raises one of her arms, putting it across the back of Leah’s shoulder blades and bringing the younger defender into her body.

Kim leans down, pressing her lips to Leah’s forehead, letting them linger for a little bit.

“Leah, honey, no matter what, you could never fail any of us, even if you had ten own goals in a final, none of us could care less, your our Le, our super star. You could never fail us.”

Leah forces herself to take a deep breath, to compose herself, Leah Williamson does not cry.

Except today, today she does, for so many different reasons, and yet absolutely no reason.

“I just don’t want to disappoint anybody, everyone needs me to be good, everyone expects me to be good.”

It’s like a mantra to Leah, a reminder, it’s her bible.

Leah Williamson does not lose, Leah Williamson does not disappoint, Leah Williamson cannot be a failure.

Yet today, it feels like she’s done all of those things, and it’s too much for her, too much for her heart to handle.

“Leah, I’m not wanting to rush you, we can sit here for as long as we have to for you to feel better, but the bus is waiting for us, and I know the girls really want to see you. Plus, my old lady knees are starting to cramp up in here.”

It’s lighthearted, but Leah feels the pressure fall down on her chest like a stack of heavy bricks.

Kim sees the change, and she does exactly what Leah needs, she brings her into her lap for a bone breaking hug.

“They’re going to be mad.”

Leah’s voice is a murmur, low and so quiet that Kim almost misses it.

“Leah I can promise you nobody in that room is going to be mad at you, proud, happy, overjoyed, yes. But one hundred percent not mad. We’ll go out there, get you changed out of these freezing clothes, you can talk to whoever you’d like to. We’ll leave the changerooms, there will probably be people there to talk to you, maybe Sarina, maybe so people from the press, probably your mum. Talk to whoever you want to, then we’ll hop on the bus and get back to the hotel. Okay? I just need you to be brave for me and do it, because I know you can, all of us girls know you can, okay?”

It takes Leah a little bit to nod in agreement with Kim, but eventually she does, her head lifting from its spot buried in Kim’s windbreaker.

“C’mon then, let’s get you up.”

Kim uses all of her strength to lift herself up off the floor, the pre match soreness has settled into her bones and muscles and she makes an internal joke about the old age really starting to get to her.

Once she’s stood up properly she reaches to pull Leah up, even if her back is aching and her knees are sore.

Leah’s unsteady on her legs, like a baby with sealegs, or a newborn baby horse. Kim has to quite literally manhandle Leah into leaning onto her, her arms wrapped around Kim’s much smaller form.

It’s uncomfortable, but Kim makes do, unlocking the stall and dragging Leah over to the sink.

“Wash your face off honey.”

Leah takes one look at herself in the mirror and is instantly shocked, her eyes are thoroughly red rimmed, puffy and altogether Leah just looks like a complete mess.

She leans down to the sink, turning the faucet and washing some of the ice cold water over her face. It doesn’t do much, it doesn’t really do anything besides wipe the tear stains from her face and make a little bit of the redness subside. Not enough to make it look like she hasn’t been crying herself sick, and definitely not enough to make it look like she has her shit together.

She wants to tell Kim to go ahead without her, but one look at the Scottish captain through the mirror tells Leah that anything she says is going to be useless.

So she swallows and spits a little bit of water to clean the acid taste from her mouth and then she stands herself up, righting her uniform and leaning herself back onto Kim, her legs and stomach feeling as uneasy as her current metal state.

When Kim makes it to the door of the bathroom, Leah feels her stomach drop, plummeting to her feet. Kim doesn’t hesitate, even with Leah draping her studs down against the concrete.

Leah keeps her head down, completely ashamed and unable to look at the faces of any of her teammates.

Kim leads her over to her cubby, sitting her down on the seat gently before sitting herself down in front of Leah, pulling off her soaked cleats and leaving them on the floor for later.

“Leah, honey, look at me please.”

Leah struggles to take her eyes from her lap, where her hands are sitting, fiddling aimlessly with the skin around her nail beds.

She eventually does though, keeping her eyes solely focused on Kim’s face, not letting her eyes travel to any of her teammates.

“You need to get changed, but my knees are really sore so I don’t think I can hold you up by myself, I need to go see one of the trainers. Who would you like to help you?”

No one.

That’s the answer that bounces around Leah’s head.

“I can do it myself.”

Leah’s words come from a stubborn mindset, the mindset that is making her feel even sicker for being so openly vulnerable.

“How about Viv and Beth, or Katie, or Jen?”

Leah hates all of the options, because they all include her having to be vulnerable with more people.

“I can do it myself.”

Kim rolls her eyes, her face still as stern and set as ever.

“It’s not up for argument Leah, I’m going to go get Viv, okay?”

If Leah had to make a choice, it would have been either Beth or Viv, because both of them have been through what she has, but Viv is the better option, because she won’t try and make jokes with Leah.

So Leah allows Kim to get up from the floor in front of her, and wander off to wherever she has too, to find Viv.

It’s about thirty seconds later that a pair of white nike shoes show up beside Leah’s sock covered feet.

“Leah, liefje, kom voor mij op?” Leah, love, stand up for me?

