#don’t call the police on me pls | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gukkie01 · 1 year

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Pair: Racer! Jungkook x Police officer! Fem reader

Rating/Genre: 18+, smut (little to no plot), humour (I tried but failed again 😐)

Words count: 5 649

Warning: explicit content, oral sex (F receiving), semi-public sex (I guess??), penetrative sex, vaginal sex, jungkook is a very very hot racer, fingering, car sex, sassy Y/n, dirty talking, unprotected sex (pls don’t be dumb like them)

Summary: Y/n was starting to get bored of being a police officer. She needed the thrill. Thank god, Jeon Jungkook was there to help her.

Note: very much liked writing this one. It was inspired by a book I read on wattpad (that I forgot the name of :/) but I switched the roles and decided Y/n was going to be the police officer 👍. Hope you guys enjoy this one! Sorry for any typos :(

💞 quick little reminder that comments and likes are appreciated 🥹. Enjoy! 💞

Can’t Catch Me

Being a police officer was not your dream anymore. For the solemn reasons that it was boring as hell. Nothing like in the movies. There weren’t any arresting criminals and interfering in mafia cartels and saving the day.

No. It was sorting documents and sometimes, if you were lucky enough, arresting cars. But where was the thrill in that? The excitement?

Sitting down behind a desk clearly wasn’t saving anyone or helping in that case. It was just making phone calls, watching some people here and then to make sure they didn’t leave. You never had to interrogate anyone. You didn’t even have your opportunity at playing the mean cop!

Because there was no doubt that you would’ve been the mean cop. You let no one step over you or cross any boundaries.

So yeah, being a cop or police officer if you would, was not thrilling at all. It was a shitty job that paid just enough so you could survive the month. Just enough. In the end, you always had to ask yourself if it was even worth it. And most of the time, your answer ended up being no, not at all.

Your superior was not even—

Speaking of, you suddenly received a phone call from him. Picking up, you cleared your throat, trying to sound as professional and calm and cool as possible. “Y/n,” he said and shifted a little. “I need you in my office. Now.” He ended the call, not giving the slightest bit of details.

But you were used to that. Didn’t make it less annoying though.

With an exasperated sigh that earned a few amused glares from your coworkers, you got up and made your way to your boss’s office down a little hall. Three knocks and a barely audible ‘come in’ later, you were sitting down in front of him, Mr. Kang or Monkey Face as you liked to call him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow and shifting to the edge of your chair. Were you in trouble? You couldn’t see how that was possible. How could sitting all day bring you in trouble?

Monkey Face, without once letting his eyes divert from his laptop, clicked his tongue. “I’m assigning you to a new route,” was all he said, typing away on his laptop and munching on his gum a little too loudly for your taste.

“What? Where?” The idea of finally leaving this hell of a place brought interest into your features as you wiggled more on the edge of your chair. It was embarrassing really. It wasn’t like you were arresting criminals but at least, you were going to be outside, arresting cars.

Give or take. And you decided to take.

“Route 30. You can go now.”

So, apparently, route 30 ended up being more of a stretch of highway rather than an actual route. By the time the moon set, you saw two cars, and they were exasperatedly slow. But there was no one else behind so you let it pass.

You were sitting inside your car, radio playing but you paid it no mind. It was just nice having some background noises that stopped you from falling asleep although let’s just say it wasn’t doing its job right.

When you glanced outside, the sky was pitch black; no stars, no moon. It was like someone purposely painted it black. It made the outside much darker and duller.

You sighed and decided to exit your car. Take some fresh air. You stood outside, kicking rocks with your boots and after some time, you even started playing soccer against yourself.

But you quickly got bored once again.

It turned out that being assigned to patrol a road was worse than you thought. Sitting in your car, switching the radio multiple times until you’d get so frustrated you would just shut it.

At one point, you got so bored you were on the verge of tears. Which was pathetic but true.

You started singing off-tune to a song that you vaguely remembered, singing as loud as you could before that too would become boring.

And that was when the universe heard your wishes.

Your ears perked up at the ramble of an engine, far in the distance but no doubt getting nearer pretty fast. Too fast. With your heart thumping almost loudly, you buckled your seatbelt and waited until the roaring got closer and closer and you finally saw it.

It flew past you so quickly it was like it was never there in the first place. You flicked on your lights as well as your sirens and started the car, following as closely as you could.

It was hard. Whatever car it was surely surpassed your own speed. And if it didn’t slow down any time soon, you’d lose sight of them eventually.

They made a turn to the left so quickly that you almost couldn’t follow. Your car had been on the verge of driving off the road. You weren’t really on the highway anymore but more on a small route hidden by immense trees.

You were breathless and nervous but driving that fast was the biggest thrill of your entire life and it was so liberating.

Finally, the car decelerated soon after, swerving into the side and parking swiftly. With how fast it had initially been going, you were impressed with how smooth it parked. Whoever it was behind the steering wheel, they were clearly experienced.

Slowly, all the while trying not to make a fool of yourself, you pulled up behind the bright neon blue car. You stepped out and approached the vehicul, taking in deep breaths. Be cool, be cool.

You knocked on the window three times before it slid down and goddamn it—

Your heart literally stopped beating for a fraction of a second when your gaze met a pair of doe eyes. Your own trailed lower until it stopped at a particular shiny object on the driver’s face. A lip piercing.

For a moment, you completely forgot what you were here for, too dazed by the same piercing being bitten and played with. You shook your head, regaining your composure. Or more like tried to.

Question number one.

“Do you know how fast you were driving?” You asked, trying to muster the scariest voice you could. His pierced eyebrow raised up and he smiled innocently. He had this little bunny smile that made you giddy despite trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry officer, I wasn’t paying attention.” He was amused. It was clear in the way his eyes twinkled and the mocking tone of his so fucking deep voice. You gulped a lump in your throat, trying with all your might not to look at any of his piercings and maintain your professionalism.

Question number two.

“License and registration?” You managed to ask without stuttering and the driver reached into the glove box compartment and handed you his papers.

You glanced down at them, letting your eyes trail along the information.

Jeon Jungkook. Born September 1st, 1997. He was a year older than you. His hair in the picture of his license was shorter and lighter. More like a soft brown whereas now, it was almost black. You didn’t know why you were even paying attention to that. You didn’t deign a look at his registration papers and gave them back to him.

He arched an eyebrow, clearly finding the whole situation amusing and to his advantage. He must have known just how much he had an effect on you right now.

Your inner thoughts consisted of:

I’m gonna get fired

But he’s so hot, I don’t care

I wish he could take me right here, right now

I am so getting fired.

Jungkook’s smooth husky voice quickly pulled you out of your thoughts. It was kind of funny how your heart dropped at how deep and soft his voice sounded. There was this little witty and sarcastic tone behind it.

“Aren’t you supposed to use these?” He asked, wiggling his license and registration in his hands. It was then that your eyes caught the tattoos hiding every inch of his skin. It was covering a big part of his hands and went up under his sleeve and you found yourself wanting to see more. You needed to see his entire full sleeve tattoo.

You cleared your throat, the air around you thickening by the seconds. You wondered if you were the only one feeling it. The tension. The want. The desire. Maybe it was only your brain playing tricks on you. Telling you that Jungkook’s eyes definitely trailed down your body, mentally undressing you.

Yeah, your mind was clearly playing tricks. Maybe it was his little grin tugging at the corner of his lips or his sweet cologne that made your brain alter like that. Surely, he had done something to you.

After a couple of seconds, you realized you still hadn’t answered him. You straightened up, flattening your hand on the top of his car, glancing down at him with what you hoped was your most serious glare. “I’ll let you off with a warning, Jungkook.” It was a little strange saying his name out loud, but you quickly found out that you liked it. A lot.

“But I better not see you here again or it’s a ticket,” you continued and saw his smile widening.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ok, your mind was definitely going a little crazy. You had just seen Jungkook sending a little wink your way. You probably imagined it. Yeah, it was all your brain.

He gave a little nod and started his engine once again. It roared loud and hoarsely and you had to admit that it was nice to the ears. You took a step back and watched as Jungkook drove away, ignoring your words from mere moments ago and going fast.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You had told Jungkook to never come back here but deep inside, you wished to see him again.

A week later, the job didn’t get better. If possible, it probably got worse. You hadn’t arrested one single car yet and all you did was sleep in your car. You knew that if your boss found out, he’d surely fire you and it would be over. He was paying you to work, not sleep. That would be his words.

You sighed for the millionth time this afternoon, whistling along the song playing on the radio. The sun wasn’t bright today. Your mood was down.

The radio was on as per usual and you could hear some of your coworkers communicating with each other, wishing you could do the same. You had nothing to say, nothing to warn. Today was pretty boring.

But then again, someone seemed to have heard you and a loud roar could be heard at the far end of the highway. Your heart thumped loudly and you felt your chest vibrate. Finally. You felt a smile curve up your lips as you turned your car on just as a vehicle flashed before your eyes.

You quickly drove away from behind the small bushes you were once parked at and started your pursuit. But it was quickly over. The car parked on the side road after a short while and you did the same a couple of meters behind. You stood outside your car, looking around quickly before jogging and knocking against the tinted window.

“Do you know how— Jesus! You?”

Fucking hell. Of course it was him. Jeon Jungkook. You should have known by the unique rambling of his motor and at the speed he went earlier. You should have known since the start. This job was seriously making you lose some brain cells.

Jungkook grinned. It was a little devilish and teasing and smug. He leaned on the inside of his door, looking up at you. Fuck. He had dimples.

“Hi to you too, officer…” his eyes trailed down to your badge, “Y/n.” The way your name rolled off his tongue so well made you shiver. His voice had gone an octave lower. It had that little rasp to it that almost made you drool. You secretly wished you could hear it right to your ears.

Just the thought of it gave you goosebumps.

“Jungkook, it’s the second time I catch you exceeding the speed limit. I have no other choice but to give you a ticket this time.”

You didn’t really want to. If you could, you’d let him off with another warning that would actually never get anywhere. He was too pretty to have a ticket. Too fucking perfect.

Jungkook’s wicked grin didn’t falter once even after your words. If it made sense, it seemed to only get wider. Was he finding this entire situation funny? It made your blood slightly boil. You felt like you were getting laughed at. Humiliated maybe. But there was also this little feeling, this tightness at the pit of your stomach when Jungkook got closer.

His cologne hit your strong and gosh, you wanted to breathe it forever. Bath in it. It smelled so good on him.

“Is there a way I could pay? I don’t have money right now.” His tone was suggestive and it took you a while before you got the proper meaning behind his words. And to say that you were shook was an understatement. You choked on nothing, face flushed and so warm, it was embarrassing.

Jungkook didn’t miss the way you suddenly avoided even looking at him, focusing on his steering wheel instead. You heard a low chuckle that shouldn’t have sounded this good. It shouldn’t have made your knees slightly fold.

Jungkook was an attractive man. You couldn’t deny it and it was pretty hard to miss. It was also hard not to stare at his piercings, at his pink lips that looked so soft or at the tattoos that were much more visible than last time. They peeked from his white top and reached the middle of his neck. They were simply magnificent. You wanted to let your fingers run along each of his tattoos.

But even with his fucking god-like appearance, you had to stop yourself from even thinking of further things about him. It was not professional to let your brain wander at these places.

So, in other words, you were a little too close to taking his offer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have a week to pay, so if you don’t have the money on you right now, it’s no worries.” You replied, mentally high-fiving yourself for keeping your cool.

Jungkook shifted closer, and the tip of his index grazed your arm. It was covered with your uniform but it still sent a wave of fire through your entire body. “But I would really like to pay now. I have something better than money.”

Shit.

Fuck.

No, no no.

He shouldn’t have said that. You were on the verge of saying ‘yes’. On the verge of letting him take you right here, in the middle of the highway. His words were very powerful and from the way his eyebrow arched, he knew it.

“Do you know what you’re implying right now, Jeon?”

Something in his eyes twinkled when you said his last name. He smirked. Literally smirked. “I know that very well, officer. So, what do you say?”

Oh my god.

You couldn’t say yes, even with how much your heart—or more like your cunt— begged for you to accept his offer. But that would only bring you trouble. You didn’t need that.

“I say we’re going straight to the station, Jungkook. Come out.” His smug expression dropped for a moment, and you saw how disappointed he was. Maybe he thought that his sexiness and his pretty voice and pretty tattoos and piercings would have saved him, and it almost did. But you had to remember that you were the mean cop.

He sighed and opened his door, standing up in front of you.

You breath hitched when you realized how easily he was towering over you. He looked so intimidating from this angle, you almost dropped to your knees. It was then that you realized he was wearing a white top that was so tight you saw the entire shape of his pecs. He had a racer vest on top—blue with black lines and his name written on the back.

He looked at you for a second, toying with his lip piercing before eventually turning around and putting his hands behind his back.

“You know officer, it seemed like you were ready to take my offer. What made you change your mind?” So cocky. His ego was so big and normally it would piss you off, but with Jungkook, it was almost like a part of his charm.

“Stop talking,” you ordered in your most stern voice although it only made him chuckle. You unclipped the handcuffs from your uniform, ready to wrap them around his wrists.

“So bossy. I like it.” You swallowed on nothing over and over again, losing focus. The more he talked, the more you were overthinking. You wanted to push him in his car and let him fuck you.

“Jungkook, I said stop talking.”

“You like having control, hm? I bet you’d love to control me, even for just a few minutes…” And then, well, you kind of snapped.

You handcuffed his wrists together harshly, your fast movements making him take a sharp breath. You turned him around, slightly pinning him to his car door. “I told you to stop talking. You’re only bringing yourself further into trouble,” your voice was simply a mere whisper directed to his face. Jungkook bit his lips, bowing his upper body to reach your level.

“One thing you should know: I love trouble,” he said and his voice was suave and smooth and warm on the side of your face. His knee touched your crotch and he pushed it between your legs. You sucked in a long breath and let out a muffled moan.

Well shit. You were doomed. Because now, you couldn’t stop thinking about how his knee felt so good pressed against your pussy and how much his cock would be even better.

“Seems like you’re enjoying yourself,” he commented, looking down at your lower half grinding on his knees. He pushed it up more and added some pressure to your core. You were wet. Wetter than you’d been in a while and all because of a little asshole named Jungkook. He had his proud face on, enjoying the way your face darkened in a deep shade of pink and the way you obviously shook. He knew you wanted to go further.

“Remove those handcuffs, sweetie.” He said suddenly and his face was dark, serious and so dominant. You really couldn’t say no to that face.

So you nodded, taking out a key from your front pocket, fumbling with it clumsily until the handcuffs were off and Jungkook’s hands found their way on your waist.

He didn’t wrap his arms around you. He simply let you feel his hands for a while, getting used to the burning feeling they left even on top of your entire uniform. It tickled as if he touched you straight through your clothes, right on your skin. Thinking about it, you were dying for some skin to skin contact. To touch his tattoos while he was pleasing you.

Jungkook’s eyes were staring straight into yours. You knew right then that he had been thinking about that moment for a while now and to say that it turned you on was an understatement.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep eye contact without failing but it was hard. His stare was deep and intense and the way he continually licked his lips made it difficult to keep your eyes up there. They looked so soft.

You briefly wondered how they tasted before Jungkook’s voice interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Are you gonna stare at them longer before you finally kiss me?” You hated how his voice made your inside wiggle and giddy and your heartbeat accelerate.

You hesitated, on the tip of your toes. You were so nervous. And Jungkook seemed to catch in, as with a wide grin, he plunged down, lips crashing against your, and teeth colliding. His cold lip piercing touched the corner of your lips and made you gasp.

He snorted into the kiss, this time, wrapping his arms entirely around your waist and exchanging your positions. You were the one pinned on his car. And quite honestly, you liked this position way more.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the moment you knocked on my window.” His sudden confession stole the air out of you. Just like you, he had been waiting to touch you and feel you up.

Fucking butterflies. You hated how they swam in your stomach and made it difficult to keep up with the kissing without feeling like you would pass out. Jungkook was a good kisser. Scratch that, he was fucking amazing. He moved his lips with expertise against yours.

You guys weren’t really taking your time but you still enjoyed it very much. They way it was heated and impatient and filled with want made it all the more exciting.

You wanted him so bad.

“Let’s take this further in the car, hm?” He mumbled against your lips, struggling to open the car in the position you were both in, but after a while, you were swiftly thrown in the back seat.

Jungkook hovered over you like a scary predator ready to attack and eat its prey. And you were very glad to be his prey.

His right hand lifted up and stopped at your cheek, letting his thumb rub over the softness of your skin. He was in literal awe as he let his eyes trail around every feature of your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to ruin you.”

If it wasn’t hot enough, it became too much. You were sweating, desperate to get out of your clothes and let the AC of the car wrap around you. And even more desperate to get Jungkook to fuck you.

Jungkook’s rough hands explored every inch of your upper body until he got tired of your clothes. He sat you up and as fast as he could, succeeded in removing the top of your uniform. His eyes twinkled as if he was a kid that just received his favorite toy for his birthday.

You let him touch you everywhere, he squeezed and massaged your breast until you were whimpering. He pinched your nipples, earning multiple cries from you. He seemed to love every second of it, considering the smile—worth probably a million of dollars—plastered on his face.

He didn’t linger on your breasts too much, though. You could see in the way his fingers always found themselves at the waistband of your pants, that he was more excited about what was down there.

He looked up at you, stopping his hands that were ready to slip off the last item of clothing (except your panties) covering your body.

“Can I remove them?” He asked and it warmed your heart that he remembered to ask you before going any further. You gave him a shy nod and kept in your breath when the cold air hit your lower body, more specifically, your inner thighs.

Jungkook’s hands covered your skin almost immediately. His nails slightly scratched your skin as he ran his fingers up and down your entire legs. But his eyes were stuck on the wet patch on your panties.

“Aren’t you a little excited, huh? Soaked even when I barely even started.”

You moaned. It was a small moan that was more due to your embarrassment and your need for him to touch you, combined together.

It was music to Jungkook’s ears.

He let his finger push on your clothed core, breathing in loudly when he felt the dampness. And then he slipped his fingers in your panties without any second thoughts or any warning.

He settled on rubbing his middle finger on your clit, looking up every now and then at the way your face contorted in pleasure. You were moaning continuously, asking him for more but he wouldn’t give it.

Jungkook loved teasing you and even though you barely knew him at all, that information was pretty obvious from the way he enjoyed slipping in snarky little remarks from the first moment you saw him. He loved how your face became red instantly, how you avoided his eyes. He felt so confident around you.

You liked the tease. You liked feeling on edge every time his fingers almost entered your pussy but then he’d move them away.

“Be patient, babe. You’ll get what you want soon enough.”

Babe. You wanted to hear him say that again on repeat.

“Jungkook,” you mumbled with closed eyes, internally screaming when he avoided your hole again, “I need more. Please.”

He chuckled, stopping the motion of his fingers. “Look at you begging for me. I should have known you’d be an impatient little slut.”

You whined at his choice of words. Dirty talking never failed in turning you on, although it was clear that it depended from who.

And it seemed to fit Jungkook very well.

“Please,” you asked again, not even caring how pathetic you sounded.

“Aw, you’re asking so nicely.” He slipped one finger in and you involuntarily arched your back. “So good for me, so tight too.” Another finger. “Are you gonna come from just my fingers?” A third digit, this time, curling inside.

The stretch hurted a bit. But it was good. It felt so amazing. It only added onto the pleasure and after a while, it wasn’t even uncomfortable anymore.

Jungkook’s eyes were plastered on your pussy and the way you swallowed his fingers so well. You were so wet, it dripped down your inner thighs. He kept biting and licking his lips, moving his head down by the seconds.

And then you understood what he wanted to do so bad. He wanted to eat you out.

“Do it,” you told him, wiggling and pushing yourself closer to him, his fingers hitting a particular spot that had a little yelp come out of you.

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows, slowing down his fingers. You straightened up a little bit and took his wrist, pulling his three digits out of you. “I know what you wanna do. Eat me out. Please.”

He swallowed and nodded, pushing you further in the back seat and against the door. He properly positioned himself between your legs, tapping on your right thigh. “Open up,” he signaled, pulling them even more apart until you were wide open in front of him.

He licked his lips and plunged his head right in your crotch. Locks of his hair fell on your thighs, tickling you and making shivers run up your entire body. And then his tongue touched you. So warm. So soft. So pleasurable.

