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sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts · 4 months ago

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omg PLSSSS do a sequel to ‘under a false alter’ like PLSSS ANDDD i wanna know everything about them

how’s married life? how has she adjusted to marriage? what does he think about her? i need banter i need sexual tension I NEED EVERYTHING PLSSS oh and lots of smut THANK YOUU

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀ ᴡᴀʟʟs

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Summary: No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to escape your new husband, not that your father makes it any easier for you.

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage) SMUT, grinding, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Implied age gap, Scars, Voyeurism, Spitting, both give switch vibes, the reader has a little angsty past, biting, misogyny, almost drowning

A/n: I've never been so grateful for the amount of love this has received. I hope I do it justice with this part two. Lots of love and joy. ALSO, WE GET A MARCUS POV AT ONE POINT hehe

It had been three days since your "marriage" to Marcus, and the silence between you two had been a welcome respite. The tension in the air was thick, each of you occupying your own space, minding your own business. You hoped it would stay that way. Mornings were spent in relative peace, with Marcus at one end of the breakfast table and you at the other.

Taking a bite of a grape, you glared across the table where your father sat with his mistress, Aurelia. The sight of her playing with your father's hair made your stomach churn. The woman who had tormented you for so long was now lounging comfortably in your home, smugly flaunting her relationship with your father. They exchanged whispered words and glances filled with a shared history that excluded you. Aurelia's laughter echoed off the walls, a sound that grated against your nerves.

You noticed Marcus watching them too, his expression unreadable as he observed the easy familiarity between your father and his lover. As if sensing your gaze, Aurelia's eyes flicked towards you, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in her gaze as if daring you to disrupt their blissful morning routine. It was a calculated move, a reminder that despite your marriage to Marcus, some things remained unchanged.

"My love, we should go to the villa," Aurelia cooed, her eyes darting towards you with a malicious glint. She was clearly enjoying your discomfort. You could practically taste the bile rising in your throat at the sight and sound of her.

Your father chuckled, his voice warm and affectionate. "Ah, my dear Aurelia, always full of wonderful ideas," he replied, his hand finding hers across the table. His gaze met yours briefly, a hint of apology in his eyes before returning his attention to Aurelia. "Perhaps we should make a day of it. Just the two of us."

Aurelia leaned in closer to him, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or we could make it a family affair," she suggested with a sly smile, her gaze flickering towards Marcus and then back to you, her implication clear.

Marcus tensed beside you, his jaw clenching subtly as he watched the exchange. His eyes briefly met yours, a silent question lingering between you. You shrugged imperceptibly, unsure of what to make of Aurelia's suggestion.

"We'll see," Marcus finally interjected, his tone neutral but his gaze fixed on Aurelia. "It might be a good idea to get some fresh air."

Aurelia chuckled softly, her gaze lingering on Marcus for a moment longer than necessary before turning back to your father. "Yes, fresh air could do us all some good," she agreed, her smile widening as if she had won some small victory.

The comment landed heavily, striking you with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Father, that is not—" you began to protest, but Marcus cut you off.

"Parents don't come on a honeymoon," Marcus interjected firmly. "We'll go alone. It's tradition."

Your father looked to protest, but Marcus continued, a subtle urgency in his tone. "It’s important for us to have time alone to... solidify our bond," he explained, casting a meaningful glance at your father. "Besides, it would give her a break from the current... dynamics here."

Your father's brows furrowed as he considered Marcus's words, his gaze shifting between you and Aurelia. It was clear he was torn, wanting to spend time with his lover but also recognizing the benefit of giving you some space away from Aurelia's influence.

"Very well," your father conceded, though his expression remained stern. "But remember, you must be back by fall. And I expect you to return with news of an heir."

The ultimatum hung heavily in the air, weighing down your heart. Visiting your mother was a rare privilege, one you couldn't afford to pass up. But the thought of being with Marcus, of possibly bearing his child, filled you with dread.

"You can't be serious," you whispered, turning to face your father. "You can't make me do this."

His expression was unwavering, a stern reminder of the power he held over you. "It's for your own good," he said simply. "And for the good of our family."

Marcus's gaze remained locked onto yours, a blend of authority and challenge. "It's settled, then," he declared firmly. "We'll leave in the morning."

You bristled, your skin tingling with a mixture of anger and an unwelcome flicker of desire. "This isn't over," you warned, your voice quivering with emotion. "I won't be your pawn."

A dark chuckle escaped Marcus, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I never thought you were," he replied coolly. "But we are bound together now. Whether you like it or not."