Leah’s not fluent in Dutch, she can’t speak a word of the language besides some simple conversation and basic terms of endearment, but for whatever reason she understands Viv perfectly.

Using the wall of her cubby as a crutch, she stands herself up, looking at Viv with a lot of questioning in her eyes.

Viv doesn’t wait for permission, she just reaches for the bottom of Leah’s jersey, lifting it up until Leah’s forced to put her arms up so Viv can pull it over her head.

Before leah’s left shivering, Viv’s helping her pull a long sleeve top and hoodie over her body, making her once freezing body a little bit warmer.

Once Viv has the hoodie pulled around Leah tightly she moves to her shorts, once again not waiting for permissions and tugging them as well as her compression shorts down.

Before she tugs the sweatpants on though, she secures a knee brace and ice pack to Leah’s knee.

Leah’s almost embarrassed about the fact that she nearly moans when the ice makes contact with her knee, the cold contrast feeling so incredible on her inflamed and sore skin.

Viv then moves onto the sweatpants, pulling Leah’s feet through the bottoms of them and then pulling them up and over her knees gently before securing the pants loosely around Leah’s hips.

Once her clothes are on, and Leah is feeling a little bit happier and spacey from the welcome warmth, Viv sits her back down on the bench.

She pulls Leah’s socks off, dutch simplicity leaving her lips as she gently applies, newer and softer socks to Leah’s feet, Viv’s warm hands gently rubbing over Leah’s feet as she pulls the socks over her toes and ankle, before pulling out a pair of ugg boots that Leah has never seen before and tugging them onto her feet.

Normally, Leah would revolt against the break of uniform, but she’s too tired, too vulnerable, too broken to care.

Viv can apparently tell, because in a few seconds time there is a group of girls flanking her, all with the same soft, calm expressions on their faces.

Katie, Beth, Viv, Jen and Lia.

“Hey baby girl, time to get you to the bus hey?”

It’s Beth’s gentle voice, quiet and soft.

“M’ sorry.”

It’s the only thing going through Leah’s brain, endlessly repeating like a record that keeps replaying.

“Hey, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for and we’ll talk about it on the bus, but we just need to get you there, okay? So Viv and Jen are going to help you, Katie will grab your things and I’ll make sure that any press stragglers stay away, okay?”

Leah feels defeated, and broken, but she nods anyway.

Jen and Viv reach down to pull her up, Beth leading the way out of the change rooms and back into the tunnel. Luckily, there are no stragglers, and the trip is fairly easy, Kim joining the group somewhere along the way with ice packs secured to both of her knees but she looks as if she's in good enough spirits.

They manage to manhandle Leah onto the bus and into a seat, cocooned between Kim and a window.

Kim whispers sweet nothings in her ear the whole ride home, reassurances that Leah doesn’t really hear with her ringing ears.

It’s actually Viv who brings Leah out of her trance, pulling Kim out of her seat beside her so Viv can sit down.

Leah, liefde, listen to me for a second please.”

Leah takes a deep breath.

“You did everything you could have, we all did everything we could have, this is not your fault nor your burden to take. None of us will accept you taking the burden for this. You can’t allow yourself to, because this,” Viv’s hand falls on Leah’s puffed up knee, covered with an ice pack, butLeah understands what she means.

“Is not going to get better if you don’t allow yourself to heal mentally. We’re all here for you, we’re all going to carry you when you are down, please Leah, for me, for your mum, for anybody, just let yourself rest. We’ll review, and as a team we will get better, but we need you beside us getting better as well, we need you out here leading the team, like we all know you can. Take a night, reflect and then come back tomorrow with the mindset that you have something to prove, to us, to Jonas, to Sarina, yes?”

Leah looks at Viv, looks at how genuine she is, how she definitely knows exactly what Leah is feeling.

The words linger for a few seconds, before a mass of Arsenal hoodies are piling on top of Leah and Viv, a struggle of arms and hands securing themselves around Leah.

It’s warm, happy and loving.

It’s everything that Leah has been working to create in this environment for years, not for herself, for everyone around her. But having it come back to her, it hits her like a freight train, and suddenly, or not so suddenly, Leah realises that she’s not doing everything by herself, she doesn’t have to when this is her team.

#woso #woso community #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x arsenal #kim little #baby vivi #vivianne miedema #leah makes me cry #i love leah williamson #golden retriever leah vibes #love angst #i love some hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #im hurtin #marry me rn

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nahoney22 · 9 months

Text

Dirty Whispers***

All Bad Batch Boys X F!Reader

How the boys react to you talking dirty into their ears in a crowded room.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, implied sexual content, flirting, slightly cheesy, explicit language, dirty talk, female reader, with Hunters it’s insinuated that reader has tattoos, with Crosshairs he’s quite dom towards the end. established and non-established relationships. Brief mention of alcohol.

Authors notes: big thanks to @eyecandyeoz & @raevulsix who gave me inspiration for this work as I’ve been drawing blanks all week. 😵‍💫🩵

Echo

The mission unfolded smoothly, with everything going according to plan and the group right on schedule. However, a momentary standstill shifted the focus onto Echo. Amidst surveying the surroundings of the room you're trapped in, you, along with the rest of the team and the five rescued prisoners, identified an accessible circuit that could make or break the situation. Luckily, Echo just so happened to possess the exact tool required for the job.