He licked the lips at first before slipping his tongue inside, grunting. He had mumbled something but with his face between your legs, the words came out muffled and unclear.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking good. Please don’t stop.” He dug his fingers in your thighs to keep them apart. He thrusted his tongue in and out of your cunt, sometimes, keeping it in deep, filling up all the right places, grazing all the right spots until you were wiggling, and legs wrapping around his face, bucking your head up.

He let you do it. Let you suffocate his face until your juice rolled down his mouth and he pulled himself away. White liquid covered his lips and something in your belly tightened at the sight.

It was so obscene but so hot. You pulled him by his vest to smash your lips on his and taste yourself. He slipped off his vest in the process, tearing down his top and struggling out of his black baggy pants, his boots already off.

He was left in those Calvin Klein sinful briefs that allowed you to see is bulge and fuck, he was big. Perfect length and thickness and that had you drooling literally. You wanted to touch every inch of his body. He was perfectly sculpted.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good, babe. Can’t wait to fuck you into oblivion.” He whispered in your ear and let you remove his boxers until his cock sprung free and stood proudly.

You were astonished and couldn’t tear your eyes away. You were never one to find dicks beautiful, but with Jungkook, you could stare at it and a suck it all day.

But not right now. There were more important matters. Like your desperation to have his cock fuck you.

“Jungkook, I need it inside. Please.”

Jungkook couldn’t get enough of your begging. He wanted to go as far as recording it and jerking himself off at night.

He aligned himself right in front of your entrance and looked up at you. “Are you okay? I really want to fuck the shit out of you but if you changed your mind—“

You cut him off with your finger, grinning at him. “I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life. So please, do it already.” Jungkook’s face brightened up at your response. He liked how you had shut him up and ordered him.

You pushed yourself against his cock just as he began slipping it in slowly, groaning and snuggling his face in the crook of your neck, biting right under your jaw.

“Oh my fucking god, I won’t last long,” he mumbled, sucking in multiple sharp breaths. One of his hands was holding himself beside your head and the other was wrapped around you, securing you in his grasp.

When Jungkook was fully in, he stayed still for a couple of seconds, enjoying the way your walls were so warm and perfectly wrapped around his cock. But then, he slowly slipped out until the head of his dick was at your rim and slammed back in. “Oh fuck—”. You bucked your hips up, meeting his thrust and letting out a scraped moan along with Jungkook’s groan.

“If I knew it was this good,” you started but cut yourself off when he picked up his pace, squeezing your flesh, “I would’ve accepted your offer from the beginning.”

He chuckled, looking down attentively as his cock disappeared in and out of your pussy, being soaked with your slick. It was warm and it drove Jungkook crazy. He wanted to stay inside forever.

“Well, I wanted to fuck you the moment I laid my eyes on you,” he admitted and slowed down his thrusts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion until Jungkook flipped you over and you were straddling him. From this position, everything felt so different. He felt so much deeper, as if you could feel him with your hands if you touched your belly.

He gripped your hips tightly to the point when it almost hurted and glanced up at you. “Ride me like the naughty little slut you are, hm?” His voice was so hoarse compared to earlier, and so much more seductive and his sinful words rolled off his tongue in a way you found so satisfying.

You nodded and wrapped your hands around his neck. As you bounced up and down, your breasts followed the rhythm and they were practically jumping in Jungkook’s face, basically calling out to him to suck on them.

Which he ended up doing, letting go of your hips and licking, biting and squeezing the sensitive skin of your chest. He marked your entire cleavage until he was happy at how dark and red it looked.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, earning a strangle moan out of you two and then a moan from Jungkook when you clenched again.

“Is my little slut already so close?”

“Y-yes. It’s so good, I can’t hold it in much longer.” His hands grasped your waist and slid you down his cock until it was buried so deep, you couldn’t find the voice in you to make a sound. He was fucking you so well.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl. I think you deserve to come.” He mumbled, moving his head closer to yours and nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Please, Jungkook. I want to come so bad. Please please.”

“Fuck, begging like that, I don’t think I can last longer too.”

His words made you keep going, bouncing on his length over and over again to the point where you reached some overstimulation, shaking violently in his arms.

Your voice was loud and the only word that was heard was Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook.

Your cum ran down his length, to his thighs and made his skin glisten in white. Your head was dizzy and your eyes hazed as you glanced down at Jungkook. Your stomach kept tightening every time he moved his hips upward.

He came no longer after, slamming you down his cock and keeping you there for a long moment, moaning how good you were and how hot you looked.

You leaned on his chest after a moment, catching your breath although it proved to be a difficult task. Your lungs felt empty, devoid of any air. But it was fine because you had just been fucked by Jeon Jungkook. And it was the best sex of your life.

After Jungkook regained his composure, he wrapped his arms around you and looked up. One of your hands was running along his tattoos and the other was busy, combed in his sticky hair. Jungkook was a fucking piece of art.

“So,” he started, pushing a few locks of hair away from your face, “Do I still need to pay for that ticket?”

“Heck yeah.”

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itsthestutterforme · 3 days

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Should We Try Again? 1/2 (toxic!Rafe Cameron x toxic!reader)

Summary: Rafe tries to accuse you of cheating, and you did some snooping of your own. And when Rafe found out you went through his phone, you were in for it.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, Topper is a really good friend in this fic, reader is black, dark themes (choking, threats, arguing, name calling, overall just toxic behavior)

If any of these making you uncomfortable, pls don’t read. Take care of yourselves.

You and Rafe had one of your fights again. The yelling match, screaming in each other’s face kind of fight.

The kind of fight where the police gets called because someone heard glass breaking and shouting.

This particular time, he logged into your Instagram and founded close to 50 DMs from guys commenting on your stories where you posted your OOTDs.

You never opened any of the DMs but there were too many to go unnoticed.

“Do you get off on having other guys want you or something? Huh?” He starts as he abruptly forces his way into the bathroom where you were showering.

“What are you talking about, Rafe?” You snark, ringing out the water from your hair.

“What the hell is this?” He rips the shower curtain open.

“Rafe!” You scold, shutting off the water so none leaks onto the floor. He shoves his phone in your face and repeats, “What the hell is this?”

“They’re DMs, Rafe. Why are you talking to me like I did something wrong?”

“Because you did do something wrong by not blocking these sons of bitches. You like the attention, don’t you? You fucking slut.”

“Don’t you dare call me a slut, asshole. It’s DMs. They don’t mean shit!”

You close the shower curtain so you can resume your shower when he ripped it open again.

“Oh it means something when they’re sending dick pics, Y/N! They want to fuck you!”

“It doesn’t matter if they want me because I’m with you, Rafe. Not them.” You tried to reason.

You were already exhausted from work and you really didn’t need this right now.

“You’ve been sending them nudes, haven’t you?” “Are you fucking serious, Rafe?” “Do I look like I’m joking right now?” He says flatly, his nose flaring angrily.

“No, I haven’t sent anybody nudes. I didn’t even know they sent me dick pics because I don’t open them, Rafe.” He gives you a pointed look and you crossed your arms as a challenge.

It was clear you weren’t going to shower in peace so why not add some fuel to this fire.

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Shame on me for having fifty unopened DMs but everything is okay when you have hundreds of opened DMs?” You antagonize, slowly stepping out of the shower with suds still on your body.

You watch as his face fell for a few seconds before it hardens once again.

“You’ve been going through my phone?” He asks. “Of course I have! Because I know you’ve been in my phone, desperate to find secrets to use against me. So I figure why not dig up some secrets of my own.”

“Y/N,” he warns lowly, taking a step towards you.

“What did you find?” He wrote down a few things about the cross.

Like where he’s already looked and potential places where it might be. But he hid those notes behind a passcode in his journal.

There were also a few texts of Ward asking ‘if it was taken care of’. Garret’s body.

There was no way you could figure out the passcode, right?

“What are you so scared I would find?” You questioned, purposely being vague. There was no point in being specific, if he was going to connect the dots for you.

His anxiety got the best of him and he wraps a hand around your throat, giving it a warning squeeze.

“Stop being cute and tell me what you saw.” He orders.

There wasn’t a constant pressure so you were able to breathe fairly normal. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind.

“I only went through your social media and some of your messages. Nothing else.” His hand twitched around your throat when you mentioned messages.

“I just wanted to see if you were texting others girls.” You added, wrapping your hands around his wrist.

“What else?” “Nothing else, I swear.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Y/N.” “I’m not lying to you.” He pulls away from your throat and you instinctively touched your collar bone.

His gaze softens when you stepped away from him. He itched to get close to you and apologize for over reacting, but he still wasn’t sure that you didn’t know about the gold and the bodies.

So his hands remained by his sides, tightening every so often.

“What are you protecting?” You asked cautiously. “Don’t pull that shit again.” He states before storming out of the bathroom and slamming the front door of your house.

That was a few days ago, and you haven’t spoke to each other since. The most interaction you’ve had was him viewing your story. That’s it.

You’ve been going straight home after work, not wanting to interact with anyone unless you had to.

But a small part of you wished you’d come home to Rafe waiting for you on your door step or him come to see you during your break.

But he never did. That was enough for you to come to the conclusion that he stopped caring about you.

He was so worried about protecting something or someone that was willing to choke you out to protect it.

You’ve seen him anxious about a few things but nothing set him off like you did that night.

You were watching one of your comfort movies with your fleece blanket wrapped around you, eating some stir fry you ordered on UberEats when your phone chimed.

Topper: hey you doing okay?

Tossing the phone back on the bed, you used the chopsticks to dip a piece of beef into the speciality sauce before eating it.

Your phone chimed again.

Topper: We were friends before you started dating Rafe, remember? I care about you too.

You: I assume Rafe told you everything?

Topper: Just that you had an argument and you’re on a break

You: Well that’s an oversimplification.

Topper: I’m throwing a party tonight. You should come.

You: I’m not exactly in the mood to get hit on by a bunch of drunk dudes.

Topper: Stick by me and you won’t have that problem.

You: You’re right. Instead, you would have a Rafe sized problem.

Topper: I’m not scared of Rafe.

Topper: Just come by for a few. It makes me feel uneasy that you’re by yourself at home all this time.

Topper: Please.

You: Fine, Topper.

Topper: Great! I’m on my way.

You hated yourself for how quick your eyes locked in on Rafe as soon as he walked into the party wearing a navy blue shirt and a white hat that matched his white cargo shorts.

He dapped up a few guys that greeted him by the front door and looked straight up to where you were sitting next to Topper.

He found you almost immediately with an expressionless face.

Your heart skipped a beat that he looked for you but that feeling of elation left you as quickly as it came.

He didn’t reach out to you for three days. No call. No text. No apology. He was done and now it was your turn to feel the same.

“You two are like magnets,” Topper says from behind you. “Toxic ones,” he eventually adds with a chuckle.

“I knew you were going to say that,” you teased, playfully hitting his shoulder.

Sadness kicked your gut when two girls approached Rafe, one of them ran her hands over his chest as she went to whisper something in his ear.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” You said when you notice Rafe coming up the stairs with the girls.

“I’ll come with you,” you gave him a look. “What? I meant it when I said stick by me. Let’s go.”

He lets you lead the way and you go down the second set of stairs but you stopped abruptly, peering down at your jewelry.

Everything you were wearing was gifted to you by Rafe, even down to the earrings. You still wore the R golden plate necklace and matching anklet. You had his signet ring on your thumb because that was the only finger it could fit.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Topper questions. Rafe was watching the entire interaction from the loveseat you and Topper were just sitting on.

You bent down to take off your anklet and moved to take off your earrings next.

“Can you help me take off the necklace?” You asked, pulling off the ring and placing it with the other jewelry.

“Sure,” he agrees, pushing your passion twists out of the way.

You felt his warm hand brushing against the back of your neck when he unclasped the necklace.

He put the necklace in your outstretched hand. You walked back up the few stairs you crossed and approached Rafe whose eyes were still trained on you.

You let out a shaky breath before taking his warm hand into your own and giving him the jewelry. You were beginning to miss his touch.

Guilt flashed across his face, looking down at his hand. You avoided his gaze and left him without another word, rushing down the stairs and Topper followed after you.

“Well that was dramatic,” one of the girls says, rolling her eyes while her friend eyes the gold carat in Rafe’s hand that easily amounted to 75k.

“Can I have the earrings?” She asked and before Rafe could respond, she reached for them anyway.

Rafe caught her hand in a tight grip and she whimpers at the pressure.

“You’re hurting me,” she groans.

“No one told you to touch what’s hers,” he shoves her to the ground. “Hey! You asshole!” Her friend snaps, standing from the couch and helps her friend to her feet.

He doesn’t spare them another glance as he digs in his pocket for a baggie to do a few lines.

“Y/N,” Topper calls, finally catching up with you in the kitchen. “Are you okay?” He asks you, examining your face for anything he could read.

“You should check on him,” you poured yourself a shot in a small solo cup and knocked it back, barely making a face.

“I’m checking up on you,” “It needed to be done, okay. All of it were just reminders of what I don’t have anymore.” You explain, pouring yourself another shot.

“That was very brave for you to do.” “Then why do I feel like shit?” You huffed after taking another shot and he stops you from pouring another one.

“Because the break up is still fresh, Y/N.” He looks at you like you’re going to fall apart before his very eyes.

His soft eyes examines your face for any micro expression that could give away what you’re thinking.

“Look, Top. I know you’re trying to help and all but if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to cry.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I want to enjoy your party. Your birthday is tomorrow. You shouldn’t be spending it watching me cry.”

“That’s not happening. I’m not leaving you.” He shakes his head and you took his hands into yours, much like you did with Rafe.

But Rafe’s hand were warmer.

“It doesn’t make you a bad friend. I’ll find Sarah.” He studied your face once again and you gave him a soft smile.

“Go,” “Alright,” he says, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I’ll come find you in like ten minutes.”

“Take your time,” he leaves the kitchen and you let out a deep sigh. You shouldn’t be here.

But you didn’t have the heart to ditch Topper on his birthday rager.

You pressed your palms into the cool, granite countertop and bowed your head to release the tension in your neck.

You hadn’t realize someone was in the kitchen with you until you heard footsteps and someone’s low voice. To your surprise, it was Pope standing on the other side of the counter.

“Sorry, were you saying something?” You asked softly, the shot were slowly starting to get to you.

“I said you are too pretty and insanely smart to be treated like an option.”

That was the nicest thing anyone said to you. You haven’t felt valued in a long time.

“Thanks, Pope. That really means a lot.”

His mouth fell open at your words. “You know who I am?”

“Yes I know who you are. Your family makes the best seafood boils in town.” You explained with a chuckle.

“She knows my name,” he said to himself, which he quickly realized you can hear.

“I should haven’t said that out loud,” he admits and you let out a laugh.

“You’re cute,” he scratches the back of his neck to hide how flustered he way. “Um, are you hiding from Rafe in here?”

“Yes, I am.” You admitted, crossing your arms. “Well if you want some company, my friends are by the bonfire outside. If you want to join. O-only if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything or-“

You interrupted his rant to say, “Sure. I’ll go with you.” You took a solo cup and swung by the keg on the way out, offering some to Pope.

“By the way, what makes you think I’m insanely smart?” “I’m a TA for Mr. Patterson. He still uses your test as a grading key.” He explains after taking a swig of your beer.

“Of course he does. I loved his class.” You admitted with a chuckle. “What is this?”

JJ stands from the chair and motions between you and Pope with his ringed pinky.

“I told her she can hang out with us.” “Hey, JJ.” You greet with a small wave.

“‘Sup, sweetheart. Want a hit?” He offered a blunt to you and you graciously accepted.

He had a grin on his face as he watched you take a hit. He expected you to cough or at least have your eyes water from the potency but much to his surprise, you exhaled the puff of smoke slowly without a fuss.

The mix of the weed and the tequila was throwing your head in a spin. “Never pegged you to be a pothead,” “I’m full of surprises, Maybank.”

A drunk Rafe stumbles outside in search for you when he finds you laughing with Pope and JJ.

JJ noticed your shivering whenever there was a breeze and peeled off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

Rafe wasn’t even aware what was happening until his vision started to blur.

He was crying.

#black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron x you

162 notes · View notes

saltofmercury · 1 year

Note

that break in post was adorbs 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 if ur reqs r closed just pls ignore this (except for the first part, ur writings gorgeous) but can i req an actual breakin scenario :o like w angst maybe- maybe going further in with reader’s feelings toward konig and his “different persona” after all that happens during an actual break in when theres genuine danger

thank u!!

“The Intruder”

Summary: An intruder comes into the house with König is home with you.

A/N: let me know if I hit or missed!

It had been over 4 months since the raccoon incident. The break-ins had stopped around your apartment, König had felt better with you staying at his place. Everything seemed to go back to normal again.

During this time, König had left on a small mission, returning back almost a month and a half later. He seemed different this time around, he was more on edge, always on guard, and protective. He seemed tense, always looking around his shoulder, looking out the window, at his surroundings, at the tops of his neighbors houses, down the street from his house, it was almost as if he were wishing something would come out.

You could sense him differently too. The way he had built a routine every night on shutting and locking his doors and windows. When walking and entering shopping malls or small restaurants he would enter first almost as if to make sure it was clear and then held the door for you and gently pushed you in with his hand on your lower back.

“We’re okay babe,” you would say to bring him back to reality, and he would nod back to you absentmindedly.

Then one night, it happened. The home you and König had made together, had been tarnished.

It was right before you went to bed, you were brushing your teeth when you heard something down the hall. König had been in bed already dozing off to whatever movie he had been trying to watch for the past week. You peeked outside the bathroom,

“Did you hear that?” You said with foam running down your mouth

He was still fixated on what was on the screen.

You spit out the foam and rinsed, you called out to him

“König?”

He looked up at you, dazed, then brought back to reality with glass breaking in the background.

It was with that sound that the König you slept next to was now replaced with König, from KorTac.

Almost as if he had anticipated this, König pushed himself out of bed, reached for a knife he had stored under his bedside table, pulled the mask to conceal his identity, and then the bat he had stashed in the closet.

“König what are you doing!? — wait!” He had grabbed you by the wrist and brought you aside towards the end of the bed.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” You had to try to speak with a level head. Only you and König knew what was really waiting for the person.

“The police have nothing to do with this.” He spit out harshly, his accent coming out.

“This person comes into my home, they get to deal with me.”

Panic had bubbled into your stomach, beads of sweat behind your neck.

You heard a couple doors burst open, then one more door burst open, followed by a shrill of a voice unknown to you cry for help. You rushed to the voice.

In the middle of the living room, König had the stranger lifted up by the neck, 3 limbs moving in the darkness. You turned on the lights.

The bat König held was on the ground. You panicked, knowing König could kill the guy in an instant, you immediately began to think of a rational solution to all this. This wasn’t a KorTac mission, this was your home.

“I’ll call the police,” you began,

“I don’t need the police,” he spat out. His back still turned to you, “when I’m finished with him he’s going to have to pick up his guts.”

A chill ran through your body. This wasn’t the man you’ve shared a bed with. It wasn't the man you got to know these past months. You saw the man choking, barely moving, and rushed to his side.

“Please put him down” you pleaded, “You’re not out there right now you’re here with me.”

König dropped the man down roughly, the man coughing up and attempting to breathe again. König stood watch above the man, his gaze piercing through him, he quickly bent down towards him, the man winced in pain and fear.

You ran into the room to dial the police.

It wasn’t until the police arrived that you realized König had broken the man’s leg. The police took the report from König and collected the man, you took some breaths to collect yourself.

König had been sitting on the table playing with the knife. As if nothing had happened. Anxiety crawled back to your stomach. Would he have really killed a man inside his house?

“König—”

He wouldn’t look at you. It made you feel sick.

“K-König you could’ve killed him. In our h-home. In front of me.” You said softly. The picture of the man in a red face kept flashing back into your head.

König said nothing, toying with the knife in his hands.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? Does it not worry you that you could’ve done that in front of me?”

He peered up at you, “I told you what I was, what I was capable of.” Closing the knife up.

It sent chills down your spine. You suddenly feared to be near this person. You were terrified. Turning towards him and spoke softly,

“I’m gonna go home, I think it would be best for us to get some space after tonight.”

He didn't speak a word or try to stop you. Just as the man had encountered pain and fear from König, you just left with the same.