The next morning, you found yourself in a lavish carriage, the countryside rolling by in a blur of green and gold. Marcus sat opposite you, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. The silence between you was heavy, fraught with unspoken words and simmering tension.

"I hate you," you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "I hate everything about this."

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Do you?" he asked, his tone almost mocking. "Or do you hate that you can't control it?"

You glared at him, your fists clenching in your lap. "You think you're so clever," you muttered. "But you don't know me. You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe not," he conceded. "But I intend to find out."

You turned your gaze away from him, looking out the window as the scenery shifted. The villa was near the ocean, a place you knew well. It was where you had grown up, where you had spent countless days playing in the sand and swimming in the waves. The familiarity of the landscape brought a rush of memories, both comforting and bittersweet.

Despite the beauty of the place, the reality of your situation weighed heavily on you. The promise of seeing your mother again was the only thing that had convinced you to agree to this honeymoon, but the thought of returning pregnant filled you with dread. You knew your father’s ultimatum was a trap, a way to ensure your compliance and submission.

"I won't return pregnant," you said firmly, breaking the silence. "I'm only doing this to see my mother."

Marcus leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You think you can control that?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can decide what happens between us?"

"I can try," you retorted, meeting his gaze with defiance. "I won't let you dictate my life."

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You’re stubborn, I'll give you that. But you underestimate the power of our bond. We are married now, and that means something."

"Not to me," you said, your voice trembling with anger. "This marriage is just a prison, a way to control me."

"It doesn't have to be," he said, his tone softening slightly. "We could make it something more, something real."

You scoffed, turning back to the window. "I doubt that," you muttered, your heart heavy with resentment and fear.

As the carriage continued its journey, you lost yourself in thoughts of the past and the uncertain future. The villa by the ocean, once a place of joy and freedom, now seemed like a gilded cage. The waves crashing against the shore were a stark reminder of the turbulent emotions within you, a mix of anger, sadness, and a glimmer of hope that you couldn't quite extinguish.

When the carriage finally arrived at the villa, you were both relieved and apprehensive. The grand entrance and the familiar scent of the sea filled you with a sense of nostalgia, but the presence of Marcus at your side was an ever-present reminder of the new reality you were forced to accept.

As you stepped out of the carriage, Marcus placed a hand on your back, guiding you forward. The touch was both possessive and surprisingly gentle, a contradiction that left you feeling even more conflicted.

"We'll make a fresh start here," he declared, his voice tinged with sincerity. "No more fighting. Let's give this a real chance."

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Then we keep trying," he said simply. "Until we do."

You studied him intently, trying to gauge the truth in his words. The weight of his gaze held yours, earnest and unwavering. After a moment of contemplation, you spoke, your voice tinged with skepticism. "What makes you so sure we can make this work?"

Marcus sighed softly, his hand falling to his side. "Because I'm not here to control you," he explained gently. "All I want is communication. That's all we need to make this work—open and honest communication."

His words resonated with a truth you hadn't expected. Despite your reservations, a flicker of hope stirred within you. "Communication," you echoed, testing the word on your tongue. It sounded simple, yet laden with potential.

You'd been at the villa for two days, and despite everything, you had managed to avoid Marcus and even sleep in separate bedrooms. Meal times were awkward, the silence between you both louder than any words could have been. You had resolved to stay like that for the entire three weeks your father had given you to "get pregnant." But your alcohol tolerance had other plans.

Each morning, you found yourself waking early to escape to the farthest corners of the villa, the sprawling gardens and the serene lake providing a much-needed sanctuary. You spent your days wandering through the lush greenery, finding solace in the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. Marcus, it seemed, had taken a similar approach, retreating to his own activities and leaving you undisturbed. The villa was vast enough to make this evasion possible, yet each evening you couldn't help but feel the walls closing in, the loneliness amplifying your homesickness.

The memories of your mother haunted you. The villa, though beautiful, reminded you painfully of the home you'd left behind and the loving presence of your mother. You missed her gentle voice, her comforting embrace, and her wisdom. The separation weighed heavily on your heart, each passing hour a reminder of the emotional distance that now lay between you.

It was late afternoon when you asked one of the maids to bring you a drink. A mistake, you realized too late, not specifying how strong it should be. Without your father's supervision, you had indulged far too much. The room spun around you, and your vision blurred as you stumbled your way toward the dining room.

You pushed open the heavy door, the sudden light from the chandelier making you squint. Marcus was already there, a book in his hands, but his eyes snapped to you the moment you entered. You could feel his gaze like a weight on your skin, making the room feel even hotter than it already was.

"Well, if it isn't my estranged bride," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. He put down his book, his posture straightening as he watched you struggle to find your footing.