He gets to work and after a few minutes you get bored of waiting around and found yourself feeling a little... naughty.

You had been flirting with Echo for a long while now and judging by how he acts around you, you're fairly certain he feels something for you aswell. Though his flirting is not particularly reciprocated back, his flushed expression, gentlemanly manners and shy stuttering was too cute to ignore.

You kneel down next to him, everyone else in their own conversations and smile softly at him. "Any luck?"

"This system is a bit intricate. Usually, plugging into terminals and computers isn't a challenge but this coding is new.," he responded with a sigh, his brows furrowing in deep concentration.

Humming softly, you took a daring step, leaning in until your lips brushed his ear, causing his scomp to momentarily pause. "I might have something simpler for you to plug into," you whispered, the hint of innuendo igniting a fire across his skin, his stomach fluttering and excitement stirring in his pants.

He pulled away, wide-eyed and taken aback by your flirtatious advance. Yet, as you tilted your head with a feigned innocence, his scomp spun to life again, generating sparks that held promise. The door hissed open successfully.

"I knew you could do it," you grinned, acting as though nothing provocative had been said, before joining the others in making your exit.

He stands back for a few moments, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow. "She's not wrong." He mutters to himself with a small smirk, knowing he had to get you alone tonight.

Hunter

When the time came to redecorate your armour, you were happy to design your gear anyway you wanted to. However one day, a certain design catches Hunters attention.

You’re all in the Marauder, going through gear inspections when Hunter came towards you and points to your chest plate. “Mind if I take a look?”

You nod simply, offering him a smile as you unclipped the armour from your body and passed it over. You grew curious however as he traced his finger over a particular drawing you implemented into the artwork. “See something you like?”

He chuckles but nods. “Didn’t take you for someone who likes to doodle.”

You shrug, “Only sometimes. All my armour pieces have different designs.”

“Oh yeah? Mind if you show me?” His eyes dance with mischief and your heart fluttered as you knew he was flirting with you which wasn’t uncommon recently.

Then, a lightbulb appears above your head. You take a step closer to him, glancing at the others who seems to be in their own mind before standing on the tips of your toes towards his ear, lips brushing against his lobe and breath fanning over his skin. “You know… all these customs aren’t just on my gear. I could show you more tonight?”

He inhales sharply and closes his eyes, easily imagining your nude skin etched in designs that you were clearly willing to show him. He looks to his brothers, none of them seeing the exchange between the two of you. “I really like that idea,” then, he leans down to you, his eyes dark with lust as he whispers, “perhaps I could show you some of mine as well, darling?”

Wrecker

Back on Coruscant, Wrecker's confidence was on full display in one of the training rooms, especially when around the Regs. His raw strength turned heads effortlessly. While his captivating personality was what made you fall for him, his powerful physique and his ability to lift ships as if they were mere trinkets only deepened your admiration.

After your own training session, you turned to find Wrecker in the midst of deadlifting an impressive 450kg, surrounded by a group of about 30 Clones. The way his muscles strained against his clothing ignited a sense of heat within you; you couldn't help but be captivated.

As he settled down, taking a swig from his canteen, you approached, your own workout completed, and boldly took a seat in his lap. The unexpected move caught him off guard, but a grin spread across his face as he recognized you. "Hey gorgeous girl, what ya up to?"

A mischievous smirk played on your lips. "Oh, I couldn't resist admiring your workout and felt the urge to come give you a kiss," you replied, leaning in to plant a lingering kiss on his lips. Your satisfaction grew as he emitted a soft moan.

"Babe, the regs are watching," he eventually pointed out, prompting you to open your eyes and glance toward the clones who were suddenly trying to appear nonchalant after having undoubtedly been ogling the scene of your public display of affection.

You shrugged, a devil-may-care attitude in your demeanor, your smirk growing wider. Leaning closer to him, you brushed your fingers along his cheek, your lips tantalisingly close to his ear as you whispered, “I dare you to carry me to the storage unit and fuck me. Hard.”

He laughs but as he sees the lust in your eyes, he knew that you were not just teasing him. “Really?”

“Really.”

Let’s just say the regs were swift to file out the gym when things got a little heated.

Tech

Sitting across the bar from Tech in the, surprisingly, lively atmosphere of Cid's parlour, you couldn't help stealing glances in his direction. His head was buried in his datapad, a not so unusual sight. Amusement welled up within you as you observed his growing agitation, patrons brushing against him, drinks spilling over the bartop and likely onto his clothes and boots. Feeling a desire to relieve his discomfort, you decided to take action.

With a subtle smirk, you retrieved your own datapad and sent him a message that read, 'why don't you come over here?' Watching closely, you noticed him squint as he read the message before his gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. A smile emits immediately on his lips, and without delay, he abandoned his stool and made his way toward you.

"Your message came just in time. I was starting to fear that another drink might find its way onto me and I may not have the patience to hold back," he admitted with a sigh, a quick glance revealing various splatters and stains on his clothes.