#könig #konig call of duty #konig x y/n #könig x reader #ask #könig drabble?#call of duty

2K notes · View notes

whyse7vn · 9 months

Text

SEVEN -

[ ot7 x reader ]

sevendaysafreak

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

tae: we are watching jungkook slowly become alpha

namjoon: can you be normal today

jk: do you really mean that bro…

tae: with all my heart..

oh my god i’m tearing up

this is what being a real man is about

jimin: begging for pussy??

jk: I DID NOT BEG??

hobi: you harassed that poor woman for a whole week

yoongi: all for a hand hold

y/n: crazy!

tae: okay??

but it was literally real as fuck so does it matter??

jimin: it was real fucking sad

jin: personally if i was her i would of called the police like sexual harassment hello???

yoongi: right

namjoon: it was a great song jungkook

jk: > //// <

i’m blushing

that was me blushing

and i giggled a little

smiling rn

hehehehehe

namjoon: a thank you would of done it

jk: thank u >.<

jimin: she should of punched him

jin: was there need for an explicit version like??

we got the point the first time

i didn’t need to hear how horny you were for a second time

hobi: he just wanted to swear

tae: no he’s just real as fuck you wouldn’t get it

jk: real as fuck

yoongi: ig it was real as fuck for jungkook

he begs for pussy on a daily

jk: proof?

hobi: by bts

y/n: i’ll leak our dms

jk: DON’T DON’T DON’T

i’m sowyy 😣

jimin: i’m gonna punch him

hobi: fucking seven days a week doesn’t seem right

is that not how you get an std?

jk: no?

yoongi: is that not when you fuck multiple people?

y/n: you fuck multiple people jk?

jk: NO?????

jimin: why is ur no a question

hobi: suspicious

jin: jungkook has crabs

tae: that’s a real man disease

y/n: that’s gross

jk: i’m real

jimin: real itchy

namjoon: can we not talk about stds pls

y/n: i bet jay park has a couple of those

jk: ???

jimin: REALLLL

jin: that’s why him and jk are friends bonded over the burn

jk: i’m not his friend anymore

y/n: character development okay!!!

yoongi: was that bcs he stole from you?

jk: stop talking to me rn

jimin: OMG GUYS

yk i had the worst dream ever yesterday tae was in it

tae: and?

jimin: wdym and

tae: i hope you die

namjoon: pls don’t wish death upon people tae

jimin: yeah tae

tae: all of you can fucking die idc!!!

not jungkook tho he real as fuck

y/n: say real as fuck one more time and i’ll snap ur neck

jin: hot asf

yoongi: ew?

tae: nobody wants to see us winning jk it’s sad 😞

jk: i’m sobbing 💔💔😞😞💔💔

tae: they literally told us to kill ourselves

namjoon: literally no one said that

jimin: in fact YOU said you hope i die

jk: he could of meant by natural causes

tae: right i would never tell you to kill ur self that’s sick and evil

yoongi: kys

tae: ur not going to heaven

yoongi: aw man 🙁

hobi: what if we put tae in the electric chair

jin: what if we put tae and jungkook in the electric chair

jk: wtf ☹️

tae: i could easily survive the electric chair it would feel good to me actually

y/n: i’ve been telling you guys for years we need to lock them up

do you actually read the bullshit they say on a daily it’s actually insane they need help

like professional help

jk: i didn’t even say anything

jimin: you don’t need to

we just know

namjoon: i agree

we could send them to a camp

or something

tae: why are you talking about us like we’re not RIGHT here

jungkook get them omg

jk: i can’t go to camp

too much raw air exposure is bad for my skin

and i have a dentist appointment soon

yoongi: raw air?

jin: how soon is ur appointment?

jk: so soon that i can’t go to camp

tae: JUNGKOOK STAND UR GROUND

WE WILL NOT BE PUSHED AROUND

REPEAT AFTER ME

WE WILL NOT BE PUSHED AROUND

namjoon: tae shut up

y/n: right

tae: i liked it better when you guys just ignored me in this gc

now all you do is be mean

jimin: maybe u deserve it

*you definitely deserve it

hobi: stop talking then idk

yoongi: i will gladly ignore you again

jk: i love you tae i’ll listen to you talk

jin: jungkook the biggest dick rider ever

tae: he’s my little dick rider 🥰😍❤️

hobi: yeah definitely stop talking

namjoon: okay!

y/n: oh my god

jimin: ???

yoongi: um

jin: this is what seven was really about

jk: bro..

tae: lol

jimin: you're really gorgeous i would deadass fight 3 mountain lions in a mcdonald's handicap bathroom stall with my hands tied behind my back and my only weapon is a shake weight glued to my forehead just to get a chance to get to know you and take u out tbh

jin: nurse he’s out again

jimin: wrong chat lol

tae: and you wanna put ME in the electric chair

ur all out of ur minds

namjoon: you were gonna send that to someone????

jimin: is it bad?

y/n: so unbelievably bad

jk: blushing

yoongi: wow

tae: yikes

hobi: bts never beating the rizzless allegations

y/n: who were you gonna send that too?

jk: was it me?

yoongi: that was flirting?

jin: probably the notes app

jimin: no one

jin: told you

notes app.

jk: it wasn’t me?

tae: i’ll be nice and give you some better lines jimin dw

jimin: the only lines you have are of coke

tae: nvm fuck you stay bitchless

namjoon: leave jimin alone

jimin: right leave me alone

namjoon: he’ll open up in his own time

jimin: i fucking won’t

you guys deserve to know NOTHING about me

yoongi: okay don’t care kys

jimin: i have a crush

jin: i’m hungry

hobi: is this the same crush you talked about like 4 weeks ago??

jk: on me?

sorry jimin i’m already in love with someone else

yoongi: didn’t ask

jk: i won’t tell you who it is it’s a secret

namjoon: a secret from who??

jk: what does that mean…

namjoon: don’t we all know…

jin: i SAID i’m hungry

jimin: all you do is eat like omg??

get a job or something??????

jin: i have a job

i serve face for a living i would suggest you look into it since you have so much free time to BULLY and HARASS others but with a face like urs idk if you’ll make the cut

y/n: wow

jimin: i’m not reading all that 💀

y/n: never use that emoji again ew

jimin: 💀💀💀💀💀

y/n: this is why whoever ur trying to rizz up probably thinks ur a loser

yoongi: is it taemin again?

tae: ew you run back to taemin every 4 months it’s kinda embarrassing

jimin: taehyung you actually need to shut ur mouth

breathing the same air as you is embarrassing

and at least i have someone to run back to you are actually genuinely bitchless

tae: u are taemin’s bitch

so technically ur as bitchless

yoongi: gay

jk: don’t be a homocrome

namjoon: stop talking

jimin: it’s not even taemin so shut the hell up

i’m not talking about this anymore

moving on

hobi: what is your mbti guys

jk: physical touch

namjoon: that wasn’t the question

y/n: just say ur horny and go omg

jin: don’t

seven was actually enough

i will hear NO more about jungkooks sex life

everything i have learnt has been without my consent

my lawyers will be in touch

jk: my lawyers are ur lawyers

jin: not anymore

jk: omg…

hobi: oh my oh my god

namjoon: jin stop facetiming me i’m not answering

jin: pls joon pleaseeeeeeeeeeeee

namjoon: i’m not sitting there for you to look at urself in the camera for an hour

i have things to do

jimin: that sounds like very jobless behaviour to me tbh

jin: you can’t be ugly and jealous pls pick a struggle

tae: and rizzless

hobi: i know ur not talking…

tae: ????

hobi: tae i need you to do some self reflection

tae: okay?

i’m hot as fuck

cool as fuck

and real as fuck

i feel well reflected ty for suggesting that hoseok

y/n: i told you i’m gonna snap ur neck if you said that again

start running

jin: coming to watch 🥰

422 notes · View notes

kiwisbell · 6 months

Text

The Impaler

Chief Detective Tim Rockford makes a breakthrough in New York City’s latest serial killer case. The mysterious culprit is in the mood to share more than information.

my masterlist!

pairing: tim rockford x f!reader x max phillips

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: vampires, gothic architecture, slightly dubious consent, implied mind alteration/control, murder, death, blood, threesome, lots of biting, spanking, spitroasting, masturbation, DVP, fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap ur vampire dicks pls), wife sharing, free use kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), exchanging fluids, spitting, disgusting and filthy, max using cringey nicknames for reader’s pussy but it’s charming bc it’s max, handcuffs, light bondage, hair pulling

word count: ~ 7.2k

read on ao3!

a/n: hello, my loves!! i wanted to do something special for halloween, so i decided to slap together a short, silly, unpolished one-shot inspired by dracula! this one is dedicated to my vampire obsession and tim rockford's shoulder holsters. anyway, please mind the tags, and enjoy!!

PREFACE

“No one but a woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart." — Bram Stoker, Dracula

“I swear to God, Ron, I’m two seconds away from taking up smoking again.”

Chief Detective Tim Rockford pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling his eye twitch minutely with every pass he makes of the cork board.

The seventh victim in two weeks, and he’s no closer to an answer. Last night, thirty-two-year-old Dean Madison was found by the harbour, a couple shades paler than his family insisted he usually was and with two small puncture wounds in his neck. Otherwise, the coroners didn’t find a single wound on him. Before Madison, it was a couple in Central Park, and before that, a college football player. Their bodies were all found in virtually the same condition, but not one of them is related.

Random. Unplanned acts of violence carried out exclusively at night, predicated on nothing but the apparent desire to kill. The culprit left no fingerprints, no murder weapon, no footprints. There's no motivation.

Groaning as he stands, elder Detective Ron Lauder hands Tim a manila folder. “List of the boats going in and out last night, if you fancy makin’ your eyes cross. I gotta call it here, man. You should go home, too, get some sleep.”

Tim claps Ron on the back. “Nah, man, I gotta file these away first. You go on home.”

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when you fall asleep in your Cheerios tomorrow.” Ron leaves yawning, and Tim hears the door gently click shut in the distance, signalling a familiar solitude in the bullpen.

The other cops know about the case. They all have bets running. Will the chief get it right? Will he get himself killed? When’s the next victim going to show? Tim indulges their morbid little fantasy pool by devoting most of his waking—and sleeping—hours to the task.

He decides to settle in with the logs from the docks. Scanning every line item, he feels his eyelids pulling down, and takes another sip of coffee to stay awake.

One name catches his eye. Demeter.

Tim narrows his eyes, his gaze travelling across the page. The logs only account for the past twenty-four hours, but he's seen that name before. He sets down the file and hurries to his desk, rifling through the top drawer, setting aside his pocket knife and his gun, to produce another file labelled ????

Not very creative, but it’s not like he’s going to label a file My Latest Failure. He opens the folder and scours the paperwork inside for witness statements.

There.

Fuck—here it is. His first goddamn lead.

On the 14th of October, a dock worker watched the Demeter stroll up to the harbour through the water and a man saunter inside, exchanging cash with the driver. The man left with a box. Because the Demeter was listed as a private vessel, the dock worker had reason for concern if the boat was conducting business without a license. He reported this to the police.

Tim eyes the cork board, following the red thread that connect each victim. He curses.

The next day, the boat’s driver was found dead in a Soho alleyway. Two puncture wounds in his neck.

Jesus Christ. Tim’s fingers tremble as he turns the page to continue reading.

If the Demeter is conducting frequent illegal business from that harbour and the client doesn't want anyone finding out, it’s likely that client is exactly who Tim is looking for. And it's even likelier poor Dean Madison was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Give me something. A wire transfer pattern. A paper trail. A benevolent benefactor who keeps the engine running.

Outside, the wind whistles, and Tim blinks away sleep. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shape pass by the window, and his head jerks up.

There's a bat hanging from the tree outside. The creature stares for a long while, near-incisive, as if telling Tim to go the fuck to sleep. He checks his watch. It’s two o’clock.

More than enough time to head down to the docks.

The next night, just after nine o’clock, Tim knocks on the door of a hulking mansion in Soho.

The Gothic spires of the home stretch to the wispy clouds, the moon taking up a vigil over the grand roof. Arched windows glare down at him. You are a trespasser, they hiss. You do not belong here. The door knocker is shaped like a pair of bat wings, and the ancient, ornate doors creak under the force of his pounding. Overhead, clouds continue to roll in, signalling some fall storm. A shiver racks his body.

A woman opens the door, and Tim’s heartbeat stutters.

You’re beautiful. Your smile is so radiant it infects your eyes, your body draped in a tiny white slip, skin so soft it seems to glow in the light. You briefly assess Tim with those keen eyes.

“Good evening, sir,” you say. Tim licks his lips. Your voice is soft as water.

“Good… uh, good evening, ma'am.” He forgets that he is supposed to remain suspicious and clasps his hands together in front of him. “Chief Detective Tim Rockford. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Oh,” you purr, demurely folding your hands together in a mirror action to Tim, “of course. Would you like some coffee?”

In the movement, he catches a glimmer of the golden band around your ring finger. “No. Thank you.”

Amusement twinkles in your eyes. “That’s good, because we don’t have any.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he says good-naturedly. “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Phillips,” you reply dutifully, nibbling your bottom lip. “Max Phillips.”

Fuck.

He has the right person. He just can't help but wonder if you're a part of it, too.

There’s not a chance. You’re too good. Too beautiful. Your eyes pull him in, waves swallowing the shore, your pupils shrinking and dilating as if speaking to him.

“Have you seen this man?” Tim asks, presenting a picture of Dean Madison, drained of blood and neck punctured.

You frown, but he finds no glimmer of recognition in your eyes, no evidence of an increased heart rate. “Oh, gosh, no. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,” says Tim. He doesn't know why he bothers, but he hides the gruesome image. He doesn't want to see you upset.

“Am I in trouble for something, Detective?”

Your breasts sit so nicely in that little nightgown, the line of your thighs so tempting under the hem, your skin so fucking dewy he could lick all the nectar from it. Tim blinks hard. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“No,” he says tightly. “Just here to ask some questions. Does the name Demeter mean anything to you?”

Sheepishly, you shrug. “She's a Greek goddess.”

“She’s also a boat,” says Tim. “It’s connected to two incidents by the docks in the past couple weeks.”

“Incidents?”

The curve of your throat would fit his mouth so nicely. You’re beautiful in the way a marble statue is—elegant and poised, carefully arranged, silk dripping like honey off your perfect fucking body.

Tim clears his throat. His head feels foggy.

“Do you mind if I speak to your husband?”

“Maxie?” your sweet voice calls. The sound echoes off the polished walls, petering gently to a lullaby, and Tim wants to rescue you from such a cruel place. “Maxie, there's a man at the door, and he wants to speak with you.”

A man descends the grand spiral staircase, dressed in a suit even though it’s nighttime, adjusting his cufflinks and grinning like a real schmoozer. He’s got the same dark eyes and nose and mouth as Tim, but marked by signs of youth the detective doesn't have. He’s clean-shaven, bright-eyed, lively.

“Evening, Detective,” says Max Phillips. “Hope you haven't been giving my wife any trouble. Hi, baby.”

You beam at him, holding out your hand. Max threads his fingers through yours and pushes himself into your space, playfully nipping your earlobe. Your giggle is intoxicating. Tim wants to be the one making you smile this way.

“Mr. Phillips, have you seen this man?”

Phillips takes a break from crushing his nose in your throat to examine the picture. “Haven’t seen him,” he says, “but it looks like he isn’t seeing anyone.”

“Last night,” says Tim, tucking the picture away, “I went down to the docks and took a look around. You know what I found, Mr. Phillips?”

“This isn't a very fun game, Detective.” Phillips is busying himself with your hair, twirling a lock of it around his finger. You stare up at your husband like he hung the fucking moon and Tim wants to know what it feels like to earn that look.

“I found blood,” says Tim. “Bags of blood from St. Clare’s Mercy in St. John’s. What kind of sick bastard steals blood from a hospital? I wondered. Then I checked the registration and found a name. Phillips.”

The revelation doesn't seem to faze Phillips the way it did Tim. His lips curve in a frown against your temple. “Looks like the detective knows how to do his job.”

You play with your husband’s fingers as if coaxing him to use them on you. “Didn’t mean to,” you whisper.

“Shh, sweetheart, I know.” Max tucks your hair behind your ear, his voice so gentle. “I know you didn't mean to, baby. We all get hungry.”

Tim's nostrils flare. You’re both so indifferent to all you've done—you don't care one bit that you've killed, that you’ve left Tim and all his inferiors scratching their heads and losing sleep for weeks.

He’s got his culprits, all right.

What the fuck do they want with bags of blood?

His lip curls. “Just tell me the truth. We can all work together here.”

“About that man by the docks,” you say softly, stepping forward with a placating smile on your face. “I got carried away, Detective. I never wanted to—”

Tim has heard enough. He withdraws his gun from its holster and points the barrel between your eyes. “Do not. Move.”

Your lower lip juts out in a pout, but Phillips’s eyes darken, playful veneer crumbling fast, at the sight of a gun pointed at his wife. “Now, Detective,” he says good-naturedly, though his rigid posture betrays any sense of camaraderie. “If you're gonna point that gun at anyone, it should be me.”

“That so?” Tim’s eyes don't stray from you. Your eyes are wide as a doe’s, your glossy lips parted in vague shock, your silky nightgown contoured so deliciously to your shape. You smell fresh, roses and perfume, and his head goes fuzzy. Your skin looks so soft, glowing under the orange firelight…

He wonders how you would taste.

His finger trembles near the trigger.

Phillips presses closer to you, his hand sliding around your waist, his fingers splaying over your ribs. Possessive. His eyes are on Tim, and that look—it peels him apart. Tim may be holding a weapon, but he feels powerless to do anything at all.

Fear strikes him true. He should not have knocked on this door tonight.

“You know what I like about people?” says Phillips, idly circling his thumb over your waist while his eyes fall to your pretty face, his other hand twisting your hair around his finger. “I like that they're so… hmm, supple. It's like plucking all the petals off a flower. Can see all the stuff inside with one little pull.”

Phillips suddenly ducks his head and Tim jolts, pointing the gun his way, but the killer only places an open-mouthed kiss on your throat, just beneath your ear.

Tim watches your eyes flutter, a sedated little smile growing on your face, and he wants to know. He needs to know what you taste like.

“That’s more like it, Detective,” says Phillips, playfully nipping your throat before he pulls back. Tim sees a flash of glistening white as the killer bares his teeth and presumes a man as well-off as Max Phillips knows something about veneers. “I know what you want. You don't want to point that gun at my wife, do you?”

Tim’s jaw ticks. He doesn't. He doesn't want to hurt you at all. He wants to make you smile. He wants to slip his hand inside that nightgown and tear it all away to see what's beneath. He wants to put his mouth on you, touch you, do whatever you fucking want him to do.

Phillips chuckles, and a tremor oozes down Tim’s spine. He isn't safe here—he knew this straight away—but there's more to the couple in front of him than they’re letting him know. “Mmm, she has that effect on lots of people,” says Phillips. “Can’t tell you how many men I’ve had to kill just because they decided to touch.” He pinches your ass for effect and you laugh, hiding your face in Max’s neck.

“Is that a confession?” says Tim, gritting his teeth as another wave of your perfume pervades reason.

“Sure,” says Phillips, “it's a confession. But I don't think you want to leave. I think you want to stay here and fuck my wife. Do I get the cash prize, Detective?”

Tim wavers. The door is… It’s right there. He’s standing just inside, could turn around and bolt the hell out of here now, could radio for backup and cuff both of these freaks in two seconds.

He lowers the gun.

“Thaaat’s it,” coos Phillips. “I’ll offer you a deal now. Make her feel good, and I’ll forget about you pointing that gun at her.”

Tim’s cock is stiff in his pants, blood surging downward and away from his brain, his body calling to the siren song emitting from you. He’ll drown in it. There's no turning back. Behind him, the door swings closed, untouched.

You grin at Tim, biting your bottom lip and threading your fingers through Max’s hair. This way, you keep your husband fixed to you, nipping playfully at your throat.

“Do you want to touch me, sir?” you ask him, your voice dripping nectar.

Tim’s jaw ticks. His head inclines in a nod.

“No, no, no, Detective, that's no fun,” tuts Max. “Is it, baby?”

“Mmm, no fun,” you echo, the sound of it melodic, enchanting. “Want you to want it, Detective. Want you to show me you want it.”

Tim nods again, stepping closer, his eyes raking over your body in that little white slip, held in place by Phillips’ hands.