You squinted at him, the light from the chandelier making your head throb. "Don't start," you warned, though your voice came out more slurred than stern.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Start what? Observing the obvious? You're drunk."

You staggered forward, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I'm fine," you insisted, though you nearly tripped over your own feet.

"Fine?" he echoed, his voice dripping with skepticism. "You're a mess."

You shot him a glare, your temper flaring. "Like you care," you spat. "You're just loving this, aren't you? Seeing me like this."

He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "No, actually, I'm not. You're making a fool of yourself."

"Better a fool than a tyrant," you retorted, your fists clenching at your sides. "You think you can control me, just like my father."

Marcus's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "I don't need to control you," he replied, his hands gripping your arms. "I just need you to stop acting like a child."

You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "Don't touch me," you hissed, your anger boiling over. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

His eyes flashed with irritation. "Someone has to since you clearly can't handle yourself."

"You're such a pompous ass," you shot back, your voice rising. "Do you really think I wanted any of this? To be stuck with you?"

His grip tightened, but his voice remained dangerously calm. "You think I wanted this either? To be saddled with a spoiled, reckless girl who can't even hold her liquor?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, the alcohol fueling your reckless words. "I hate you," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "I hate everything about this, and I hate you."

Marcus's eyes darkened, his grip on your arms firm but not painful. "Good," he said, his voice low and intense. "Use that hate. Let it drive you. But don't you dare make a fool of yourself in front of everyone."

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "You don't get to tell me how to feel," you choked out. "Or what to do."

He sighed, his expression softening slightly. "I'm not trying to control you," he said quietly. "I'm trying to keep you from hurting yourself."

You glared at him, your vision blurring. "I don't need your help," you insisted, though even you knew how weak it sounded.

"Too bad," he said simply, lifting you into his arms with ease. "You're getting it anyway."

You struggled weakly, your head spinning. "Put me down," you demanded, though your voice lacked conviction.

"Not a chance," he replied, carrying you toward his room. "You're staying where I can keep an eye on you."

You hated the feeling of being so helpless, so dependent on him. "You're insufferable," you muttered, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"And you're stubborn," he retorted, his grip on you firm but gentle. "But I'm not leaving you like this."

He pushed open the door to his room and set you down on the large, plush bed, his hands lingering on your arms for a moment longer than necessary. You tried to sit up, but your body refused to cooperate.

"I'm sleeping in my room," you said, trying to push yourself up, but failing miserably.

"Not tonight," Marcus said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knelt in front of you, removing your shoes with careful precision. "You're staying here where I can keep an eye on you."

You glared at him, though it lacked any real heat. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He looked up, meeting your gaze with a small, knowing smile. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "But only because I finally get to take care of you, whether you like it or not."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a confusing mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I don't need your help," you repeated weakly.

He stood, his eyes never leaving yours. "Maybe not," he said softly. "But I'm here anyway."

You tried to maintain your defiance, but your vision was blurry and your body was betraying you. The alcohol had dulled your senses, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You attempted to sit up straighter, to keep the conversation going, to keep your mind sharp. But the effort was in vain. Your head felt heavy, and your eyelids were drooping despite your best efforts.

"Don't fall asleep," you murmured to yourself, the words slurring together.

Marcus's expression softened, and he crouched down beside the bed, his face level with yours. "You need to rest," he said, his voice gentle.

"I can... stay awake," you insisted, but your body had other plans. Your limbs felt like lead, and the comfort of the bed was becoming impossible to resist.

Marcus reached out, his hand brushing a lock of hair from your face. "Just sleep," he urged. "I'll be right here."

You tried to fight it, tried to keep your eyes open, but the pull of sleep was too strong. As you stared into his eyes, the intensity of his gaze was the last thing you saw before everything went dark. His eyes held a depth that made your heart ache, a mixture of frustration, determination, and something else you couldn't quite name.

Your breathing slowed, and you felt yourself slipping away, the warmth of the bed enveloping you. Marcus's presence beside you was a strange comfort, a reminder that despite everything, you weren't alone. His hand lingered on your face for a moment longer, his touch surprisingly tender.

The last thing you saw before sleep claimed you was his face, the worry and care etched into his features. Your final thought was a confused jumble of emotions, a mixture of anger, defiance, and a reluctant sense of safety.

I watched her struggle to stay awake, her eyelids fluttering as the effects of the alcohol took hold. Her earlier defiance had melted into a fragile vulnerability that tightened my chest. Despite everything, there was something about her that stirred a protective instinct in me.