Raising your drink to your lips, a surge of boldness surged through you. "How about I help you get out of those clothes?" you proposed, your voice carrying a hint of suggestion.

He briefly shifted his gaze to his device, processing your words before his attention returned to you, focusing on your eyes that shined over the brim of your cup. He seemed to think before speaking, "I must admit, I'm not entirely sure if I'm interpreting this situation correctly. Are you genuinely offering help, or..." His words trailed off as a small group of people moved behind you both, resuming once they had passed. "Or are you implying something else?"

His innocence was endearing and as you take a swig of your drink, eliciting more liquid courage, you turn to him fully and lean forward until your lips brushed against his ear. You feel him shudder under your gentle touch. “I help you out of your clothes, you help me out of mine. And then you can do whatever you want to me.”

He inhaled a sharp breath. “Anything meaning…?”

You giggle, not being able to help yourself as you gently nibble on his earlobe, eliciting a gasp from him and his hand to instantly land on your thigh. “Yes. Anything.”

In a split second, Tech stands and you feared you may have took things too far but then he takes a hold of your hand before leading you out of the parlour and straight to the Marauder…

Crosshair

As you feel an object hitting the back of your head, you pivot to find a toothpick landing at your feet. Your expression tightens into a frown as you scan the surroundings, only to spot Crosshair lounging against the doorway, smoothly placing another toothpick between his teeth. Cockily.

"Real comedian," you quip with a sarcastic tone. However, as you begin to turn away, another toothpick whizzes towards you. A sigh escapes your lips as a small skirmish unfolds, involving toothpick projectiles flying between you and Crosshair.

The confines of the Marauder had kept all of you cooped up for too long, and the signs of boredom were evident. Little did you anticipate that it would be Crosshair who initiated a kind of entertainment, seemingly innocent yet playful, involving the tossing of items back and forth—much to Echo's apparent dismay who told you both to clean up after yourselves.

Later, as you find yourself in the cockpit, steering through hyperspace towards your next destination, Crosshair's foot brushes against yours from the chair opposite you. An involuntary response makes you kick back, and a realisation washes over you: this isn't just playful banter anymore, but a glimmer of flirtation. With a hint of a smile, you and Crosshair have unknowingly transitioned into a game of footsie. But boredom takes over again.

Sitting next to him, the two of you listening in on the bickering between Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, and Tech, you lightly tap your head against the wall repeatedly. His attention eventually turns to you, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. "Bored, pretty girl?" he remarks, causing a delightful flutter in your chest, even though you try to downplay it.

"Yeah, I'm bored," you reply with a sigh, your fingers idly strumming against your thighs.

He starts a sentence but then pauses, seemingly reconsidering his words. You give his shoulder a gentle nudge, encouraging him to continue after a brief silence. He inhales, then turns to face you, his closeness apparent, seemingly unbothered by his brothers' presence who don’t seem to notice you both. "So, how do you think we could change that?" he inquires, his tone laced with flirtation and desire.

Exhaling deeply, feeling your cheeks warm up, you decide to meet his tone. Leaning in toward his ear, your warm breath caresses his skin as you reply, “How about we go to the refresher and you fuck my ‘pretty’ face?”

Your bold and straight to the point answer makes his eyes briefly widen and his fists clench. You watched your eyes intensely, seeing if there was any sign of reluctance but there wasn’t.

He keeps his closeness and speaks, voice raspy and filthy. “Meet me in there in two minutes. You may as well speak to the others before you come in because you won’t be able to move your jaw after I’m done with you.”

Masterlist

If you feel like buying me a coffee 🤗

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @photogirl894 @fantasyproductions @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @captxin-rex x @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka a @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @erellenora @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad

#the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #nahoney22 writes #tbb x you #tech bad batch #wrecker bad batch #Hunter bad batch #echo bad batch #crosshair bad batch #the bad batch

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cosmos-coma · 1 year

Text

Sick Days- Geralt

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Words: ~1.1k

Summary: You refuse to tell Geralt that you're sick and so he has to find out the hard way

__________________________________

“How are you doing back there, Y/n?” Geralt called back to you, he and Roach taking the lead on this narrow path.

The partly cloudy afternoon was more than welcome to you compared to the rain you had pushed through all day yesterday. And the day before. Ugh.

Honestly, you liked rain as a whole, but the added chill in the air and the absolute soaking of your jacket left you feeling tired, feverish, and sniffly. You dared not let Geralt know that you were growing sick, the deadline to get to Novigrad was drawing closer and you refused to be the cause for missing it.

“Yep, yeah, I’m okay back here…” you lied. Your vision had begun spinning and your vision started lagging behind your eyes about 10 minutes ago. Your light tunic clung to your skin as your fever made you sweat relentlessly. Your various layers were laying across your horse in an unceremonious heap where you had left them and- wait, did you lose a jacket along the way? Hmm, you couldn't remember.

You let out a soft hum as a faint breeze cooled your skin and gave you a moment of relief from the sweltering heat.

“Y/n?” Geralt called out to you, “did you hear what I said?”