“You're not going to touch my wife with a gun in your hand,” says Phillips darkly. “You’re going to drop it, and then you’ll clean off your dirty fingers in her pretty cunt.”

Tim flicks on the safety and sets the gun on the table just inside the foyer, shucking off his jacket. He doesn't care about the goddamn case anymore. He’s bone-tired, sick of all the overtime he's putting in with no return on investment, and so lonely that it aches. He needs a body to bury himself inside, a sweet, pretty girl to taste. He didn't expect he’d pick the woman he's been chasing for weeks.

He approaches you slowly, taking in the entire length of your body, wondering about the texture of your hair, the softness of your skin. He gets to explore it tonight. He won't waste the chance.

The first touch electrifies his nerves. Your skin is velvet under his rough palms, your head tilting idly to the side as your husband continues to kiss your neck. Tim caresses your arms, memorising the feel of you beneath his fingers, and lets your eyes swallow him.

“Can I kiss you?”

His voice scrapes over your skin and lifts goosebumps, some echo of the bodily instincts you once had in life. You practically purr as you hook your fingers in the holsters straining under his broad shoulders and tug him closer.

“Please kiss me, sir.”

The scent of roses washes down his throat as he cups your face and slants his mouth over yours. Max occupies himself in the junction of your throat and shoulder, canines gently grazing what used to be your pulse point. You moan softly into Tim’s mouth, and his cock reacts accordingly, twitching in his pants as he presses his body against yours to deepen the kiss.

“Tastes so sweet, doesn't she?” Max muses, his hand squeezing your hip. “She’s picky, too. Must like you a lot.”

Tim groans as he pulls you closer, his hand warming the small of your back over the flimsy silk slip. His tongue slides along yours, his fingers threading in your hair, and he grinds his clothed cock into your hip. He eagerly swallows down your whines, consumed by how fucking good you feel against him.

Max’s fangs begin to protrude from his gums as his tongue lavishes your throat, lapping up the sweetness rolling off your body, your hormones, the way you radiate need even though your heart does not beat. His cock prods your ass, confined in his pants, straining to find the friction he needs. You're melting, hands grasping greedily at Tim’s holsters, his button-up, trying to absolve him of his clothes.

He’s so dizzy he can barely stay upright. He belongs right here in your shadow, kissing his way across your jaw, so caught up in the fervour of pleasing you that he doesn't notice the way your pulse does not flutter under his lips.

“Does it feel good, baby?” says Max, his fangs close to puncturing your skin. “Is he doing his job?”

“Yes,” you whisper, lashes fluttering as Tim’s moustache scratches the sensitive skin below your ear. Your fingers curl in his tousled hair, dark and streaked with grey, signifiers of age your Max will never show. Your Max, who wants to taste you even though it doesn’t sustain him, who indulges in the sublime sweetness of your blood just because he loves it.

Tim’s big hands trail down your body at the same time his mouth does, shifting the silk nightgown in his feverish need to feel more of you, bringing the entire thing down to the floor with him in one aggressive tug. You gasp, your nipples stiff as they're exposed to the cool air, your thighs squeezing together instinctively, watching Tim sink to his knees in front of you as if in a trance.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” Max’s hand trails across your belly, palming at your thigh. Tim is crushing his nose into your skin as he kisses the spot where your hip meets your thigh. “You want him to taste your pretty pussy?”

“Yes, Max,” you whimper. “Yes, please.”

His lips ghost across your temple. “Don’t beg me. Beg him.”

Your eyes dip below your body to find Tim staring expectantly at you as he scatters kisses along your belly, your thighs. His pupils eclipse those warm brown irises. “Please, Detective.” You comb his soft hair away from his forehead and bite your lip at the way his taut expression telegraphs unaltered desire. He needs this. He needs you. “Please taste me.”

It's all he wants. His big, broad shoulders ease your thighs open while Max moves to your back, letting you balance against his hard chest. The scrape of the leather holsters on the back of your thigh makes you shiver as Tim guides your leg up onto his shoulder. You’re fucking dripping for him, your pussy glistening with your own arousal, clinging to your inner thighs. Tim’s eyes shudder as he slowly licks your juices clean off your skin, his fingers dimpling flesh.

“How’s she taste?” says Max, his hand fixing around your throat. Your hand overlaps his for a grip on reality, your other firmly wedged in the dreamworld, grasping Tim’s messy hair.

“So fucking sweet,” growls Tim, his teeth sinking into your inner thigh, over your femoral artery.

“Oh,” you moan, your head lolling against Max’s shoulder. “He likes to bite, Maxie.”

“A thorough detective,” purrs Max, his thumb caressing your jaw. “Hard to find that kind of dedication these days. Don’t make her wait, Rockford. She wants you; I can smell it.”

Tim’s nostrils flare—one last breath of air before he sinks wholly under the water. His tongue darts out to part your folds, sliding languorously through your wet slit. You bite your lip at the sight of his strong shoulders wedged between your thighs, his nose pressed hard against your clit as he circles his tongue around your hole. You’re fucking nectar. It's euphoria, the indelible high he will always be searching to replicate.

“Detective,” you sigh.

Tim groans into your cunt, his hand coming down in a hard smack to your thigh. The sudden shock of the slap pools arousal in your core, a pitiful yelp leaving your mouth.

“Sir!”

“The detective knows what this pretty little kitty wants,” says Max, grinning against your cheek. He punctuates his words with a playful thrust into your backside. “He knows you like it rough, honey. You like that?”

“Yes! Yes! More, please, I’ll do anything.”

Max considers this, humming ponderously into your throat. “Anything?”

Tim places an open-mouthed kiss on your needy clit, and you gasp, “Anything!”

“You got a pair of handcuffs on you, Rockford?”

It's a flurry of activity. You're transported efficiently to the couch in the living room, a gigantic jewel-green sectional, your hands bound behind you by two cold metal cuffs. Bent over the arm of the sofa, your thighs are spread, your cheek pressed into the cushion as you're shamelessly bared for the pair of them. Whining, you wiggle your hips, standing on your toes and presenting yourself for someone to make you feel good, already.

“My poor baby.” Max is gently caressing the curve of your spine. “You said you'd do anything. You wanna break your promise?”

“No, no, I’ll be good,” you beg. “I’ll behave, please!”

“Hear that, Rockford?” says Max, still smiling fondly down at you. “She’ll be good.”

Hands grasp your thighs and wrench them farther apart, warm breath—living breath—blowing on your cunt. “Sir,” you gasp, writhing under his big hands, “are you gonna be nice to me?”

Tim licks a bold path through your slit and hums, his head spinning, inebriated from a taste alone. He’s keeping you spread open, lapping up your sweet juices, fixing for his next hit. Making you moan is victory alone. He’ll be more than nice to you.

He fixes his mouth to your clit and you cry out, your hands flexing uselessly in the handcuffs. He suckles at your pearl, every sensation heightened by the fact that you can't move, buried under the weight of all the hands and metal links and pleasure. Max watches, pleased with your behaviour, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. “You’ve been bad, honey. Got a little reckless. We’re gonna teach you how to be good.”

Tim nips your clit, Max’s silent partner-in-crime, and you mewl.

“Like you… know anything… about good.”

“Mmm, and so rude.” Max clicks his tongue in reproach. “Detective, I think you should show my wife what happens when she's rude.”

The tongue licking through your cunt stops, and a garbled sound of protest escapes your throat, your eyes bleeding mascara into the cushion. You pulse frantically around nothing, desperate to be filled somehow, anywhere. You whimper for Tim, Maxie, someone, please—

A hot, wet glob of saliva lands on your puckered asshole, and a gurgled moan leaves your lips as Tim cleans off his own spit with his tongue.

As he swirls the wet muscle around your hole, his hand comes down in a hard slap on your ass, and you squeal, your arousal splattering on his clean white shirt. Apparently pleased, Tim groans, two thick fingers parting your folds.

“Ah! Oh, fuck, sir, please…”

Kneading the flesh of your ass in one hand, the other occupies itself by playing with your pussy, and for the first time, the detective gives you an order.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, sinking two fingers into your tight cunt. His voice sounds like the shroud of night, like he knows exactly how illicit this is and fucking delights in it.

The feeling of his tongue on your asshole and his fingers curling up against your spongy walls has you drooling, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. “It’s… ah, fuck… it’s so good, Detective. Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna—”

Max tucks your hair behind your ear so he can see the wrecked, dazed expression on your face. “We’re going to fill you up, honey. Let you prove that you're a nice girl. That sound like fun?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying to maintain eye contact with Max even as your vision blurs with tears, “s’good. Need to come, Detective. Please.”

Tim spanks your ass again, his mouth slurping indecently at your backside, his fingers coaxing you to a high you don’t see coming. Your thighs shake uncontrollably as he rubs up against your g-spot, your mouth dropping open in a silent scream as your entire body seizes.

“There she is,” purrs Max, “such a nice girl, asking before she comes. How does your pretty kitty feel, baby?”

“Mmmsogood.” It's all a jumble in your mouth as your tension dissolves. Behind you, Tim is so gentle, licking up the release that has dripped down your thighs and tastefully avoiding your pussy.

Max caresses your cheek. “Check in with me, honey. You want to keep going?”

You nod vigorously, flexing your fingers. Max intertwines his hand with yours, squeezing. “I want you in my mouth, Max. Wanna make you feel good.”

He grins crookedly, making eye contact with the detective behind you. Tim’s eyes are black, bright as a moonlit lake, his cock tenting his pants. Max isn't much better off. Your body will do that to a man. A woman. Fucking anyone.

He’s just better at controlling himself. He’s had seventy years of practice.

Max’s eyes don't waver from Tim as he speaks to you. “Want our nice detective inside you, baby?”

“Oh, please,” you gasp. “Please fill me up, sir.”

Max cocks his head toward Tim. “I think she's been good enough. Don’t you?”

Tim nods. You have. You’ve been so good. He’ll give you any goddamn thing you want. He’ll throw himself at your feet time and time again if it means you’ll look at him this way. Over your shoulder, you meet his eye, smiling sweetly enough to give him a toothache.

“I’ll be a good girl, Detective.”

The glint of the metal cuffs reflects in his eyes, and he looks like an animal.

Both he and Max shuck down their zippers, but it’s Tim’s hands that grab for you, hauling you backward by your hips and wrapping one large hand around the chain between your cuffs. Pulling hard, he forces your body upright as Max settles in front of you.

You look up through your lashes at your husband, who tangles his fingers in your hair and yanks your head back. You’re effectively suspended in the air by both men, your hips sorely rubbing against the arm of the sofa. It’s intoxicating.

Between your kiss-bruised lips, Max watches your fangs protrude, and he tuts.

“Gonna have to learn to control yourself, baby. Otherwise, this is gonna hurt for me.”

You swallow hard, retracting the sharp points of your teeth back into your gums. Max sings his praises by pulling out his hard cock and slapping it playfully against your cheek. Moaning his name, you begin to drool, the need to please igniting your body into action, your fuse lit from both ends.

Behind you, a warm, hard length rests between your asscheeks, and your back arches as best it can with Tim pulling at your cuffs. “Mmm, you’re so big, Detective,” you croon. “Is it gonna fit?”

Tim tugs roughly at the cuffs, a deep noise like a growl leaving his lips. “Gonna fuckin’ make it fit.”

“Open up,” says Max, guiding his cock to the seam of your mouth. “Open, and he’ll stuff your pretty little cunt.”

You part your lips and stick out your tongue, eager to take your husband’s big cock into your mouth. He’s long, thick, ridged with veins that you could trace with your eyes closed. But he doesn't like it when you close your eyes. He wants to watch you take him.

He pushes the tip into your hot, wet mouth, lip curling to reveal sharp teeth glinting white in the firelight. Your skin is pleasantly sticky with warmth, your mascara smudged beneath your eyes. Tim grasps the base of his cock, smearing his precum through your folds and catching on your clit. You moan around Max’s cock, letting him slide deeper down your throat at the same time the detective’s cock notches inside your cunt and begins to sink inside you.

Tim’s free hand grabs your hip to steady himself. Fuck, you're goddamn tight—warm and wet, your greedy pussy sucks him in, wrenching open around his length. His nostrils flare with self-restraint, the Herculean task of maintaining some composure even as his entire body thrums with the need to take you, to use you like a pretty doll and relieve all his stress.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“She’ll let you,” says Max, and Tim has to blink hard to see the man across from him. “She’ll let you use her. She likes being treated like a cumslut. Right, honey?”

Your fingers flex, locking around Tim’s wrist, and you bob your head around Max’s cock. “Shit, that’s right,” growls your husband. “Feel that, Detective? She’s fuckin’ begging to be filled up. Don’t go easy on her; she won’t be happy.”

Tim feels the rest of you give, and his hips bump into your ass. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The fire's embers crackle against his back. He’s where he belongs.

His first thrust is experimental, watching the way your ass jiggles and your nails dig into his wrist, your throat contracting around Max’s cock. His second is indulgence: a slow drag out, back in, savouring the way your walls suffocate him. By the third, he’s lost control.

He begins to fuck you hard, the momentum of his thrusts forcing Max’s cock down your throat. “Je—fuck,” spits Max, fisting your hair, transfixed by the tears brimming in your waterline, the delicious slide of his length along the walls of your hot throat. “Such a fuckin’ pro. Gonna turn me into a two-pump chump. Gonna fuckin’ embarrass me in front of our guest.”

Tim grits his teeth as he pounds you, relishing his total control over your body, bending it to his will. You're so fucking good, so sweet, and he doesn't know why he ever suspected you.

He should turn in his badge for pointing a gun at you.

You whine around Max’s cock when Tim grinds deep, the head of his dick kissing your cervix, your eyes rolling back in your head. He feels you shudder underneath him and does it all over again, fucking you hard, deep, mercilessly.

You swallow Max down to the base, wiggling your tongue along the vein on his length. “Gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he groans, but you're undeterred. You hum, the vibrations coursing through his body, and his balls pull up, emptying his cum down your throat in rhythmic pulses.

“Fuck.” Max pulls out of your mouth just to spill the last of his cum on your bruised lips, painting you white. “That’s my fucking girl. Show me.”

You open your mouth again, tongue lolling out to proudly display his release. He rubs his thumb over your chin and spits into your mouth.

“Now swallow.”

You do, gulping down his cum and showing him your clean tongue when you're done. Max smirks, too damn proud for his own good. “Made you cry.”

You have little room left in your head to bask in his praise. Tim is taking charge, engulfed in the ecstasy of fucking you, his hips punching hard into your ass and forcing your back to bow with the grip he maintains on the handcuffs. Your next orgasm is approaching, your clit rubbing against the arm of the sofa and sending electrical tremors to your core.

But Max is still steel-hard despite his orgasm, watching the way your ass bounces with the force of Tim’s thrusts, your bound hands collected in a useless pile at your back, the breathy moans that leave your mouth. “Gonna need to take a break from breaking her, Detective. I want in, too.”

Some territorial part of him snaps and claws, too consumed by your body to let another man near it. Max clicks his tongue, giving Tim a dangerous smile. “Be careful, Rockford. Don’t get greedy with your treat.”

A strangled “unh” is your input, eyes shuttering as Tim reaches deep inside you again, mounting your orgasm to a foregone conclusion. Max sees the glaze drip down over your eyes, and decides to watch you come apart under a different man’s cock. “Spoiled, honey,” he mutters. “You’re spoiled.”

You come hard, joints locking and thighs squeezing Tim’s where they keep you spread apart. Your entire body jolts with electrical pulses, the pleasure coursing white-hot through your useless veins. He holds you in place, impaled on his dick, writhing around to get as much of him inside you as you possibly can. Tim grits his teeth, a faint whimper escaping his throat. The feeling of your pussy contracting around him, soaking his length, has him dizzy, close to keeling over—the scent of you, the warmth of your tight cunt, the way you coo his name and call him sir. Thank you for letting me come, sir. Fuck, sir, you feel so good inside me. Don’t leave me, sir.

He doesn't ever want to leave this fucking house.

Max slides his palm over your spine and you melt under it. “Come on, honey, let’s get you up. I’m in the mood to share some more.”

You whine as Tim reluctantly pulls out, weeping precum into your used hole. He’s going to fucking die if he doesn't come soon.

He helps you upright, kissing all the way up your spine and enjoying the soft hums of pleasure that emit from your lips. He wants to stay forever. He wants to bury himself inside you and never pull away.

“Mmm, Detective,” you purr. “So strong.”

“Yours,” he grumbles, his plush, wet mouth feverishly tracing a path along your jaw. “‘m yours.”

“Hear that, Maxie?” You beam at your husband, threading your fingers through Tim’s behind your back. “He’s mine.”

Max grins. “Let him prove it. C’mere, honey.”

Tim walks you to the couch and helps you kneel, settling behind you. Sitting in his lap, his mouth on your throat, you watch Max approach, slowly fisting himself. He kneels, too, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp his name, your back arching, and Tim uses the opportunity to slot himself at your entrance, sinking you down on his cock with none of the care he took the first time around.

He’s deeper at this angle, grinding up against your front wall, absconding with any attention he had for staving off his orgasm. His teeth nip your earlobe, your jaw, one arm banding around your waist and squeezing your breast.

In front of you, Max grips himself and continues to rub your clit with the head of his cock. You mewl like a cat, and Tim groans, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he hisses, his hips bucking up into you. “Jesus, baby.”

“He’s a blasphemer,” teases Max.

“Good,” you sigh, your head falling back onto Tim’s shoulder. The scent of leather and sweat engulfs your heightened senses, and the erratic thrum of his pulse echoes in your ears. His blood is warm, thick, rich—

Just a taste, you think, your eyes drooping at the very thought. Just one taste. I’ll be good…

Max coaxes you to another high with the pressure at your clit, but when he sees your mouth drop, he takes it away from you. You pout, petulant as ever, and Max mirrors it mockingly.

“One dick inside you isn't good enough?” He shuffles closer, yanking your head back by your hair and kissing you hard. His tongue dips into your mouth, and your fangs begin to descend, catching his lip before he breaks away.

Max prods his lip with his thumb and watches the blood bead, reaching out to smear the small crimson stain onto your lips. Hungrily, you lick it up, the cat with the cream, staring up at him with those faux-innocent eyes.

He snarls, fitting the head of his cock at your already-filled entrance. “Relax.” It’s Tim's raspy voice, mouth still fixed to your throat. You sink into him, letting Max open you up wide.

“That’s fuckin’ it, baby,” says your husband, smoothing his hand over your belly and wrenching open your hole to fit himself next to the detective. “Feel us in here?”

“Unnghhh.” Your mouth is open, your pearly fangs glinting in the dim light. Tim drags his nose up your throat and opens his eyes to study your face in the moment of pleasure.

He barely registers the too-sharp teeth, the blackened veins crawling from your eyes. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It's all he knows as he begins to fuck you in tandem with your husband. His body vibrates with desire. His head is static. He belongs to you.

You’re so full. You're going to burst, and they're relentless, uncaring, caught up in the list and pheromones and perhaps the competition of seeing who can get you there first. You can only manage faint squeaks as they repeatedly take you, your body suspended, a pretty toy they get to use as they like. It’s so erotic that your cheeks burn, your core building with the pressure of another orgasm.

So fuckin’ tight.

Such a pretty fuckin’ doll, letting us use your body.

Gonna take our cum, baby? You gonna keep it all safe inside you?

She’s coming. Looks so pretty when she comes.

Come, pretty girl, and we’ll fill you up. Give you a nice treat.

You no longer know who’s speaking. It's all rolling around in your head, the smell of blood pounding in your skull, the temptation to turn your head to the side and taste the nectar from his throat. Your orgasm devastates you, your body quivering, both men lavishing their tongues and mouths over your skin as they continue to wreck your cunt.

Fingers flex against your ribcage, your wrist, and Tim is coming, his teeth bared against your temple and the leather holsters on his shoulders scraping wetly against your back as he grinds into you and stays there. His hot cum pumps into you, splattering your walls and Max’s cock. His balls continue to empty inside you as your husband reaches his peak, nudging your chin upward so he can sink his teeth into your throat, gulping down your blood.

Max’s head goes fuzzy with your taste, sweet and soft as velvet as it slides down his tongue. You moan at the feeling of his cum filling you up at the same time he depletes you of blood you don't need. They both empty themselves inside you and let your body slump against him. You hear the rustle of a key in your handcuffs and feel them release, falling to the floor.