She hated me, and I couldn't blame her. This marriage wasn't her choice, just as it wasn't truly mine. But here we were, bound together by circumstances beyond our control. I had accepted the arrangement with a single, desperate hope – to escape the life of a gladiator. To live a life where survival wasn't measured by the swing of a sword.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful now, a stark contrast to the fiery woman who had spat venom at me earlier. Her reputation had preceded her – wild, unladylike, with a rebellious streak that made her father's blood boil. Any other man would have turned her away, seen her as too much trouble. But not me.

I was no stranger to trouble. Hell, I lived in it every day in the arena. So when this opportunity arose, I took it. Perhaps, deep down, I saw a bit of myself in her – trapped, fighting against the current, desperate for a way out.

I leaned back in my chair, the wood creaking softly under my weight. The villa was quiet, save for the soft sounds of the ocean outside. It was beautiful here, far removed from the chaos of our everyday lives. Maybe, just maybe, it could be a place for new beginnings.

But that was wishful thinking, and I knew it. We were too different, too stubborn, and too caught up in our own struggles to see eye to eye. Still, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe over time, we could find common ground. Maybe I could help her see that not all men were out to control her, to use her.

As she slept, I couldn't help but reflect on our wedding night. I had been a little drunk, my senses dulled by the wine and the weight of what lay ahead. I hadn’t known what to expect, and the confusion of hate and passion made me feel odd, out of place in my own skin. She had initiated sex that night, surprising me with her boldness. Yet now she pretended I was nothing more than a rodent, something to be tolerated.

But I wasn’t blind. I saw the way she looked at me, the physical attraction she tried to mask with disdain. It was confusing, this mix of desire and loathing. I wanted her, but I wouldn’t force it. I refused to become the monster she seemed to believe I was.

My eyes wandered over her sleeping form, taking in the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair splayed out over the pillow. She looked peaceful, and for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a future where she looked at me with that same peace when awake.

I remembered the way she had clung to me on our wedding night, her body warm and pliant against mine. The way she had moaned my name, her defenses lowered, just for a moment. It felt like a betrayal that she could feel so passionately in bed yet treat me with such coldness during the day.

Watching her now, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. She had fallen asleep in my presence, a small step forward in this tangled mess we found ourselves in. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A sign that maybe, just maybe, there was a way for us to find common ground.

The exhaustion from the day's events washed over me, and I settled into the chair, unable to tear my gaze away from her. She shifted slightly, a soft murmur escaping her lips. The urge to go to her, to hold her and comfort her, was strong, but I stayed put. Pushing her now would only drive her further away.

As my eyelids grew heavy, I thought about the road ahead. The days would be long and difficult, filled with arguments and misunderstandings. But for the first time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe we could make this work. Maybe we could find a way to understand each other, to build something real from the ashes of our forced union.

With that thought, I let myself drift off, the rhythmic sound of her breathing a strange, comforting lullaby. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, we had this moment of fragile peace. And in the quiet of the night, it was enough.

You woke up with a slight headache, the overwhelming scent of a man filling your senses. It was a heady mix of sweat, leather, and something distinctly masculine. You sat up, and the room spun a little. A groan escaped your lips as you checked to make sure your clothes were still on. You didn't remember him taking off anything other than your shoes, but he was still a man, after all. Your eyes landed on Marcus, uncomfortably slouched in a chair facing the bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The sight of him asleep, vulnerable, stirred something unfamiliar in you, but you quickly pushed it aside.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stood up slowly, testing your balance. The headache pounded behind your eyes, a painful reminder of your overindulgence. You made your way to the washbasin, splashing cold water on your face, hoping it would help clear the fog in your head. After a moment, you straightened, took a deep breath, and left the room, eager to put some distance between yourself and Marcus.

The villa was quiet as you made your way to the dining room, the only sounds the distant call of seabirds and the gentle lap of waves against the shore. The familiarity of it all made you ache with a longing for simpler times. You remembered your childhood here, playing on the beach, carefree and happy before the world became so complicated.

As you entered the dining room, a maid appeared, carrying a tray with a bowl and a single, raw egg. She approached you with a polite smile, her eyes downcast.

"Good morning, my lady. I've brought you something to help with... pregnancy," she said, her voice hesitant.

Your eyes narrowed, and you snapped, "I'm not pregnant. The only remedy from an old wife I want is a hangover remedy."

The maid's eyes widened in surprise and fear. "I'm sorry, my lady. It's just that raw eggs are believed to help with getting pregnant. I meant no offense."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Just bring me something for this headache, please."