“Hm? Oh, no… what were you saying?” Your eyes closed as you tried to listen, your ears only picking up garbled noises. You could feel your body begin to get to tired to hold itself together, but you had to fight through it.

“Hmm, That’s interesting… “ you replied- well you're pretty sure that’s what you said. You… couldn’t be sure right now. Your consciousness filled with nothing more than a dense fog you couldn't seem to fan away.

“Yes very interesting…” you slurred out as your mind finally forced your body to shut down and everything went dark.

“Y/n, you’re not making any sense- shit..!” Geralt turned just in time to see you fall off your horse with a great big THUD. A pathetic groan was the last sound your barely conscious body sent out as Geralt yelled again and ran to your limp body.

“Y/n?” he shook you, “Fuck… and you’re burning up,” he commented and swiftly picked you up, your skin blazing and burning against his. “Let’s get you to an Inn, we’re done traveling for today…”

You woke up on clean linens, your body stripped down to its underclothes and covered in damp washcloths to keep you cool. “Hmm, Geralt...?” you grunted out as you sat up, rolled up cloth falling from your forehead, “Oh- nope, no, no, no... too dizzy…” you sighed and promptly laid down again.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty…” Geralt jested and sat on the edge of the bed- his expression slowly changing to something more sincere, his voice quieting as he urged you to take in the seriousness of his words. “You scared me back there… why didn’t you tell me that you were sick..? That you had a fever..?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find an adequate explanation, but it never came.

“You could have died if you’d fallen over a cliff's edge…if your head had hit rocks…” Geralt couldn’t even meet your eyes as he talked- instead opting to replace the damp cloths on your forehead. “You’re not as hearty as a Witcher is- you know that.”

You frowned, feeling more and more like a scolded child as he spoke to you. You shook your head and glanced outside instead of anywhere near this conversation.

“Y/n...” Geralt sighed, knowing exactly what you were doing, “Dear heart..?” he tried once more, finally catching your gaze.

“I don’t mean to make your softness such a flaw- you know it's exactly what pulled me into you in the first place..” A small smile crept over his features as he briefly remembered your first meeting. “But you need to let me know when to slow down, okay? Remind me now and then to be a little softer too,” he spoke so quietly that you were sure nothing else in the world could have heard him but you.

Your own expression reflected his smile and his whispered words fluttered around your heart “I will… I promise.” your fingers reached out for his, searching around until they captured his touch. “Oh, how long have I been out? We need to keep going” you urged, using your aching arm to bring his hand up to your lips in a soft kiss before you struggled to pull yourself upright.

But Geralt only laughed and shook his head as he helped you sit up, “now I see where Ciri gets her endless determination from- neither of you wants to stop for a minute to take care of yourselves.”

“We learned it from YOU, Geralt…” you grinned, sniffling as your nose threatened to run.

Eyes rolling, his smile became even wider. “Anyways… I mean to say that you shouldn’t worry about it… we’ve been making good time, we can spare a day to let you rest and recover.”

You nodded and relaxed a bit more, rolling your shoulder and cracking your back as you tried to get comfortable. “Good… Good, I really can’t fall off like that again. I feel like I just slammed shoulder-first into a shaelmaar…”

“I bet,” Your witcher snorted, a knowing smile hiding behind your hand as he brought it up to kiss in return. “Do you think some desert would make that shoulder feel any better?”

“Hmmmmmm, I think it’s a good start… that might help being sick but maybe you can rub my shoulder later..?” you grinned, knowing you were pushing it, but that hadn’t failed you yet.

A genuine laugh pulled itself from Geralt as he stood, audible and even forming a faint crease around his eyes. For a witcher, it might as well have been a full belly laugh the way their stoic expressions dampen everything.

You beamed and watched your handsome witcher as he headed off to get you dessert. You wouldn’t be surprised if his heart was as golden and lovely as his eyes were. “Hey, Geralt? I love you…”

“I love you too, Dear heart… no matter how soft you make me.” He said with a smile as he came back to your side and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

______________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff

#geralt knows how to please you lol #Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #The witcher 3 #tw3 geralt #hurt/comfort #geralt fluff #Geralt hurt/comfort

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

🎱 I wish I could’ve been sweet, but you made me do this… 🎱

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: A game of pool quickly became something else, and now you have to deal with the consequences.

✎ CW: Bondage/restraint, biting, blood, a little touch of consensual non-consent, another touch of predator/prey, fingering, unprotected sex, (rough) nipple play

✎ Word count: 2,126

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

“I told you…” he begins.

The room is silent again, except for soft thumps of dress shoes on hardwood, plastic ceiling fan blades slicing air, and deep, unsteady exhales.

“I told you what would happen if you talked back to me, didn’t I?” Chan asks.

His big hands are tucked away in his pockets as he circles the pool table. He walks slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes on the floor. He hasn’t looked at you in minutes.

“But you… and that mouth,” he says, stopping at the end of the table to roughly plant his hands on the wood. “That fucking mouth of yours…”

Murky eyes stare directly into yours now. But they’re not his usual syrupy brown, no, they’re almost completely black. And the way his upper lip twitches is different, too. He’s angry, and he’s hungry for something dark.