Max and Tim ease out of you, and you turn around to lower yourself onto Tim’s hard chest, toying with the buttons of his shirt. Behind you, Max scoops up globs of cum that have slipped out of your used hole and stuffs it back inside.

Tim’s eyes are fixed to you, dark and gentle, his hand gently squeezing your wrists. “Did I hurt you?”

“You couldn't hurt me,” you purr, sliding your hands under his collar and threading your fingers through his tousled hair. “You're so sweet to me, Detective. So big and strong.”

He trails his fingers up your back until he can cup your face in his hands, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. “Your teeth…,” he murmurs, a vague expression of puzzlement on his face.

“You aren’t going to take me down to the station, are you, Detective?” You curl your finger around a lock of silver hair, pouting down at him.

“No, baby.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I’d never. You’re safe. Safe with me.”

You beam at him and playfully nip his nose. “You’re a good detective, Mr. Rockford. You’ll find the killer soon.”

He nods vigorously. “I will.”

“And you’ll put them away,” you say, biting your lip as you slowly unbutton his shirt. “Because you're so good.”

“I’m good,” he echoes, unable to tear his eyes from yours. His body feels limp, calm, satiated, when he's touching you this way. The job disappears. The stress disappears, the exhaustion and the malaise. Humankind is a pathology, and you are his cure.

“Max,” you coo, resting your cheek on Tim’s chest and listening to his strong heartbeat. “I like him.”

Max hums, his knuckles gently dragging up and down your spine. “I know, baby. You wanna keep him?”

Quietly, you nod, littering kisses from his chest to his neck. You indulge in the fluttering pulse beneath his jaw. Tim smiles, sedated, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Max nods, giving your ass a playful squeeze. “Okay, honey. Go on—ask him.”

You prop yourself up on Tim’s chest and trail your fingers through his beard. “Do you wanna stay with me?”

Tim’s brows crease. “You want me to stay?”

“Forever,” you whisper conspiratorially, your fingers drumming an eager little dance on his chest. “I’ll make you real happy. I promise.”

Tim sees the points of your canines, the veins bleeding from your darkening eyes, and feels no fear. He lets you tip his head back, baring his throat, and he lets you lick a bold stripe up his neck. My answer is yes, he thinks, and he hopes you can hear him, crawling happily down into a hell that will warm his body for eternity.

Peace overcomes him as your eyes meet his, and your fangs sink in deep, the light slowly dimming to a faint memory.

CASE CLOSED.

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #tim rockford x reader #merge mansion #tim rockford #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips x you #max phillips x reader #max phillips x f!reader #max phillips x reader x tim rockford #max phillips fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction

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diqnbaus · 11 months

Text

Let You Break My Heart Again

Pairing: Miles Morales x spider person reader

Summary: Takes place after ITSV but before ATSV. You and Miles had a plan to meet up but he blows you off so you confront him and you two fight.

Category: Angst

A/N: Yall I’ve never written fanfics before so pls don’t bully me. I also have no clue how to use Tumblr so pray for me.

One hour and fifty-three minutes. You waited one hour and fifty-three minutes for Miles on top of a building, in the cold weather, freezing. Only after that one hour and fifty-three minutes did you realize that he wasn’t coming.

‘What if something happened? What if the police scanner hadn’t picked up there was an accident yet? What if he’s hurt?’ You thought to yourself while pacing the roof.

You then decided the best option was to literally swing by his house and check on him.

Climbing over to his window, you peeked inside quickly to make sure it was clear to get a full look. But when you did, you saw Miles at his desk drawing in his notebook with his headphones on.

He caught the movement from the window and jumped when he saw you.

“God y/n, you scared me,” he said while opening his window to let you in.

“I scared you? Miles, I waited almost two hours for you. I thought something bad happened,” you all but yell, while taking your mask off and slipping into his room.

“Shit. Y/n Im so sorry. It totally slipped my mind.”

“I reminded you twice today at school.”

“I know and I’m sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” Miles explains while walking over to his bed and sitting.

“Like what? What were you doing that made you completely forget about me?” You ask, annoyed.

“I didn’t realize I had to tell you everything about my life now.”

“Miles. What where you doing?”

“..Drawing,” he says sheepishly, like he knows he’s been caught.

You decide not to respond, instead walking over to his notebook he had been working on and picking it up.

“Hey! Wait-“ He gets up and yells as he tries to get the book from you, but you interrupt him by putting a hand up.

Your heart drops into your stomach at the drawings inside. It’s all Gwen. You swallow the lump in your throat before speaking.

“I’m sorry that I’m not her.”

“This isn’t about Gwen, y/n.”

“Of course it’s about Gwen! Everything with you is about Gwen. You’re so goddamn obsessed with her that you can’t even spare me a text to tell me you’re blowing me off!”

“That’s not true! I swear, I just forgot. This has nothing to do with her. I was just-“

“Oh yeah, I remember now. You forgot because you were too busy drawing Gwen! God, she’s even all you draw,” you flip to another page of his notebook “Gwen,” another page, “Gwen.” More pages, “Gwen, Gwen, you and Gwen, Gwen, Gwen!” You yell flipping through the pages before giving up and shutting the book.

“What about me?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you cared about being drawn so much,” Miles scoffs.

“Miles this isn’t about the drawings!” You shout.

“Then what is it about?!”

“It’s because-“ you cut yourself off. ‘It’s because I like you. Like-like you and you’re obsessed with Gwen the way I wish you were obsessed with me,’ is what you wish you could say.

Instead you look at him. He looks back, like he’s waiting for you to say something. Like he knows what you’re thinking and is just waiting for you to say it.

You sigh and put your mask back on while walking towards the window, “You’re right Miles. I’ll try not to care so much anymore.”

Slipping out the window and swinging away, you faintly hear Miles calling out to you, but you didn’t feel like talking anymore. The lump in your throat felt like it was drowning you and the headache from the unshed-tears felt like it could kill you.

Another a/n: I love Gwen I swear please forgive me.

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #angst #miles morales x y/n #this is so embarrassing #into the spider verse #laufey if you couldn’t tell #i was listening to #laufey #if you couldn’t tell

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thehusbandoden · 4 months

Text

Burnt -Dabi x Reader

A/n: felt angsty lol. I'll write an alternative ending or maybe a second part soon~! <3

General info:

Genre: pure angst \\ wc: 1,224 \\ posted: 01/03/2024

Summary: you gave the love of your life too many chances already. But this time? He crossed a line.. a line that should have never been crossed.

Warnings!: pure angst, no happy ending, spoilers of Dabi's backstory, Dabi's real name, arguing, toxicity, crying, mention of blood, suggested abusive childhood, trauma, gaslighting, manipulating, being badly insulted, being unable to apologize, flinching, being physically harmed, break up, shame, guilt, annd I think that's it! Pls let me know if I miss anything! <33

Alternative Ending- More Than Life Itself (Dw he doesn't get away with it, but it's fluff/comfort!)

Hurt coursed through your being as you glared at your beloved, biting your lip in pent up anger. “Why can’t you just trust me?! I’m not going to hurt you Touya!”

“Do not call me Touya.” He growled, his hands clenching into fists. “You’ve done nothing but use me. All you ever care about is yourself, you’re a lazy, selfish, manipulative, and flat-out disgusting woman.”

You open your mouth to retort, but quickly close it, shocked at his words. You only want him to be happy. All you do is provide love, support, shelter, and safety for him. You haven’t left him no matter how many times he’s insulted, manipulated, or gaslit you.

You gave him shelter in your own home, no matter the risks of police, heroes, or other villains. You sat there as he yelled at you, insulted you, and belittled you.

But... this?

This was too far.

“Do you mean all that?” You murmur, your eyes lowering to the floor. Your lip started to tremble.

Dabi sneered. “Yes. Every single bit of it.” His turquoise eyes were filled with pure hatred.

“Then just leave me.” You murmur, your hands shaking.

“What did you say?” Dabi scoffed.

“If I’m such a terrible person, just leave me and find someone better.” You spit, your e/c orbs filling with tears.

“Are you really crying? Pathetic. Maybe I will... I’ll find someone who’s a lot better. She’ll be gorgeous, loving, selfless, and best of all- completely opposite of you.” Dabi snickered, pulling his black combat boots on.

You don’t say anything. A few tears strayed down your face. Dabi scoffed. “Good.” You whisper.

Rolling his eyes, Dabi pulls on his long leather jacket and his large backpack stored with all his belongings. He came home only a few hours ago... you tried to tell yourself to stay quiet, but you couldn’t help it...

“Did you ever even love me?” You whisper, a few more tears joining the first.

Dabi paused, his turquoise orbs moving to the floor. He doesn’t say anything, hardly even breathing. Silence envelops the two of you for a few moments before he speaks. “I... don’t love anything. Or anyone.”

More tears fell.

“So what? I was just- a- a game?” Your voice shook. Your control began to tremble.

“You were something to pass time.” He muttered, running a large hand through his black hair. “Nothing more.”

A choked sob broke through your lips. “Nothing? Nothing else at all?”

“Yes. You were nothing but a stress relief.”

A second sob followed the first. You could have sworn you saw Dabi’s sneer falter for a mere second.

“What? Did you really think I could love someone like you?!”

“Just go. I would wish you misery-” your voice cracks, “-but you’re already cursed. You break whomever and whatever is around you. You destroyed us and you destroyed your fam-" -a loud smack echoed across the room. Everything but you and Dabi’s heavy breathing were heard.

You stared at the floor, your cheek burning. You couldn’t believe that the man you once loved and trusted could ever do something like this... he was not only cursed- but a liar at that.

Biting your lip, your tearful eyes meet Dabi’s cold ones. No one other than you wouldn’t be able to tell how he was truly feeling. But you knew that his eyes were full of regret, guilt, and shame. But he wouldn’t apologize. He never would.

“Get out.” You whisper, clenching your hands into fists. Dabi’s mouth opened ever so slightly.

“What did you say?” He asked softly.

“I said get out.” You demand. Tears fell down your face, making your cheek sting further. You silently cursed at your vulnerability.

“Oh, come on y/n- it wasn’t that big of a deal.” Dabi protested, reaching out to hold you. He was gaslighting you. Again.

“No! It was that bad! You didn’t only slap me Dabi, you burned me.” Dabi froze, your words finally pulling himself out of his delusional state. His eyes widened as he eyed your bruising cheek- it was not only bruising but burned.

His face fell in horror. He subconsciously reached his hand to your cheek. You flinch, and he slowly falls apart.

“Y-y/n- I-I...”

“Get out. Now.” Your gorgeous e/c orbs hardened in rage, and he finally realized how serious you were.

“O-okay... I’ll go.” He murmured, moving his heartbroken orbs to the floor. “I don’t want to see you again. Ever.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“E-ever?”

“Ever. You crossed a line, Dabi.”

Dabi froze as he heard you call him his villain's name... you always called him Touya... you were serious. He yearned to apologize, to hold you in his arms as he coos at you, to fix everything he ruined.

His body jerked forward, but he didn’t budge. Opening his mouth, he inwardly screamed at himself to just- do it. The words were at the tip of his tongue.

Memories of his childhood flashed before his eyes- the screaming, the insults, the endless apologies left ignored, or even punished. Something inside him snapped and he just- broke.

“Good. I’m glad. I’ll be much better without your pathetic self weighing me down.” He sneered, pushing you aside, sending you scrawling to the floor. “You’re pathetic. Did you think that I loved you?!”

Another sob broke from your lips. “Out.”

“Y’know what? Why should I? You get out. I’m staying.”

“I pay for this apartment Dabi! I buy the groceries, pay the bills, buy the furniture, pay for the repairs- this is my place!”

“And I’m going to stay. Now either shut up and deal or leave.” Dabi growled. You glared at the man, your fingernails digging into your palms.

“Dabi- leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome. Not only have you physically harmed me- whom you swore to protect, but you’ve insulted, belittled, and totally disrespected me. I want you out of my apartment by-” you were interrupted by Dabi tightly grabbing your arms, his flames burning into your flesh. Hissing in pain, you push Dabi to the ground. He lets out a loud curse before shooting back up to his feet, glaring at you. His hardened eyes involuntarily softened as he met your teary eyes. His heart stung as he watched you fall into yourself, sobbing.

Dabi kneeled to the floor, trying to make eye contact with you. “Listen y/n... I-”

“Leave! Go! I don’t want you or your apology! Leave or I will!” You sob, gripping onto your shirt tightly.

Dabi’s cold, broken, and at most times invisible heart- shattered.

He did this to you. He was a monster... he was just like Endeavor.

Nodding, Dabi stood up. He turned away, walking towards the door. He glanced at you once more before walking out. He could hear your sobs as he closed your front door. He clenched his hands into fists. After a few moments of listening to your wails of betrayal, lost, and hurt, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He threw a punch to his cheek, cursing himself out as he walked away. Blood streamed from his eyes; his burnt tear ducts burning in agony as his body attempted to cry.

He insulted you.

He lied to you.

He broke you.

He burnt you.

And the worst part?

There was nothing he could do to fix it.

~~~~~

Dabi's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here <;3

~~~~~

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <33

Alternative Ending- More Than Life Itself (Dw he doesn't get away with it, but it's fluff/comfort!)

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

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meowzfordayz · 5 months

Text

conversations

Author’s Note: silly and sweet (and mildly sarcastic) convos. 😆🥰

conversations

Hashira x Reader, Tokito Muichiro x Reader, Kamaboko x Reader

Word Count: ~2,000

CW: explicit language

~faqs~

These are just lil convos I imagine occurring between various characters and Reader. 💞

In specific regards to Shinobu’s convo: she isn’t policing Reader’s diet!!!!! Hers is predominantly inspired by my own sweet tooth 😋, and how I often tell my irl bf to not let me buy candy when we go grocery shopping (similar to reminding myself that I don’t need x, y, or z when I’m window shopping; I’d spend way too much $ otherwise 😂🥴).

+ I wasn’t sure how to format this fanfic (I recognize the Character: | Reader: format gets repetitive) since I couldn’t rely on italics/bold bc I also use them to provide emphasis in the convos themselves, so pls and ty bear w/ me! 🤓

in the dining room; eating lunch

Zenitsu: You forgot to cut the crust off my sandwich. 😕

You: 🤨

Zenitsu: Are you mad at me? 🙁

Zenitsu: I’m sorry! ☹️

Zenitsu: I love you!!!!! 😭

You: Baby, Zenitsu, honey! I’m not mad at you!

Zenitsu: But the crust… 😔

You: Are you kidding me? 😐

Zenitsu: … no? 🥲

You: Would you like me to cut off the crust? 🙃

Zenitsu: YES! 😍

You: 🫥

Zenitsu: Please? 🥹

You: I love you more than I should. 🙄

Zenitsu: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? 😥😖

You: You’re actually the most dramatic person I know. 😃

Zenitsu: I have feelings! 😭 I am a sensitive man! 😭

You: I know, I know. 🫠 I love you. 🥰

Zenitsu: As much as you should? 🧐

You: As much as I should. 😁

Zenitsu: I love you. 🩷

You: I love you too. 🩷🩷

Zenitsu: I love you too, too. 🩷🩷🩷

You: I love you too times three. 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Zenitsu: That’s cheating. 😒

You: I’m not saying “too” three times.

Zenitsu: You’re gonna have to say it fives times after I say I love you too, too, too, too. 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

You: 😵

Zenitsu: 😭😭😭

getting dressed for the day; summertime

Inosuke: Let’s get a pet squirrel. 😁

You: Let’s not. 🙃

Inosuke: You’re so boring. 😒

You: You’re so obnoxious. 😌

Inosuke: At least I’m fun! 😎

You: Sure, darling, let’s get a pet squirrel. 😃

Inosuke: REALLY?! 😱🤯🥳🥳🥳

You: Inosuke, squirrels aren’t pets!!!!!

Inosuke: But they could be… 🥹

You: N. O. No.

Inosuke: I’ll pay for everything and take care of it.

You: I already do that. 🤗

Inosuke: 🤔

You: 😶

Inosuke: Did you just call me a squirrel?

You: Mhmmm. 🐿️

Inosuke: I wish I could climb trees like them. 💔😭

You: Do you really want a pet squirrel?

Inosuke: I guess not, but could we go to the park and look at ‘em? ☺️

You: We can do that. ☺️

Inosuke: Do you want a pet?

You: Are we ready for that?

Inosuke: Babe, we’re ready for anything.

You:

Inosuke: I mean it. I love you.

You: I love you too, Inosuke. I love you too.

in bed; a sunny Sunday morning

You: Hey love?

Gyomei: Hey what?

You: Would you love me more if I was a cat? 😻

Gyomei: 🤨

You: 👀

Gyomei: Of course not.

You: Sooo you would love me less? 😒

Gyomei: You’re putting words in my mouth.

You: So if an evil witch turned me into a cat, you would love me less. 😒

Gyomei: When did I ever say that?

You: You admit it! 😭

Gyomei: ?????

You: Meow meow. 🥺😔😖

Gyomei: I would love you more! 😁💖

You: YOU WOULD LOVE ME MORE IF I WAS A CAT? Fine, Gyomei. I’ll just go find a cat to replace me, Himejima-loves-cats-more-than-me-Gyomei. 😭😭😭😭😭

Gyomei: ??????????

in the kitchen; cooking dinner

You: Kaburamura needs a hat. 🤗

Obanai: No.

You: How about sunscreen? 🥺

Obanai: His face is perfectly fine in the sun.

You: But his pretty scales…

Obanai: You want to buy him a hat. 🤨

You: Correction, I want to make him a hat. A snake hat.

Obanai: A condom for his head.😐

You: You said it, not me.

Obanai: Kaburamura does not need a condom.

You: 🙃

Obanai: 😐

You: Pleeeease???! ☹️

Obanai: Whatever. Just don’t come crying when it immediately falls off.

You: I’ll tape it to him. 😌

Obanai: YOU WOULDN’T.

You: With… Snake-t, tape. 😏

Obanai: 😬

You: Y’know, Duck-t tape, but Snake-t ta-

Obanai: Just stop.

walking outside; a brisk spring day

Tanjirou: You’re so beautiful. 🥰

You: You’re so cheesy.

Tanjirou: You love cheese! 😋

You: I do. I love you a lot. 🥰

Tanjirou: Ooh, now who’s being cheesy?! 😉

You: I’m getting cold. 🥶

Tanjirou: You’re wearing three layers???

You: I can still get cold with three layers on. ☹️

Tanjirou: Do you want my jacket? 😁

You: It might not fit over my three layers.

Tanjirou: How about you swap me your thinnest layer for my jacket?

You: Tanjirou, I can’t just take off my t-shirt, right here, right now. 🤨

Tanjirou: But you’re so beautiful. 😌

You: That’s so far from the point.

Tanjirou: Piggyback ride? I can get us home faster. 😎

You: Is that a challenge? 🧐

Tanjirou: You want to race home instead? 👀

You: Nah. 💀

Tanjirou: Piggyback? 🤗

You: I bet you can’t carry me all the way back.

Tanjirou: Was that a challenge? 😏

You: You’re gonna be cooking dinner tonight. 😃

Tanjirou: I cook dinner most nights? 🙃

You: Again, so not the point. 😒

Tanjirou: That’s it. You’re shivering. All aboard the Tanjirou Train! 🥰

You: You’re so silly. 🥹

Tanjirou: There’s nobody around. 🥰

You: You’re still silly. 💞

gazing at the stars through a mesh ceiling; camping

You: It’s late. 🥱

Mitsuri: But I want to stay up forever with you. 🥺

You: That doesn’t sound too healthy. 😅

Mitsuri: Let me be cute. 🥺

You: You’re the cutest. 🥰

Mitsuri: Thank you for going camping with me.

You: Thank you for setting everything up.

Mitsuri: Thank you for getting all the bug bites for me. 🤭

You: You should thank me again 😒, they’re so itchy. 😭

Mitsuri: Thank you times a billion! 🤪💖

You: I love you.

Mitsuri: I love you more.

You: Most.

Mitsuri: You see those stars? 🌌

You: There’s a bunch.

Mitsuri: More than a bunch.

You: Definitely.

Mitsuri: That’s how much I love you. 💙

You: More than a bunch?

Mitsuri: I love you more than a bunch. 💙💙

You: A bunch of stars. 🥹

Mitsuri: Is what I see when I look at you.

You: We’re delirious. 🥴

Mitsuri: Deliriously in love.

You: I think the sky is getting brighter. 🫣

Mitsuri: We should get some sleep.

You: I was trying to say that ten seconds ago.

Mitsuri: Let me take care of you. 🥺

You: Kanroji Mitsuri, I’ll let you do anything.

Mitsuri: You mean it?

You: I mean it. You’re the meaning.

Mitsuri: I feel like that was supposed to be super romantic, but I’m too tired to understand anything right now. 🤗

You: Same.

Mitsuri: For what it’s worth, you’re also the meaning. 💞

You: We are, The Meaning.

Mitsuri: The Meaning. 😃

You: Oh jeez, we really need to sleep. 😵‍💫

Mitsuri: C’mere, scoot your sleeping bag closer. Sleepy times! 😴💘

searching for pancakes ingredients; a cloudy Saturday

You: We’re out of milk. 😞

Shinobu: So make something else?

You: You won’t go to the store with me? 🥺

Shinobu: With you? 🧐

You: I mean, I wasn’t going to make you fetch my milk alone. 😃

Shinobu: Surprising. 🙃

You: Hmpf. 😒

Shinobu: I would’ve done it. ☺️

You: Shinooobu, my loveliest love, could you go buy some milk for me? 🤗

Shinobu: You won’t go to the store with me? 🙃😉

You: Using my own words against me. ☹️

Shinobu: Absolutely. 😈

You: Are we going to go buy milk or not?

Shinobu: Or not.

You: Shinobu! 😭

Shinobu: I retract my previous statement. 😅 Let’s go buy milk.

You: Yay! 😍🥳🥳🥳

Shinobu: Do we need anything else?

You: Sugar. 😋

Shinobu: Actually? 🤨

You: We always need sugar. 😋😋

Shinobu: Incorrect.

You: Booooo. 😭😭😭

Shinobu: You’re about to make pancakes. You don’t need candy too.

You: But-

Shinobu: There’s ice cream in the fridge. 🍦

You: WAIT. 😳

Shinobu: ???

You: Ice cream equals dairy equals if we melt it then we could use it as milk?! 🫨🤯

Shinobu: 🤔

You: 😶 Shinobu: I don’t think that’s quite right. 🤓

You: Wanna try?! 🧫🧪

Shinobu: … how about you stay here and try while I go out and buy the real deal. 😌

You: Okay! 😁

cuddling on the couch; a cozy winter evening

You: Would you love me if I farted?

Kyojuro: You fart all the time.

You: 😒

Kyojuro: And I obviously love you. ☺️

You: Good.

Kyojuro: What kind of man would I be if I did not love farting?

You: 😶

Kyojuro: Wait-

Kyojuro: That came out-

Kyojuro: You know what I meant. 😖

You: I love you so much. 😂💘

Kyojuro: I fart too. 🤗

You: I’m aware.

Kyojuro: What if I farted and blamed it on you? 👀

You: I would love you a little less.

Kyojuro: Truly?

You: 🙃

Kyojuro: 😔

You: You would do that to me?! 😭

Kyojuro: … no! 🥴😃

in the bathroom; getting ready for bed

You: I have a headache. 🥺

Sanemi: You always have a headache.

You: Yeah, ‘cause I have you. 🤭 Ooh, burrrn, tssst. 🔥

Sanemi: 🙄

You: 😎

Sanemi: You’re the worst.

You: Says the worstest. 😉

Sanemi: Are you finished insulting me? 😒

You: Not even close. 😇

Sanemi: Well I’m finished being insulted. 🙃

You: Aww, is someone feeling… sul-ty? 🧂

Sanemi: 😃

Sanemi: Yes. 😐 Sul-tier than the sea. 😐

You: I love you! 🥰

Sanemi: I love you too.

You: Hehehe. 😌

Sanemi: Nobody actually says “hehehe”. 🤓

You: You’re stupid.

Sanemi: ???

You: Because I literally just said, hehehe. 😝

Sanemi: Go away. 😭

You: No.😁

Sanemi: Shoo.

You: I refuse. 😁

Sanemi: 😭

You: 😁

Sanemi: You’re the worst-er-est. 😑

lying side by side on the bedroom rug; a lazy afternoon

You: We should go swimming. 🌊

Giyuu: It’s snowing outside. 🙃

You: We should go swimming! 🌊🌊

Giyuu: The nearest body of water isn’t within walking distance. 🤨

You: We should drive somewhere to go swimming! 🌊🌊🌊

Giyuu: You’ll freeze to death. 😔

You: We can bring hot rocks and heat the water first! 😁

Giyuu: Where are we getting the rocks from, and how are we getting them hot?

You: The basement! 🤓

Giyuu: Furthermore, how will we transport rocks that are apparently hot enough to heat a body of water large enough for swimming without burning ourselves and our car? 🤔

You: With lots of love. 🥰

Giyuu: What do you actually want to do? 🙃

You: Go swimming? 🥺

Giyuu: … would you like me to prepare a bath for us?

You: 👀

Giyuu: 👀

You: Sure! 😍 That’s a great idea. 🥳 Thanks babe!

Giyuu: You’re so weird. 🥲

You: I looove yoouuu. 😘❤️

Giyuu: I love you too. 🥹

lounging around the living room; deciding on a movie to watch

Tengen: Fuck you. 😌

You: No, fuck you. 😒

Makio: Fuck you both. 🥴

Hina: Already have. 😎

Makio: ... you win. 🙃

Suma: Do I win too? 🥺

You: Sure. ☺️

Tengen: We’re all winners. 😃

Hina: I mean, technically, yes, but that isn’t the point. 😐

Tengen: Fuck. You. Too. 😞

Suma: I’m a winner! 🥰

You: Let’s pick something before Hina falls asleep. 🤭

Hina: Please. 😭

Makio: You always miss the middle. 😆

Hina: And then Suma wakes me up for the end with her snoring. 😴

Suma: Heyyyyy! ☹️

Tengen: I believe it was my turn to choose? 😎

You, Hina, Makio, and Suma: NO.

#hashira x reader #kamaboko #headcanons #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #zenitsu x reader #inosuke x reader #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #tomioka x reader #tengen x reader

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faef43 · 1 year

Text

PLS LOOK THE REBLOGGED POST I MADE OF THIS POST TO CONTINUE MY TIPS

HERE ARE SOME TIPS PLUS STORES TO AVOID

ALWAYS ADDING MORE SO CHECK BACK

I’ve been lifting for awhile and have collected some good tips and tricks on how to not get caught or be put in a system

-CAMERAS/MAIN TIPS-

I mainly lift small things like makeup, jewelry, small skincare, rings, pins, if it’s a good day maybe small lotions, but lifting clothes tips are coming soon!! (fixing spelling/grammar errors <3)

First of all, wear a mask and if you can style your hair in a way you usually don’t or use a beanie, bucket hat, baseball cap, never a sun hat way too suspicious. Ex. for hair: braids, space buns, slicked back, etc. I wouldn’t suggest lifting if you have brightly colored hair unless you want to go as far as to wear a realistic enough looking natural wig. Never wear sunglasses with a mask or a hat on, very suspicious, they will catch on. While finding blind spots never just turn around to face the wall and start stuffing your pockets and bag(s), instead stand at a 3/4 angle and be slick, I suggest lifting things while walking through a crowed isle, section, or doing it while walking, this one usually works if you have something small you can make it look like you’re adjusting your sleeves. ALWAYS GRAB 2 OF THE ITEM U WANT 2 LIFT, make the second one less apparent you have it, but if you take two and always keep one apparently in your hand, the cameras will be fooled. You have to have some sort of fingernails to scratch off price tags/barcodes/stickers, trust me when lifting you don’t want those on there. Take them off, rip them up and stuff it in your pocket or stuff somewhere non apparent, never throw them on the ground, super obvious. Don’t wear all baggy clothing, it’s really suspicious, always do the half half trick, half of your outfit baggy, half tight. Ex. Really tight shirt, hella baggy pants, really baggy hoodie, tight ass jeans or leggings. That way they won’t suspect you. If doing the baggy hoodie, always wear a secure sports bra underneath if u wear bras, great for slipping stuff into when pretending to adjust your bra, make sure your double of the product you want to lift is visible. By all means do not steal from target, they have high trained LP, workers that dress up as normal shoppers that they send to areas where they seek suspicion to spy on you, they keep you in a data base and share info/pics of you with other targets, cameras are nearly always monitored, store security is present, they let you walk out with things but eventually will confront you. The decision to call the police has already been made, target is a scary place, if you are gonna lift do only a 3-6 dollar thing, only once. Their employees count clothes for dressing rooms often times, pretty scary place stay safe. Some cameras are smoke detectors/speakers,boxes on the ceiling ect. Usually they’ll have some sort of light that’s always on, they look a little chunky or too far away from the ceiling. Claire’s has a ton of these so be carful, but their earrings don’t have any censors on them so they’re a great store for beginners. Interact with this post and I’ll add more too this blog♡ . -CLOTHING TIPS- If a clothing store does not have fitting rooms, don’t even try, they’ll immediately catch on+security cameras are your number one snitch. You’re gonna want to pay attention to if store employees suspect you. Ex. Fixing up areas that you’re at or around u, constant asking if you’re finding everything ok, maybe they’ll offer a store basket or bag, asking if you need anything in specific, any constant attention really. If they are leave the store, come back like a week later and try again. Your gonna wanna bring a hook with you to remove ink tags/clothing alarms while in fitting room, keep it down and try to pick a fitting room away from others to avoid suspicion. Some stores have employees stand in empty stalls next to you and listen so be aware and careful. If there are price tags try stuffing them behind the mirror or on in the landings on the floor, they’re sometimes rubber, don’t leave shit on the floor, if they already suspect u, they’ll check the fitting room when you come out. As for the alarms/ink tags, put them in ur pocket and discreetly shove them in another piece of clothing, remember to ALWAYS CHECK POCKETS ON CLOTHING.im abt to max out, look at repost of this from me 4more

ALWAYS CHECK POCKETS/COMPARTMENTS ON CLOTHING. Other lifters could have stuffed clothing alarms or price tags in there, be safe and check before trying to lift. No as where to conceal these clothing items, if you have the baggy hoody, (I suggest wearing a baggy shirt underneath too, always wear that sports bra if u wear bras{binders can also work it’s just hella uncomfy I’ve tried it})put 1-3 tops on under ur baggy T then put ur hoodie back on. Make sure they don’t count items b4 going into changing rooms. If they do, try taking a hoodie on some sort of hanger, taking it off the hanger, putting 1-2 shirts on the hanger, then put the hoodie/zip up back on. Great for lifting, if they confront you say you didn’t know and you were just tossing things in the cart, get out of there fast afterwards. It’s suspicious if you come in with a ton of clothes then don’t buy anything, sometimes you gotta buy some to win some. (Ex. I’m wearing 3 shirts under my og shirt which would add up to about 35 bucks, I buy a cheap tank top for 15, they don’t suspect me and I get freebies)

781 notes · View notes

cacoetheswriting · 1 year

Text

pearl: november & december 1984

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.6k chapter summary: when life throws you an unexpected curveball, the person who's there for you the most is one you wish wasn't — so you get your wish, but only after completely altering your friendship.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, angst, minor character death, loss of a parent, grief and grief management, emotional hurt / comfort, self-doubt / insecurities, use of pet names - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

pearl masterlist

December 1984

Winter was a lot harsher this year compared to last.

Starting as soon as mid-November, it brought with it grey musky clouds, dark days and even darker nights, along with a snow storm worse than The Blizzard of 1888. It was the sort of cold that could freeze the blood of those who did not or could not take sufficient care to be warm.

The season was never your favourite. This year it was even more unbearable and it had nothing to do with the weather — which the news reported was only supposed to get worse.

Early November, while off living your best life at college, you got a call no kid ever wishes to receive.

Your dad had worked as a police officer ever since you were born. Even as a kid, you were smart enough to deduct his job was not of the safe variety. However, he’d reassure you endlessly that Hawkins, Indiana was by far the most boring town in this country and nothing bad would ever happen to him — that’s why you moved here in the first place.

Until it did.

Jim Hopper rang to break the news. You don’t remember exactly what he said, just that there was an incident at Hawkins Lab and unfortunately your dad didn’t make it.

“I am so sorry, kiddo.”

You were calm, collected. At least you pretended to be for the sake of your mom.

You packed a small bag, told your roommate you had a family emergency, and hopped in the car your dad let you keep when he dropped you off back in August. You drove all night in complete and utter silence. Every single part of your body felt numb and your mind was replaying every single conversation you held with the parent you just lost, yet you didn’t cry.

The tears hadn’t come until after the funeral ceremony.

You were washing up some of the dishes after the wake while your mom was being consoled by Karen Wheeler. Entirely too focused on the cool stream of water, you didn’t realise someone stood beside you until they spoke.

“Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s offer broke you. Him being there broke you.

You immediately turned off the tap and wiped your wet hands against the silk material of your black dress before collapsing into his frame, no longer strong. The metalhead wrapped his arms around you instantly and the two of you were completely still as you sobbed into his shirt.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he muttered in a soothing tone, “Let it all out. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

That day was the last time the two of you spoke.

For the remainder of the month, after you had gone back to school, you didn’t call him or send the letters you had been writing.

Ignoring him was one of the hardest things you had ever done 'cause not a day went by where you didn’t think about Eddie Munson and your last moment together, but the thought of losing him like you lost your dad was just too overbearing. You figured if you put some more distance between you two, should the worst happen, it wouldn’t be as painful.

The logic was flawed, you knew that. It was also perhaps the most selfish thing you had ever done since Eddie done nothing wrong.

One could argue however, you did all of this as a result of your grief. Consumed by all of these uncharted feelings around losing your dad and simply weren’t thinking clearly. There was just one problem. Eddie would never believe that. He knew you too well.

Which is why, your whole body was quivering with anticipation as you knocked on the trailer door.

You had prepared an apology speech, rehearsed it all night plus during your drive here. Although, now, as you stood waiting in the snow, you were second guessing everything.

“Forget it,” you mutter to yourself and are about to turn, walk away, when the door swings open.

Eddie gapes at you with his big brown eyes, surprise gracing his features. He sizes you up, wondering why you're here after all this time apart, then proceeds to adjust his posture before stepping to the side. It’s a form of an unspoken invitation you accept with grace, albeit hesitantly. Once inside, you can hear him close the door with a gentle thud. He walks around you and slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” you say eventually, nervously meeting his gaze as you unwrap the scarf from around you neck.

“Hey,” Eddie repeats. No nickname, no emotion.

You swallow your breath. “H-how are you?”

He scoffs. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, although one you definitely deserve.

“Seriously? We don’t talk for over a month and that’s the best you can come up with?” Eddie sounds mad. He is mad.

“Right, sorry,” you reply and momentarily chew on the inside of your cheek. “I-I honestly just wanted to come by and explain myself. If you’d let me, that is.”

The metalhead exhales softly. He lets his shoulder slouch, relax a little, and opens his mouth to say something when a knock on the trailer door interrupts him. He glances at the clock on the wall and his reaction causes you to think it’s a client, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom, giving him a few minutes to conduct his business.

You're certainly not trying to listen to his conversation. In fact, you turn the tap on just so you can focus on the sound of running water instead of his conversation, but the paper thin walls of the trailer make it nearly impossible not to eavesdrop.

“Thanks again for lending this to me,” a preppy voice you don’t really recognise speaks, “You were so right, perfect record for getting high,” the girl chuckles and your stomach twists ‘cause unfortunately it seems you couldn’t have been more wrong about this being some sort of deal.

“No worries, darlin’. Glad I could be of service,” Eddie’s charming. You picture him smiling, most likely towering over the girl who came to see him and your heart aches.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Well, I came by to give you that tape back and see if you’re free this Saturday. My parents are out of town and…” You force yourself to fizzle out the rest of that sentence. You did not want to be thinking about him with someone else right now — or ever.

When a soft slam indicates the girl has most likely left, you re-emerge from the bathroom.

Eddie doesn’t look at you. Not at first anyway. He places the item he just received on one of the kitchen counters and leans his back against another.

As you open your mouth to begin your rehearsed apology, your focus unintentionally darts to the item now next to him. Whoever said curiosity killed the cat was a hundred percent correct because the moment you register what album that girl was referring to, you go stiff.

“What the fuck, Eddie.”

The metalhead is confused by your words. He raises a brow in your direction but realisation only dawns on him when you snatch the tape from the counter and lift it in front of his face. Janis Joplin’s Pearl.

“Why would you give this to some random chick?” You question, hoping he can detect the hurt in the tone of your voice.

But Eddie only shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“You gave it to me. It’s mine now. I figured I could do whatever I wanted with it.”

“That wasn’t the point of me gifting this to you. How dare you pawn it off onto some girl who you most likely just wanna have sex with?!”

That causes him to stand straight and take a step towards you.

“I don’t get why you’re so upset by this. You are the one who iced me out when all I ever did was be there for you. I figured if you could disregard our years of friendship for no apparent reasons and with no communication, I can lend a stupid tape to someone.”

“I had my reasons—”

“Yeah, maybe,” Eddie interrupts, “But you never shared them with me. I called you every fucking day after you went back to college! The list of pathetic excuses your roommate has given me, if she ever bothered to pick up the phone you clearly forgot how to use, is long enough to fill a goddamn novel!”

“That’s literally why I came here this evening! I want to explain and get back to where we were before!”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

Something inside you snaps in that moment.

“My dad died, Eddie!” You shout, tears starting to trail down your cheeks, “God, I am so fucking sorry that his death and how I chose to grieve losing a fucking parent was an inconvenience for you! I am so fucking sorry that your ego was bruised when I didn’t pick up the phone or return your calls while my life was literally falling apart at the seams!”

He’s taken aback by your sudden outburst, mouth half-open as if he doesn’t know what to say next. It made sense that he doesn't. In all the years you've been friends, you have never raised your voice at him. The two of you didn’t argue, ever, because there was never a reason to.

“You have every right to be annoyed with me for icing you out, I’m not trying to take away from that," you continue, slightly calmer, “But handing out a tape that literally means the world to me since it reminds me solely of you, is a fucking stab in the back. Especially knowing now your intention was to hurt me.”

You chuck the cassette at Eddie’s chest. He catches it, not breaking the hold he had on your gaze.

“You may not see it that way and you may even think I’m dramatic or over reacting. That’s fine too. What you don’t get to do however, is give me shit about how I chose to handle my dad’s death because that’s not fair,” you sob that last part, voice breaking.

Eddie’s clutching onto the tape.

There’s an agonising moment of silence. You're not sure how long it lasts. A minute, perhaps, or ten. During that time, your eyes remain locked with Eddie’s and you can feel your heart breaking. You wonder if he feels the same and then you wonder if hoping he did, made you a terrible person.

“So where do we go from here, huh?” Eddie asks, monotone.

Apparently your lack of rebuttal was all Eddie needed, because after another moment of heavy silence, he states: “Perhaps… Perhaps space is exactly what we need.”

Earth shattering, his words.

“That’s the conclusion you’re coming to?” You probe, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your winter coat.

He nods. “We clearly forgot how to be there for one another.”

You realise then that nothing could have prepared you for this. Pushing Eddie out of your life these last few weeks wasn’t going to make losing him any more bearable. If anything, it only hurt more.

Chewing down on the inside of your cheek in a lame attempt to prevent the floodgates opening further, you reach for the inside pocket of your coat and retrieve a small stack of envelopes, tied together with a green bow.

“Here,” you say blankly, devoid of any further emotion, “I meant when I said I came here to explain myself, but if you believe being apart is for the better, I guess I don’t owe you anything.”

He slowly takes the envelopes out of your grasp and you adjust your hold in the process to make sure your fingers don’t brush against his.

“These are all the letters I wrote you while we didn’t speak. Read ‘em, burn ‘em, do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

Your exit is swift. Not like it matters because Eddie doesn’t bother chasing after you.

After starting your car and glancing at his trailer one last time, you drive off completely heartbroken because Eddie was no longer your Bobby McGee. He was not your best friend and apparently you meant nothing to him.

November 1984

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s question remains unanswered for approximately forty three seconds while you try to gather your thoughts. The carpeted floor of your childhood bedroom is oddly comforting, so in a way, right this moment, you're doing relatively okay.

Eddie’s next to you. His hand is on your thigh which he squeezes gently every so often, probably to check if you're awake since your eyes are closed.