He places a knee on the table and hoists his body up, moving his hands forward onto the felt. Then he’s on all fours, slowly crawling toward you, bound and gagged at the center of it all.

Pool balls surround you, and he’s careful not to let them get in his way. When he finally reaches you, he leans in close, letting his hot breath coat your cheek.

“The rules were very simple,” he hisses. “Be good, and you’d get rewarded.”

He lowers his big, pink lips to your neck and kisses gently.

“But, be a bad girl…” he hums into your skin. “And you’d be punished. Isn’t that right?”

Your “yes” is muffled by the ball gag, but it’s clear enough.

“So… what punishment do you deserve for talking back to me? For not showing me one of your pretty tits when I asked you to… when I told you to?”

His big fingers lightly wrap around your neck before traveling down, down to your chest, where he fiddles with the cup of your bra.

“Well, I think I definitely get to see them now. Maybe even pinch, maybe even bite a little… don’t you think?”

The moan that travels up your throat is born from a mix of excitement and fear.

He reaches behind you to undo the clasp, then uses the available slack to lift the bra up and over your head so the cups rest on your back. Your arms are tied from the elbow down, so there’s no hope to remove the garment completely.

“Ahhhh,” he breathes, marveling at the newly exposed flesh in front of him before gripping one nipple between finger and thumb. “So perky, so hard…”

He twists the raised nub with the pads of his fingers slowly, keeping his lips on your neck and sucking gently at first. But then they pull back and teeth pinch the thin skin, drawing a soft grunt from behind your lips.

“What was that, princess?” he asks. “Want me to bite you more?”

Your tiny yelp could signal yes or no, but you aren’t entirely sure which. And he doesn’t seem to care one way or the other.

“Bite your tits? Oh, I can definitely do that.”

And before you can even make a sound, his teeth close on the skin above your nipple, biting hard enough to leave a mark. Then he shifts to the left and does it again, but even harder this time.

He pinches and pulls at the nipple still between his fingers as his mouth finds the other, first circling it with his tongue before baring his teeth once more and biting down roughly.

Another groan is stifled by the gag, and you can do nothing to help or hurt the situation except pull at the shirt wrapped around your arms.

“Mmmm,” he moans around your breast. “You taste so good. Let’s see if I can make you bleed.”

He bites again, then again, then again, before you hear a tiny crunch and feel a sharp sting.

“There we go…”

Just a few drops of blood seem to satiate him because he sits back and releases his hold on you completely.

“Oh, my love,” he says and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before rubbing his thumb back and forth on your cheek. “I wish I could’ve been sweet. But you made me do this…”

He rotates you so he can untie your arms, but you’re not completely free from your restraints just yet.

“Arms up.”

You lift your arms over your head, and he wraps the shirt around your forearms once again. There’s barely time to take another breath before his hand drops to grip your neck tightly, and he forces you onto your back. Billiard balls don’t allow you to lie flat, but that doesn’t stop him from pressing you into the table.

“Comfortable?” he sneers, but he knows you’re not. He knows your face, and the lowered brows, wrinkled nose, and tightly closed eyes are more than enough for him to interpret.

“Here… let me help.”

He reaches beneath your back and grabs a ball, the black 8, and holds it above your face.

“Hmmm, but what do we do with this now?” he asks himself. “We have to put it down somewhere, don’t we?”

The cold ball touches your chest right as his voice cuts off. Guided by his firm hand, it rolls over your ribs and up the mounds and back down again, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

He hums and sighs as he directs that ball around and down, past your stomach and your hips to your thighs, before coming back up again and following the same path down. Like a pendulum swinging back and forth but shortening its distance on each trip. Just biding time until it finally settles at its equilibrium.

“I wonder if I could fit this inside you,” he wonders aloud, his eyes filled with curiosity and mischief staring at your bare skin.

Chan places the ball safely on your stomach before spreading your legs and inserting a finger, then two, then three.

“Hmmm, already so wet, so ready. If only I could bury my cock in you instead…”

He adds a fourth finger and spreads them, seeing just how far you’ll stretch for him. The wicked grin that spreads across his lips just then must mean something good.

“Oh, we could definitely get this in you,” he muses. “Tuck this right up inside your tight pussy. Would you like that?”

You only stare blankly in response, unsure if you would or not. Probably… but…

“But that wouldn’t be much fun once it’s in,” he decides. “We need something to…”

He roughly pumps all four fingers in and out in time with his words.

“Make. You. Whine.”

Just then, something behind you seems to catch his attention, and his eyes start to glow in the light. He hops off the table and quickly returns to your side, pool stick in hand.

Your eyes widen once you realize what it’s for, and every single muscle tenses in fear. You mumble incoherently, forgetting the safe word in the heat of the moment. But it’s enough, because Chan’s excited expression immediately turns to pure panic.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, holding your cheek in one hand and undoing the gag with the other. “I would never hurt you, you know that, right?”

The gag falls to the table and is quickly replaced by his mouth. He wets your chapped lips with his tongue and kisses gently before pulling back.

“I love you. We don’t have to do that, okay?” he whispers. “Do you still want to…?”

You nod slightly, and he smiles and kisses your nose. Chan drops the cue stick on the ground and sweetly kisses your hair before unbuttoning his slacks and dropping them and his boxers to the floor.

He climbs back onto the table and settles on his knees. His hands work at untying the knot around your arms, then he places his hands on either side of your head.

“Maybe you’ve endured enough, yeah?” he says, stroking your hair. “Maybe it’s time for me to just… adore you.”

He lifts your back and scatters the balls so you can rest comfortably. Then his fingers gently run along your side — soft enough to tease, but hard enough to avoid making you ticklish.

It’s been so long since you felt his loving touch, and you can’t help but moan softly. He takes those sighs as cues for where to apply more pressure as he goes, though he knows exactly where to head.

Two fingers enter you gently, and he exhales between lips spread into a pleased grin.

“Oh, my girl…” he whispers. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

His crooked fingers leave as fast as they came and grip your ass instead, lifting your hips off the table. The balls of your feet instinctually find the felt and prop up your lower body while he positions himself between your thighs.

“Ready?” he asks, his leaking cock less than an inch away from where you need it the most.

You nod and look down to watch as he slides in. His eyes squeeze shut as more and more of him disappears inside you.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, oh my…”

His grip on your hips tightens as his pace increases, faster and faster, until he’s pounding in and out of you so quickly you can barely catch your breath between strokes.

He angles your hips up just a little more to hit that perfect spot with every thrust, and you can’t help it. Your thighs start to quiver, making your whole body unsteady. Chan may be strong, but even he’s struggling to maintain a decent pace and keep you still.

“I’m… gonna… flip you… ok?” he exhales between strokes.

And then he does — with unexpected ease. He rotates your hips and holds you upright until you can support yourself on your hands and knees, then he sinks into you again.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is even louder from this angle, loud enough to drown out both of your moans. And though you can’t hear him, you know he is.

You can feel his groans and sighs as they vibrate from his throat, through his chest, down his arms. Like the energy transfers from his fingertips to your hips, igniting fire in your veins.

“Chan… nie…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Gonna…”

“You close?” he breathes, barely getting the words out. “Hold on.”

He pulls out and flips you onto your back again.

“I wanna… see you,” he explains between shaky inhales. “You’re so… beautiful.”

You feel his fingertips on your glistening cheek, and his honey eyes hold your gaze as he fills you up again.

Chan presses his pillowy lips into yours and moans into your mouth. And, god, his sounds are so delicious.

He plants his elbows on the table on either side of your head and laces his fingers together above you. He’s not tossing you around anymore. And he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, not with your arms encircling his neck and your legs tightly wrapped around his hips. This is it.

A few thrusts later, you’re there. And he’s close. He can feel you clench around him, and that tightness, that pressure. A few more pumps into that wet heat has him unraveling, too, and he breaks the kiss to try to form a cohesive thought.

“Fuck. You’re, you’re. F-fuck. You’re so… perfect.”

He empties himself deep inside you as he speaks, but it’s not enough. You need his lips, his mouth, to possess him completely.

You raise your neck to connect lips once again, and he returns the favor with passion. His kiss is so intense, so deep, like he’s trying to claim you and keep you right back.

“I’m yours,” you pant into his lips.

“I know,” he exhales, returning the air to your lungs. “And I’m yours.”

Mouths reattach as you ride out your highs, and the give and take continues well past the aftershocks. You just can’t get enough of his mouth; you could do this forever.

Minutes pass, and you can feel him shrink between your legs. Of course, neither of you could give a fuck. Wrapped in each other’s limbs like this is everything — absolutely everything.

Chan finally pulls back to breathe after who knows how long, and his swollen lips immediately pull into a warm smile.

“I love you,” he whispers once, then again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His smile, his love is so infectious, you’d return it even if you weren’t already drowning in raw affection for him.

“I love you,” you whisper back. “Thank you.”

Somehow, his smile widens even more, and you swear you see a thousand sunrises, a million stars, a billion fireworks exploding in his eyes all at once.

“Anything for you,” he hums as he lightly strokes your cheek. “Everything for you.”

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jhugas · 1 year

Text

‘I OWE HER MY LIFE’- Jeon Jungkook

Masterlist

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: comforting, idol!Jungkook X sad, 8th member!F!Reader

Summary: You love Bts and Army, but you don’t think you’re made for this lifestyle. So you’ve been considering leaving the group. But how will Jungkook, the one that loves you the most, react?

Warnings/tags: mention of sasaengs, and death threats (only mentions, no details), reader feels depressed, Jungkook is extremely attached, Jungkook comforts you, sad Jungkook, crying, hugs and a lovely Jungkook.

Word count: ~1,2k

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

It’s been a long time you’ve been in BTS, the biggest band in the world… maybe around 5 years? You’ve had tours, fan meetings, collaborations, invitations… but also had death threats, sasaengs, people ringing at your door, and harassing you in the streets.