After your breakdown in the kitchen, Eddie practically carried you upstairs, away from the pitiful looks of everyone gathered in the living room. He carefully sat you down on the floor, just under the window, and opened it with ease. Who knew? Fresh air was all you apparently needed.

But how were you really doing? Not good, would be the simple option. Not good, would tell him all he needed to know and it would also be the honest answer ‘cause how else are you supposed to be doing hours after burying your dad.

“Better,” you lie.

He stiffens next to you, meaning he didn’t exactly believe you.

“Sweetheart—”

“Why are you calling me that?” You ask, finally opening your eyes and immediately turning your head to look at him.

Judging by the expression on his face, he’s taken aback by the sudden change in topic. He doesn’t say that though.

“It’s just a nickname.”

“No, it’s not," you protest, almost in a scoff. “That’s not what you usually call me, so why do you keep calling me that?”

Eddie frowns. “Seriously, sweetheart, don’t read too much into it. It’s really just a nickname.”

Unsure of why you're so on edge and why his new pet name has irritated you so much, you stand. Even with the open window, the room suddenly felt really stuffy. You place your hands on your hips, only to cross them across your chest, then quickly uncross them again.

“That’s not what— It sounds like you’re taking pity on me. Like you think I’m weak and you need to baby me or some shit.”

Eddie’s now up on his feet too. He towers over you, one hand on your shoulder while the other cups your face, and for a split-second, you're a little calmer.

“You’re overreacting.”

You were a little calmer. Eddie’s attempt at dissolving the situation only made you feel worse and so you free yourself from his grasp and take a step back.

“Prove it.”

His brows string together. “What?”

“Prove it,” you repeat. “Kiss me.”

The silence is overbearing. You knew the request was idiotic, yet it’s like your mouth had a mind of its own and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled like coffee. Worst part was, you didn’t even feel bad for putting him in this awkward position.

“I-I… I'm not going to do that.” Eddie says eventually. “It’s been a really emotional day, an emotional week, and you’re in your head, which is understandable, so let’s just—”

“Don’t tell me how emotional it’s been, Eddie. I know how emotional it’s been,” you practically snap at him, frustration levels rising. “Downstairs, there is a room full of people acting differently towards me because of what happened. I-I can’t have you being one of ‘em, Eddie. I need you to treat me like you’ve always treated me.”

“And I am.”

He reaches out for you, but you pull back from his plea.

“No, you’re not.”

That must’ve been the breaking point for the metalhead because right in front of your eyes, his demeanour changes completely. As does his tone of voice.

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me ‘cause it’ll make you feel better or what’s the deal here? ‘Cause what I’m failing to understand is how is asking me to kiss you going to prove that I’m treatin’ you any different? We don’t— That’s not what we— Fuck!”

He sighs and runs a hand through his messy locks in frustration. That’s when you see it. A certain melancholy behind his chocolate-like gaze that you've only ever witnessed on a few rare occasions.

In retrospect, you should’ve stopped then. You should’ve said sorry and put this entire conversation to bed. You should’ve instead asked him to join you on the rooftop for a smoke or asked him to take a nap in your bed. You should’ve said literally anything else other than what you said next.

“So you don’t want to kiss me?”

Eddie clenches his jaw. Suddenly you feel like you're suffocating. The entire room is spinning, only Eddie is still and staring right through you. His soft expression hardened, almost displaying betrayal.

“Not like this.”

His voice is a mere whisper and for a brief moment you're not sure you even hear him correctly. You open your mouth, but no words come out. You're frozen. Dumbfounded.

The metalhead clears his throat. “I-I should go,” is all he says before walking out of the room and you force yourself to shake awake, hurrying after him.

“If not like this, then how?” You ask, but he ignores you, approaching the stairs. “Eddie, please.”

He stops. Eyes closing momentarily at the soft plea which just escaped your lips. He chewing on the inside of his cheek, debating what to do next 'cause either way, your relationship will never be the same.

“If not like this, then how?” You ask again, only softer, while closing the gap between you.

Eddie looks at you then. He scans every inch of your face as your hands hesitantly settle on his chest. He's sure you can feel his heart hammering, just as he can feel the unsteady beating of yours. And so he thinks how much he loves you and how he wanted to tell you that anyway in a few short weeks.

“Fuck it,” he mutters and dips his head lower, his lips crashing against yours in a yearning kiss.

He tastes like cigarettes and the mints he indulges in to try and cover up the tar on his breath — intoxicating. His hands cup your face, firmly pulling you in closer with every passing second, as his body pushes into yours, causing you to stumble backwards until you hit a random wall.

The kiss is fuelled by pent up tension, a desire you both shared but didn't want to admit in fear of ruining the best friendship you've ever had. It's a dance of fire and ice. Both of you are aching for even more, yet wanting nothing more at the same time. However, since that line was now crossed and there's no going back, Eddie gets braver and bites down your bottom lip and as you gasp against his mouth, he slides his tongue in with ease.

You feel elated as his tongue explores your mouth, hands squishing your face while your fingers tug at his shirt. The kiss is perfect. This moment is. He's perfect.

But then you think how you landed in this situation and a ping of guilt rushes through you. Shit.

Your fingers splay flat across his chest and you open your eyes, suddenly pushing him away. Eddie feels the pressure and breaks the kiss, pulling his head back slightly, gaze dropping from your eyes to where your hands are then back to your eyes.

You look panicked and his heart sinks.

He drops his hold on you and takes a step back. He opens his mouth to say that this is what you wanted but if he crossed a line than he's sorry, unfortunately he just doesn't get the chance. In the blink of an eye, you disappear back into your room, slamming the door shut.

December 1984

The sound of the car engine starting makes Eddie flinch.

He's holding onto the unopened letters completely speechless and his heart is aching because all he has ever wanted was to make you happy, yet instead he hurt you.

Deeply.

All because his feelings were hurt; thinking back to the kiss you shared.

A kiss that should have been heaven, and instead ended like hell. The feeling of your lips against his invades Eddie’s thoughts at the best and worst of times. And the image of you disappearing into your room without a word… that haunts his nightmares.

But at the end of the day, his love for you is ever present. If not stronger. Just because you pulled him in, then pushed him away twice as fast, that didn’t change how he feels.

He unfortunately had to be a prick about it. ‘Cause he has no self control, no self respect, and hurt people, hurt people.

So he debates running after you, following you home so the two of you could maybe finish this conversation on a better note. Yet, something within him is holding him back.

Your words, "I don't give a shit anymore", are ringing in his ears and the letters are heavy in his grasp. He glances down at them and chews on the inside of his cheek, shuffling through the stack as he wanders towards the couch to sit.

He’s not really sure what he’s expecting to find out. What he reads though, is deeply personal and the further down the stack he gets, the guiltier he feels.

With the letters still in his grasp, Eddie is back on his feet in a flash. He doesn't bother throwing on a jacket, in his mind there is no time 'cause you love him just as much as he loves you and he fucked it up.

He hastily reaches for the keys to his van and the scarf you left behind. Unfortunately, the stupid piece of shit car doesn't start and the rational part of Eddie's brain knows it's the icy conditions, the engine block probably froze over, however he also can't help but feel this is karma.

Jesus Christ, he runs a hand down his face and exhales. He is such a fucking idiot.

pearl masterlist | main masterlist

thank you for reading <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson best friend #bestfriend!eddie #pearl (eddies version)

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stvckwithaphobia · 1 year

Text

— PUNISHMENT [bang chan] 💵

content/warning. bang chan x female reader — securityguard!chan + shoplifter!reader — smut/pwp — dom/sub dynamics — rough sex — unprotected penetrative sex (don’t do this) — implied oral (m receiving) — sir kink — reader gets called slut, babygirl, good girl

word count. 1.0k

note. this is a reupload of my own post published on 22/10/02 on this blog — thank you so much for 100 followers and the generous feedback on my last post?? would have never expected it to gain so much success — I hope you will enjoy this one in case you come across this :)

important. minors do not interact, this is 18+ content — none of the characters are supposed to imitate real people, any coincidences with names and places are just for the sake of fiction — if you enjoy this content pls consider leaving a comment or reblogging this!

—

It’s all wrong. All a big fucking stupid idea and you know it. Still, you can’t help it. Almost magically, the pair of glimmery shining earrings land inside your purse. You make sure no one notices.

But you don’t make sure of it enough.

Getting behind the barrier of the exit of the store is one thing—you’ve managed that part just fine.

Whereas leaving without the security guard witnessing the guilt hiding in your face is another level of obscurity.

“Ms, could I have a look inside your purse please?”

His voice startles you, quite loud but also not loud enough for the other customers to notice.

“W-Why do you need to do that?”

He takes two steps towards you, looking right into your face and getting aware of the anxiety plastered all over it. The name on his uniform reads ‘Christopher Bang’.

“Ms, I’ve seen you put some jewelry inside your bag. You can either open the purse now or follow me to the back room and we’ll discuss it there until the police officer arrives.”

You gulp. The big lump of saliva that has built up in your throat slides down—with the last piece of hope. But you won’t give up. You can’t. You’re deeply fucked. This is a whole shitshow and you’re the protagonist.

“No,” you simply say.

“Preferring the hard way? Alright, then please follow me.”

What are your options anyway? You’ve decided to choose the less embarrassing one, after all he would have caught you anyway. You're guilty. You're guilty and he knows it. You know it, too. A fucking bad job in hiding it is what you’re doing.

Only a small desk lamp enlightens the cramped room, a table is placed in the middle with a folding chair in front of it. Your breath hitches once you realise he’s standing right behind you, carefully tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. So it’s easier to whisper to you.

“I’ll give you an option here. Like a chance of redemption if you wanna call it that.”

You swallow again. His heavy breathing is drowned out by your heartbeat pulsating up into your ears. It’s deafening.

“W-What is that?”

The security guard’s big hand lands on your front upper thigh. Roughly he squeezes the flesh through the thick material of your jeans but you don’t deny any of his actions—it’s rather the opposite. The anticipation is killing you and you’re striving for more.

“You can seek your punishment here, with me, and I’ll forget about what you did earlier.”

The idea shoots a tingling sensation straight down to your core. You’re helpless. You’re defeated. But you’re eager for what’s yet to come.

“Okay.”

Chris is surprised about you agreeing so quickly but he doesn’t mind at all. His hot breath still lingers on your skin, goosebumps erupt all over it.

“We’re gonna establish some rules beforehand. First of all, watch your manners and the way you address me.”

Whilst the words echo into your ears and you need some time to realise what he’s saying, Chris is already busy fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. He opens them one by one so the cold air can slowly hit your hot skin underneath.

“Okay, sir.”

The black fabric lands on the floor, pooling on the ground all pathetically just like the remaining bits of your pride. With one swift motion he gets rid of your bralette, as it’s being thrown down as well. Your tits now on full display he grabs them roughly, pinching the sensitive bud between two of his fingers.

“You’re a quick learner, I see. Good girl.” He spins you around, all suddenly, so he’s able to place you on top of the cold metal table. Then he gets closer until his lips brush your ear again. “If you want me to stop anytime, just say the word ‘red‘.”

You quickly nod, holding your breath before you reply all quietly, “Yes, sir.”

And that’s how you find yourself—merely a few moments later—being pushed onto the cold table, face first meeting the wooden material. Your makeup is smudged and ruined by now but your looks are the last thing you care about.

Chris is the master of his element, the way he’s thrusting his big cock in and out your tight walls drives you to oblivion. His movements are sharp but steady, his hands grab your hip and neck to keep you in place just like he enjoys.

“Naughty slut deserves to be punished for doing something so wrong,” he whispers into your ear once he lowers his weight onto you.

“You shouldn’t have let me catch you, baby, that’s what you get for it.”

You arch your back and want to answer. But with the way he brushes that certain spot inside you, the realization hits you—you’re not capable of taking any control and you don’t want to.

“Say it, babygirl, confess about what you did and I’ll let you cum, hm? How does that sound? I know you’re close, no need to try to fool me.”

Slap. His hand collides with your ass—one of Chris’s attempts to bring you back to the present again.

“Okay—yes, sir, I did s-steal those earrings. I am d-deeply s-sorry. Please, I’ll do w-whatever you want—just l-let me cum already,” you stutter as your eyes meet the back of your head in satisfaction.

“Then go on, be a good girl and show me that you’re able to follow my rules.”

So you do. Your vision gets blinded by overwhelmness and glittery stars as you come undone, creaming all over his cock. Chris lets you ride out your high whilst your cunt keeps clenching around him, almost triggering his own climax.

Once he’s made sure you’ve somehow calmed down a bit, he pulls out of you—mixtures of your liquids and his precum splashing onto the floor and slowly running down your inner thighs.

“You said you’ll do anything, hm? Then go on your knees for me, slut. Be a good girl and suck me off.”

—

🖇 taglist — @gibbysupremeacyisreal

#bang chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x you #bang chan hard thoughts

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jackhues · 1 year

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the devil and the runaway! au - prologue

note: prologue's here, finally! hope you guys like it! remember to like, rb <3 (also my tags aren't working for some reason, so pls rb if you see this!!)

the devil and the runaway! au - navigation

add or remove yourself from my mafia! au taglist

I should’ve left Monaco when I had the chance.

You should’ve packed your bags months ago and fled to another country — Hell, you should’ve fled across the world. Somewhere in South America perhaps. You knew enough languages to live comfortably in quite a few of the countries, didn’t you? Nico would be a little upset, but he would adjust quickly.

I should’ve left Monaco, you thought again, your eyes on the large figure falling to his knees, then the ground.

“Nice shot,” a raspy voice near your feet spoke.

Your hands shook violently, but you still weren’t able to let go of the gun.

“I don’t even know how to shoot this thing,” your voice was shakier than your hands.

“Yeah, well, I’d say you did alright,” Charles Leclerc, the Devil himself, spoke, propping himself up slightly to see who you’d just shot. He looked back up at you, “Darling, I’m gonna need you to call someone for me.”

“The police?”

Charles barked out a laugh, before abruptly hissing and grabbing his abdomen. “That’s funny, but I can’t laugh because it hurts. No, you’re calling someone else.” He gave you a pointed look, “Someone who can help a little more than the police in this situation.”

“I left my phone inside,” you whispered, your fingers still gripping the gun.

“You wouldn’t be able to call with that anyways,” Leclerc continued, sucking a breath through his teeth and laying back on the gravel sidewalk.

The moon lit up your dusty street, just enough for you to make out the dark outline of liquid pooling beneath him.

“You were shot,” you muttered, staring at the blood. There was a lot of it.

“Yes, that’s why I ended up collapsing and dropping my gun in your hands,” he said, as if this interaction were an everyday occurrence. For him, it might’ve been. “Now, if you could just reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and call someone for me.”

“One of… one of your people?” you asked, still rooted at your spot.

Despite the bloodloss, you could see Charles Leclerc roll his eyes. “Yes, one of my people, as you so eloquently put it. Now, if you could snap out of whatever trance you’re in, I would appreciate it. You shot someone, maybe he’s dead, maybe he’s not. No one knows. But I’m not dead yet, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. So you can either call one of my people or keep pressure on the wound while I call.”

You blinked, part of you surprised that he’d managed to get that many words out despite the fact that he lost more blood than he should’ve.

“I’ll call,” you decided, going through his pocket and grabbing his phone. The gun remained glued to your other hand.

“The password is five-four-six-two,” he grunted, doing his best to stay awake. He misread the look on your face, “I change it multiple times a day, you won’t be getting anything from knowing that.”

Despite the situation, you rolled your eyes, unlocking the phone.

“Go to contacts, call Lorenzo,” he grunted, his breathing coming heavier now. “Make sure you say blue ribbon the second he picks up.”

“Why?” you asked on instinct, searching up the name.

Charles decided to indulge you this once, “Because otherwise, you’ll have a whole lot of my people coming in, looking for a fight.”

You gulped, turning away from those blue-green eyes, and clicked the contact Lorenzo. There was no picture, no extra information to tell you who the hell you were going to be calling.

“Is this it?” you asked, turning the screen so Charles could see.

“Yeah, call him,” he told you. “And make sure you say—”

“—Blue ribbon,” you said the second someone picked up.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, “Who is this?”

“Charles Leclerc has been shot,” you ignored the question. “He’s out here on the street, bleeding, and he told me to call you.”

You heard frantic shuffling on the other end of the line, someone barking out orders, a car starting.

“Tell me everything.”

You told Lorenzo what had happened that night: you stepped out of your cafe/home to throw out the garbage, a figure practically ran into you while you were locking the door. Stumbling, he’d put a gun in your hands, before collapsing to the ground. Another figure followed closely behind, holding a gun in the air, aiming in your and Charles’ direction. Instinct took over, and you held the gun in the man’s direction, pressing the trigger. The man fell over, and hadn’t moved since then.

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” you told Lorenzo, eyeing the pool of blood beneath Charles. It was getting a lot larger than you’d like.

“We’ll take care of it,” Lorenzo promised.

As if on cue, a silver Mercedes pulled up in front of you, the passenger door opening before the car even stopped.

You watched the olive skinned man step out, phone pressed to his ear. He gave you a quick glance, nodding, before pocketing the phone.

The disconnect tone blared in your ear from Charles' phone.

Lorenzo Leclerc, the oldest of the three Leclerc brothers. Even though he was the oldest of the Brotherband, rumour was that he was too soft to lead. He never missed any of his shots, but he never raised a gun unless he was protecting his family. The role of the Devil was passed on to Charles by Lorenzo himself.

You stood awkwardly as Lorenzo knelt next to Charles, whispering in rapid French.

Even if you’d been in Monaco for nearly three years now, you didn’t speak French well enough to understand half of what they were saying.

You diverted your attention as the driver side door opened, depositing a dark skinned man in braids. You barely had time to register his profile before he raised a gun towards you, still walking closer.

“What the hell?” you shouted, your hands raised as you moved backwards.

“What’s your name?” The man said, still making his way towards you.

“Y/N Meadows,” you answered, eager to get the gun aimed away from you.

The man hesitated for a second, but continued forward.

“Dude, what the hell!”

“Drop the gun,” the man said, his own still pointed at you.

You looked at the gun in your hand, forgetting you were holding it. You placed it on the ground, your hands once again raised. Your fingers missed the feeling of being wrapped around it already.

The man took another step forward, and you took another step backwards. The door to your shop dug into your back, telling you there was no place to go.

The dark skinned man kept moving forward, taking his time as if he enjoyed seeing you look for an escape. The key was still in the lock, but even if you managed to get inside, there was nowhere to go. The Ferras would catch you if they wanted you, and the Brotherband that leads them… well you hoped Charles wouldn’t end you.

Your eyes shut on instinct once the barrel of the gun was pressed to your forehead. One shot, straight in the center, and you’d be dead.

“Lewis,” Charles muttered from his spot on the floor. “Leave her alone, she shot the man who shot me.”

Lorenzo was on the phone again, still kneeling next to the injured Charles. You weren’t sure how much he saw or heard, but you were more than glad he intervened.

‘Lewis’ gave you a once over, speaking over his shoulder to Charles in an English accent. “You sure it was her? You’re not delirious or anything, are you?”

“I’m fine,” Charles responded, flipping him off. “Go call Arthur and tell him to stop freaking out. After that, make sure you take care of the body down the street. The one she shot.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Lewis muttered, pocketing his gun.

You remained tense as Lewis moved back into the car, pulling out his phone and calling ‘Arthur’.

Arthur Leclerc, The third and youngest of the Brotherband. He was still a Prema boy, one who’d come by your cat cafe quite a few times. Whiskers, who was notably the most hostile cat, seemed to enjoy Arthur’s company. You never knew what to think of the youngest, so you tried not to think of him at all.

“He’s lost too much blood,” Lorenzo said, addressing you for the first time ever. “We need to bring our medic here. Is there a couch or something in there we can use?”

You looked back at your cafe doors, realizing for a second how little these boys knew you. Granted, you knew little about them too. You knew you shouldn’t invite them, especially not while Nico was sleeping.

Despite every instinct telling you to turn them away, you knew Lorenzo had a gun on him. Considering it was his brother’s life on the line, he could always shoot you, then go in anyways. Asking was his way of extending an olive branch in your direction.

Who’d watch Nico then?

“I’ve got a second room and bed if you’re willing to carry him up a couple stairs,” you offered. “The room’s soundproofed, and you’re less likely to wake the cats.”