You’re a strong woman. Very strong. But you had limits, and limits got crossed over. This wasn’t the life you wanted; you just wanted some money to help your family. But now, you have the money without your family. You had to leave them from a young age, and with so much work and pressure, your relations with them got damaged. You believe that they won’t come back no matter what. But then, what was all of that for? Working so hard day and night since you’re 13, for nothing but money and fame.

Realizing how much better your life would’ve been without fame… tears form in your eyes. You love Bts, and you love Army, but maybe you weren’t made for this.

‘They‘ll understand. They love me too’

you reassured yourself, scared of expressing the decision you’re considering more and more; leaving Bts. Leaving the cameras, fame, and infinite money for an easier life. You try to imagine how Bts will react…

Namjoon, the one that you grew up with, that made you who you are today, comforted you every needed time and that considered you as his own sister.

Jin, that considered you as his very own daughter, bringing you to school and cooking for you.

Yoongi and Hoseok, bringing you to your bed when you fell asleep on the couch and went to the school reunions for parents.

Taehyung and Jimin being your closest friends you ever had, your big brothers, teasing you and bickering each other all the time. But always being there for each other.

And Jungkook that… loved you deeply. Very deeply. More than anyone else.

He always gave you lovely gifts, like portraits, drawings and paintings of you, and even tried sculpting you. Once, he gave you an album full of pictures he took himself of you, to prove you you were beautiful at your most insecure time. He gave you letters all the time, and was the type to write “Jungkook, you’re not so secret admirer :) ” as a signature. And always gave you the best Netflix and chill nights. Buying popcorns, letting you chose the movie, buying channels just for you, making his bedroom cozy with cute lights and more.

You were hung up on his walls. Said you were his love, passion and happiness as a person. And said he’d be your guardian angel the day he leaves.

“I’m not scared of dying because I know we’ll never really be too far from each other. In our next life, we’ll meet again, and love each other like we always did.” he said…

Tears roll down your cheek. How are you going to tell him? Will he get mad? Sad? Tons of questions go through your head as you blow your nose and throw the tissue. Will he hate you? Understand you? Does he feel the same thing? You blow your nose once again and throw the tissue. Suddenly, the door opens.

‘Y/n!! Why are you crying?!’

Jungkook comes in running and gets in front of you making sure to close the door behind him. He looks at you with worried eyes as you wipe away your tears, acting like nothing happened.

‘Y/n Im not joking! Please baby, tell me what’s wrong. You can talk to me you know it.’

He whispers the last part, taking care to not frighten you and to make you feel safe, protected. As you look at him in the eyes, you sitting on the edge of the bed and him crouching down to talk to you, he cups your face in his big hands, gets closer and kisses your forehead.

‘Jungkook… I… I’m not sure what to feel about being in Bts anymore… I’m scared, and lost… It’s not like I really want to leave but it feels like it’s the only way out…’

You look down, scared of how he’ll react. He’ll think you’re a traitor, you think…

There’s a silence. A long one. You wouldn’t be able to tell how long it was nor if it was uncomfortable or not. But it felt like hours. You hear him taking a deep breath in before saying in a weak voice:

‘Y/n… you can’t be real. You’re not thinking about leaving Bts right? You’re joking?’

He asks, sounding like he was about to cry. You slowly nod, making him understand that yes, you were indeed, considering it.

‘What’s wrong? What made you think about this? Y/n Im ready to do anything for you. Anything! Tell me what do you need I’ll do it! I’ll give it to you!’

He sounds desperate. You finally look back at him, tears still rolling down your cheeks but he gently wipes them away with his thumb. He gets on the bed and hugs you tight. His chest moving irregularly, strongly. And his arms holding you extremely close to him.

‘Im just… I’m tired! I’m tired of everything. I’ve tried having breaks, I really did! But nothing have worked…I’m exhausted Jungkook…I really am… and I’m sorry…’

You say. Your nose gets even redder. You almost can’t see due to the amount of tears your shining eyes are holding.

‘Put the blame on me. Put all of your worries in me. Give me all of your stress, fears, pressure. I’ll take it. I gladly will.’

He gets back.

‘Give me all of your pain. I know you’re suffering so put it all on me. Please.’

He yells in a whisper. He doesn’t want to scare you and he meant everything he said. He’s ready to do anything for you, even if it meant dying, or getting tortured till the end of his days.

You saved him and always comforted him when he wasn’t feeling good. So that’s what he told himself: ‘I owe her my life’. From the moment he realized how important you are to him, he knew he’d dedicate his whole life to you. There wasn’t any point in doing anything without you. And in fact, you were his whole life. He always did the most for you. He hugs you again…

‘It’ll be all right… I’m here… I’m right here.’

He whispers onto your neck, slightly laying a few kisses on it. You hold tight onto his hair and let your body rest in his strong arms. Tired from crying so much, you fell asleep. He laid you down on the bed, changed your clothes for pajamas, and stayed beside you. He spent the whole night cuddling you and whispering good things in your ear such as ‘you’re strong’, ‘you can do it’, or ‘I’m right here’.

He let you sleep as much as you needed and instead of not leaving until you wake up, he decided to make your favorite breakfast then decorated and cleaned the whole apartment.

He was right. It’ll be all right, he’s here…

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