“Lead the way,” he motioned, slinging his younger brother over his shoulders.

Charles groaned, adjusting himself over Lorenzo’s shoulders. You watched the pool of blood, looking away as you realized it was much bigger than you thought.

“Someone will clean it up,” Lorenzo told you, catching the way you looked at the blood.

You nodded, unlocking the cafe door, and leading two of the Leclercs to the guest bedroom. You opened the door, moving aside to let Lorenzo deposit his younger brother on the bed.

“You should probably put a sign out,” Lorenzo told you. “The cafe’s opening late tomorrow. In the afternoon. We’ll be gone by then.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to argue. Running a business was hard, especially when you had two mouths to feed… but opposing the oldest Leclerc could mean death. Just because Lorenzo didn’t shoot, doesn’t mean he has a problem against sending someone else in his stead.

You settled on a nod, stepping out of the room and writing out a note to stick on the door of the cafe. You texted your baristas, letting them know as well. Although, it was the middle of the night, and you were pretty sure quite a few of them would be upset with you in the morning.

With a sigh, you looked out the cafe doors, noticing that the pool of Charles Leclerc’s blood was gone. As was the garbage bag you were supposed to throw out. You didn’t know how they did it, and you didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to be associated with the Ferras, or the Brotherband — or any other gang for that matter.

A little too late for that now, you supposed.

Shaking your head to yourself, you climbed back upstairs, past the guest bedroom. After the events of the night, you just wanted to curl up into bed next to your son, hold him close and assure yourself you’d be fine. Maybe you could move to Argentina, or even Brazil.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop on the boys as you walked past the guest bedroom, but the door was open, and they were arguing a little too loudly.

“He’s gone, though,” you recognized Lewis’ English accent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but he’s gone.”

“Charles, are you sure there was someone?” Lorenzo asked, his tone making it sound like they were well into the argument. “Like there was someone there and you know he fell to the ground?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Charles’ voice was steely. “She shot him, and he dropped. I’m pretty sure he was dead.”

“I didn’t see anybody,” Lewis said. “I was in the car, talking to Arthur the whole time. If someone came in and moved the body, we’d know.”

You held your breath, along with everyone else in that room.

It was the Devil who spoke, “How the hell does a man just disappear like that?”

#the devil and the runaway! au #naqia's au's!#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fics #charles leclerc mafia #mafia!f1 #mafia!charles leclerc #charles leclerc mafia au #mafia!au #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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smut-angel · 2 years

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how do you want it?

summary: in which frank returns home from a mission

18+ only

warnings: f/m sex, cursing, mention of a break-in, rough sex, unprotected sex, thigh riding, slight mutual masturbation, slight breeding kink, slight cockwarming

a/n: this is a request submitted by @9daykrisr hope you enjoy! (also this is my first real official smut post so pls be nice i know it’s not great lol) reblogs are appreciated :)

tags: @honeychicana

frank knew he shouldn’t have left that night. the unsettling feeling he got in the pit of his stomach had told him so. having done being the punisher for almost 2 years now, he was able to curb his cravings for researching enemies and fleeing in the middle of the night to halt some criminal rendezvous. now, he was happy with you, in the cabin in the woods, away from the city and its harsh lights, loud noise and non-stop crime. but like a moth to a flame, frank was back in the streets of new york city with a job to finish.

“it’s only for the weekend,” he told you, cupping your cheeks in his large calloused hands. your plush lips went into a pout which made frank slightly flush with pink. “it’s only friday, i’ll be back before you can blink, sweetheart.”

“you don’t have to go, frank.” your once soft eyes turned serious, making frank blink in thought.

“this case is important. they don’t have anyone else,” was all he managed to say, hardly convincing you or himself. your eyes rolled at the cryptic “they” frank had spoke of since the day he officially told you that he was the punisher all along. you didn’t ask questions though, never. only followed the directions he would explain carefully that would keep you alive. but that’s what you liked about your new life with frank. no more late nights waiting for him to stumble through your apartment door, bloodied, in an exhausted haze. no more bandaging his flesh-deep wounds and treating his scars. no more ferocious nightmares of his past that would haunt him at night. no more anxious phone calls asking if the other was alive or not. now, life was calm, slow, perfect.

“hey,” he called, squeezing your cheeks gently, then freeing them. “i’ll be back, and after this, no more punisher. i promise.”

by late saturday night, the job was done. frank slowly entered the tiny apartment that was provided for him, peeling off his bloody shirt that had slightly soaked through and stained his skin. soon enough, his burner phone would begin to ring in his pocket, inciting a sigh from his mouth. the display of the dated phone read a number he didn’t think he’d see ever again, your number to your own burner phone.

“don’t ever call me when i’m away, it's too dangerous. if you absolutely need me, call me from this phone, alright?” he had told you 3 years ago.

“hello? baby? what’s wrong?”

“hi, frankie,” you cooed, yet your voice cracked slightly.

“y/n, what’s going on?”

“please don’t panic, frankie,” you stated, in your best attempt to sound calm, yet it seemed your voice was worn out as if you had been crying for hours. “there was a break-in. someone trying to rob the place-” you began to explain.

“where are you now? are you safe? when was this?” you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, frustrated with frank’s interrogation.

“frankie, please calm down. it happened last night. the police helped and they found the guy- just some idiot. the neighbors have been checking on me… i’m not hurt or anything, i just- i needed to hear your voice. i know i’m not supposed to call you when you're away, but you haven’t been gone for so long and i got scared… i want you to come home.” as your rambles went on, your voice, which you had forced to sound resilient, began to grow smaller, almost inaudible. frank was silent over the other end which worried you.

“i know you’re coming home tomorrow morning but.. is there not a sooner flight you can take?” you began again.

“i’m on my way right now, darlin.’ you hang tight.”

you had hardly slept as you awaited your husband’s arrival. you awoke from a not-so deep sleep at the slightest sound of a vehicle driving along the road from afar. as the car drew near, the anxiety you felt soon turned into comfort as the familiar hum of frank’s truck sounded. you checked the time displayed on the wall: 5:34am.

soon, frank was barging through the door, greeted by you in your silk tank top and shorts and wrapped in a thick blanket on the couch, knees to your chest. frank nearly ran to you, cupping your face and bringing your lips to his own. soon, he was kneeling on the floor in front of you, refusing to break the kiss as his tongue softly teases your bottom lip. you immediately open your mouth, frank’s tongue slipping inside making you both groan in pleasure.

“i’ve missed you… so … much,” you say in between kisses. your lips form into a smile and you let out a small laugh as frank can’t keep his mouth to himself.

“are you okay?” he asks, scanning your body and face. you couldn’t help but to let your hands roam frank’s body, from his curly hair, to his coarse beard to his tense yet strong shoulders. you missed the way he smelled, the way his skin felt on her fingertips, the way his voice would echo in a room.

“i’m fine, frank. i don’t wanna talk about it, i just want you,” you say slowly, your eyes boring into his with such lust that frank has never seen before, making his eyebrows twitch with intrigue. frank leaves another chaste kiss on your lips, then your cheek, then your jaw. the blanket falls beyond your shoulders, making your skin prick with goosebumps at the cool air, making you even more sensitive.

“you want me?” he teases while his fingertips softly trails your waist leading shivers down your spine. you could nearly moan at the nearly vacant caresses frank leaves across your now tingling body. you clench your thighs at the warm wetness that begins to grow between them.

“i want you so badly, frank,” you whisper. chuckling at the desperation in your voice, frank moves on top of you, your back on the couch, his chain necklace dangling in your face. like second nature, your hips buck upwards to try and catch any sort of friction on your now throbbing clit.

“so desperate for me, huh?” frank asks, noticing the way your body squirmed. he pushes his knee closer to your center, gripping your hair the way he knows you like it. your back arches in an instant as you begin to grind yourself on his leg. “go ahead, make yourself cum. show me how much you want me, kitten” he demands.

you gladly follow his directions, humping his muscled thigh like a bitch in heat. your mind seems to leave you in this state. so overwhelmed with the break-in and your longing for frank’s return formed into a ravenous lust that was new to you. at night when you were thinking about his warm body holding yours, it soon turned into the thought of him fucking you relentlessly.

with throaty moans leaving your mouth, you feel that your high is closer than ever, and frank can sense it too. “please, frank!” thighs twitching, frank coaxes your orgasm even more by pinching your erect, sensitive nipples through the thin satin fabric. “so close already? we’ve hardly started,” he mocks.

“c’mon baby, give it to me.” with another tug of your hair you unravel before him, your pajama shorts now sticky with your own cum. you rush to pull them off, not wanting to wait any longer for frank to actually touch you this time.

“frank, i want you. i want you inside me, please,” you beg, beginning to stroke your own clit as you crave another orgasm. normally you loved the teasing and waiting game of foreplay, but you were on the verge of a tantrum if you had to wait another second without his cock inside of you.

“how?” frank asked. the question almost brings you out of your bliss.

“what?”

“how? tell me how you want it, kitten.” frank starts to undress himself, swiftly taking off his shirt and pulling down his jeans to stroke himself while watching you rub your swollen clit. he adored seeing you so delirious from him barely touching you. just imagining how cock-drunk you were about to be made his dick twitch.

“i-i want it rough, frankie,” you finally manage to say, your own fingertips circling your entrance as if to hypnotize him. without hesitation, frank grabs your hips and pulls your naked pussy towards him, harshly slapping his cock on your bud.

a pornographic moan escapes you and you’re nearly sobbing at the emptiness he’s teasing you with. before you could beg for his cock once more, he delivers, ramming himself inside of you. your eyes roll back in bliss as frank pounds into you with no remorse. the burning sensation of his fingers digging into the skin on your hips drives you wild as the tip of his cock hits your sweet spot with every stroke. the familiar twinge of an orgasm begins to stir in your abdomen far too quickly.

your walls start to constrict and trap his cock making frank groan at the feeling. “milking me so good, baby. you’re close aren't ‘cha?” to your dismay, frank pulls out, his heavy cock glistening in your juices.

“why-”

“shut up. turn over,” he growls. you comply, now on your stomach. he grabs your hips again, hiking your ass in the air, pressing your face to the couch. he's inside of you again, trying his hardest to not bottom out as your moans grow louder and words become even more slurred and incoherent. he loves fucking you dumb.

squelching noises fill the room mixed with the sounds of skin slapping skin. the living room air is thick with the scent of sweat and sex. it’s filthy, but you can’t get enough of it.

you reach for frank in order to get some sort of leverage but instead he grabs your arm and pins it to the small of your back. the slight sting of pain you feel in your arm makes your pussy even more wet. “don’t fuckin’ move,” he demands. “take it.” frank grips and spanks your ass with his free hand, loving the way your soft skin feels and the way it bounces against his hips.

“fuck me! yes!” you squeal. tears threaten your eyes at the overwhelming pressure from frank’s thick cock. “frankie, i’m so fucking close!” hearing you scream for him makes his strokes become sloppy as frank is closing in on his own climax.

“fuck, princess!”

“cum inside me… wanna feel you cum inside me,” you drool. this was all frank needed to hear to finally send him over the edge. his cock stuttered inside of you, perfectly hitting your g-spot again. your vision turns black, splotches of color unevenly appearing as your orgasm takes over your mind and body. the warmth from your core spreads throughout your body making you feel as though you’re about to burst. gripping the couch with the last of your strength you whimper frank’s name along with profanities over and over, legs twitching and close to giving out.

“you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” frank grunts before coating your plush walls with his seed. he begins to ride out the orgasm you both shared, mumbling incoherent praises about how wet and soft your pussy is.

finally, frank pulls you backwards, forcing you to be seated on his lap while he’s still deep inside of your walls. in this position he grabs your neck, trailing wet kisses from your shoulder to your chin. you’re still a moaning and drooling mess, though both of your releases had subsided, being seated on his cock and filled to the brim with his cum made you needy all over again.

“baby’s still so needy f’me, huh?” frank comments. “gone for two days and you’re melting for me.”

“never leave me again,” you moan. “never leave.”

#frank castle smut #frank castle #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal #the punisher #the punisher smut #jon bernthal x reader #frank castle x you

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naomis-daydream · 1 year

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ex-factor // modern au!officer!izogie

summary: exes who can’t let each other go, based on ‘ex-factor’ by lauryn hill. izogie gets hurt and calls the one person she needs to feel better, but also the same person she should stay away from.

warnings: mentions of injuries (blood, cuts, changing bandages), past relationship, suggestive language.

a/n: i have been neglecting my girl, so i present a treat for u. this is my first angst so lower them expectations pls… those who were asking for izogie content here u go, show her love <3

✧

it could all be so simple, but you’d rather make it hard. loving you is like a battle, and we both end up with scars. tell me who i have to be to get some reciprocity. cause no one loves you more than me, and no one ever will.

she shouldn’t have called you, she knew that. she should’ve left you alone, let you move on. though, a part of her hoped you’d answer. that you’d sigh, complain about the hour or nature of the call before inevitably caving, but you didn’t. you didn’t do your usual game of answering on the last ring just to keep her on her toes. you didn’t let it go to voicemail before sending a text saying you were too busy or too tired, but not enough to ignore her. you didn’t do anything, and that surprised izogie, maybe even hurt her, but it didn’t stop her.

it didn’t stop her from ignoring the alarms in her head telling her to turn around. it didn’t stop her from pushing the lift button and knocking weakly on door. and it certainly didn’t stop the small smile that crept up her lips as the barrier opened to reveal you.

your tired expression dropped slightly, being replaced by one caused annoyance rather than interrupted slumber. your cardigan fell off one shoulder as you rubbed your eyes while sighing. “what are you doing here, izogie?”

she looked down at you, forearm pressed against the doorframe while the other clutched her abdomen. “when you say my name like that, it almost makes me think you don’t wanna see me,” she laughs gently, immediately groaning lowly after.

this draws you to look down to her midriff, seeing her applying pressure to the area that was an increasingly growing deep red stain on her gray Police Academy shirt. your eyes widen quickly as you open the door entirely to guide her her in, locking it behind you as she leans against the island. “what happened?” you ask hurriedly, walking briskly to grab your emergency kit.

she smacks her teeth, shaking her head. “you worry too much.”

“yeah? you show up battered and broken in the middle of the night too much, so i think i’m well within reason.”

you crouch down, avoiding her eyes watching you as you took out supplies. she stays silent for a moment, unsure if she should attempt to make conversation. it’s been longer than usual since the two of you have spoken, much less been in such close proximity.

“it’s just a graze.” she says finally.

you look up, soaking a wash cloth with water as she continues. “the bullet. it only grazed my skin, didn’t puncture enough to go through.”

“but enough to cause so much bleeding,” you say, reaching to clean the blood from her stomach as she instinctively held up a side of her shirt.

this wasn’t her first time coming here, maybe not her last. the two of you did the whole will they, won’t they dance for nearly two years during your friendship. the tension between you was palpable, and it didn’t help that you got along so well too.

she got all parts of you—the late nights, early mornings, and countless hangouts in between. stolen kisses on hands and foreheads, hugs that lasted a bit too long to be platonic, and roaming hands when one thinks no one else is looking. she would tease and flirt shamelessly, often leaving you with a racing heart and an ache between your thighs.

until one day she didn’t. one day she went all the way. it was heavenly, her giving you so many parts of her. only it was never all of her, and you were okay with that—with waiting. relationships take time, which you understood, but after a year of being together, she still wasn’t ready. she wasn’t ready to introduce you to family, tell you more about her life before moving from her home country, talk about moving in together. she also wasn’t ready to tell you why she was so hesitant, so stubborn with you, hellbent on locking you out.

so, you had to let her go.

“why didn’t you go to the hospital?” you ask, breaking the deafening silence that filled the room. “they could help you a lot more than i can,” you say, gaze glued to your hands applying disinfectant to your wound.

“i’m sure they could, but you’ve always had better bedside service,” she replies, wincing shortly when you press into her stomach. you raise a brow in warning, continuing to clean her injuries.

there was a reason you hadn’t answered her calls, hadn’t replied to her texts. you broke up over four months ago, yet every time she called, you came, and if you didn’t, she’d come to you. the cycle was unhealthy, you knew that, but so is the insatiable drug they call love.

izogie knew that you’d come too, because that’s what you do for those you love. a part of her felt bad for preying upon a vulnerable piece of your heart, the piece that’d she carved herself into, but the other craved being around you, because only you could make her feel better. though lately, you’d been pulling away. the leftover love you held for her was fading, because in your heart you both knew that she wouldn’t change, and that this cycle would repeat until one of you let go.

you finished disinfecting the wound, applying anti-inflammatory healing ointment before wrapping gauze around her torso. once you finished, you looked up at her, finding her eyes already on you. her mouth parted to allow her tongue to wipe over he bottom lip.

“this position is awfully familiar, no?”

you blinked up at her before rubbing your hands over your thighs as you stood. looking around you wrapped your cardigan around yourself. “well, you’re all patched up, so…i don’t see any reason for you to stay.”

“not one?” she asks, head turning as you washed your hands beside her.

you kept your eyes on the suds forming on your hands. “not a good one.” you clarify.

she hums quietly as you dry your hands, turning to face the island as you put away the kit. “you don’t worry about me anymore.” she states instead the usual question. “what if i need assistance changing my bandages?”

“then you go to the hospital, izogie. not show up at my place well after midnight expecting me to fix you.” your reply comes out tired, and you are, so you’re finally letting her know.

“yet you always do, don’t you?” her words come out more bitter than she intends. you shut the closet door, turning to her.

“maybe that’s the problem.”

her face softens, brows that were previously knit relaxing in your presence. you exhale, trying to find the words that have been struggling to come to light for weeks.

“i can’t do this anymore,” you say, motioning between the two of you. “this back and forth, running ‘round in circles thing with you. i did when we were friends, i did it when we were together, but i can’t do it now.”

izogie’s head drops, palms tightening into fists atop the counter as she listens. “i’ve given you so much, and i’ve been fine with hardly anything in return, but i deserve better than that.”

your voice is soft and timid as you speak, fingers fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of your sleeve as your eyes begin to shine. you look down to prevent izogie from seeing her effect on you, but she already has. her heart falters seeing you cry, especially knowing she’s the cause. “so, i need you to go,” you say, sniffing as you look up, as a tear falls down your cheek, “i need you to let me go.”

the taller woman bites the inside of her cheek, an attempt to get that pain to mask the one she felt in her chest. she hated seeing you cry, and would often tell off anybody who did so much as look at you wrong, but this time, she needed to take a long look in the mirror. look at the woman who made the love of her life struggle to hold on to the pieces of herself in her own home.

so she walks around the counter, going to stand directly in front of you as she takes you in, trying to cement the moment to memory. you don’t want to look at her, because you risk breaking the fragile boundary you’ve been trying to create. it isn’t until she shakily whispers, “please, look at me,” that you slowly lift your eyes to hers. her irises are swimming with emotions you know all to well; regret, uncertainty, acceptance.

her lower lip trembles. you frown, wanting to ease her pain, but you know that’s impossible without hurting yourself in the long run. she wraps strong arms around your waist as she pulls you into her. hesitantly, you curl your arms up her shoulder blades, both of you relaxing into the other’s touch. izogie tucks her chin into your neck, closing her eyes as your hands press into her. you feel damp droplets prick onto your skin through the wool of your top as her arms get impossibly tighter around you, wanting you closer.

you stay there. every word left unsaid or actions left undone being released in the moment, being freed.

you’re the first to pull away, hands sliding down her back, trailing down her forearms and to her hands. you breathe deeply as you look up at her, tear-stained cheeks glistening under the warm light.

she keeps her eyes on you as she walks backwards, holding onto your hand until her arms can no longer reach. you fold your arms around your middle, watching her as she grabs the knob, giving you one last look. you close your eyes, looking down to your sock-clad feet, only looking up once you hear the door shut.

gone, you think, which is good. it should stay that way.

right?

i keep lettin’ you back in. how can i explain myself? as painful as this thing has been, i just can’t be with no one else. see i know what we’ve got to do. you let go, and i’ll let go too. cause no one’s hurt me more than you, and no one ever will.

✧

taglist: @princessmel-1995 @gonesgone

#naomis-daydreams #izogie #izogie x reader #the woman king #agojie #lashana lynch #izogie x black!reader #izogie x fem!reader #izogie woman king #izogie fanfiction #izogie fanfic

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