She nodded quickly and scurried away, leaving you with the bowl and the raw egg. You stared at it with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. The idea of swallowing a raw egg made your stomach churn, but you knew that in the world you lived in, old wives' tales often carried weight.

Moments later, the maid returned with a cup of herbal tea and a damp cloth. "Here, my lady. This should help."

You took the tea gratefully, sipping it slowly. The warm liquid soothed your throat, and the bitter herbs began to work their magic on your pounding head. You sat down at the table, placing the cloth over your eyes and leaning back in the chair.

The quiet was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. You peeked from under the cloth to see Marcus standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He had changed into fresh clothes, but the scent of him from the night before still lingered in your nostrils.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"Not really," you replied, your tone sharp. "What do you want?"

He walked over, sitting across from you. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

You glared at him, the words from the previous night echoing in your mind. "I don't need your concern."

He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You were quite the handful last night."

"Well, if you hadn't dragged me off to bed like some helpless damsel, maybe I wouldn't have been," you shot back, the anger flaring up again.

"You're right," he said, surprising you. "But I didn't want you hurting yourself. Despite what you think, I don't want to control you."

You scoffed, lowering the cloth and meeting his gaze. "You keep saying that, but your actions say otherwise."

He sighed, rubbing his temples as if he, too, had a headache. "Look, I know you didn't want this marriage any more than I did. But we're in this together now. Fighting each other isn't going to make it any easier."

You stared at him, the sincerity in his eyes catching you off guard. You wanted to lash out, to keep up the walls you had built, but something in his demeanor made you pause.

"Why did you accept this marriage?" you asked quietly, the question that had been nagging at you since the wedding.

He looked away, his jaw tightening. "I hoped it would be a way out," he admitted. "A way to escape the life of a gladiator. And yes, I knew of your reputation. But I also knew that any other man wouldn't have accepted you, not with the rumors."

His honesty disarmed you, the anger slowly seeping out of you. You wanted to understand his motives further, but another question gnawed at you.

"So, you did this for your freedom?" you asked, trying to grasp his intentions.

"And maybe for yours too," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours again. "I know what it's like to be trapped in a life you didn't choose."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging between you. For the first time, you saw a glimpse of the man behind the mask, and it left you feeling more conflicted than ever. You didn't know if you could trust him, but you couldn't deny the small spark of hope his words ignited.

The sound of the waves outside grew louder in the silence, as if echoing the turmoil within you. You took another sip of the tea, letting the warmth spread through you, grounding you in the moment.

Marcus shifted in his seat, breaking the silence. "Do you want to visit the pier?" he asked, his voice tentative.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "The pier?" you echoed, memories flooding back. You remembered visiting the pier with your mother, the laughter, the carefree days. Since returning to the villa, you hadn't gone to see it. The thought of revisiting that place brought a mix of nostalgia and longing, but also a sense of trepidation.

"Yes, the pier," Marcus repeated, watching you closely. "I thought you might like to see it."

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to reject his offer out of sheer stubbornness, to prove you didn't need anything from him. But another part of you, the part that missed the simpler times, yearned to go.

"Why do you care?" you snapped, crossing your arms defensively.

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not about caring. I just thought it might be nice for you to see it again."

You glared at him, trying to keep your walls up. "You think taking me to the pier will make everything better? That I'll suddenly forget everything and be grateful?"

"No," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I don't expect anything. I'm just offering."

The sincerity in his voice made you falter. You hated the way he could make you feel so uncertain, so conflicted. But the thought of the pier, of the memories it held, was too tempting to ignore.

"Fine," you said, your tone laced with defiance. "I'll go."

Marcus nodded, standing up. "Meet me at the front door when you're ready."

You finished your tea and stood up, taking a deep breath. You made your way to your room to change into something more suitable for the walk. As you dressed, your mind wandered back to the days with your mother, the laughter and the joy of simpler times. You hadn't realized how much you missed it until now.

When you stepped outside, Marcus was waiting by the villa's front door. He gave you a brief nod, his expression unreadable. You walked down the steps and joined him, the air thick with tension.

"Let's get this over with," you muttered, starting down the path that led to the pier.

The walk down the small hill was silent at first, the only sounds the distant calls of seabirds and the gentle rustling of the trees. You kept your eyes forward, determined not to let Marcus see the turmoil within you.

"Did you ever come here often?" Marcus asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," you replied curtly. "With my mother."

He nodded, glancing around. "It's a beautiful place."

"It was," you said sharply, quickening your pace.

Marcus matched your stride easily. "You know, you don't have to be so hostile."

You shot him a glare. "I wouldn't have to be if you didn't keep treating me like some delicate flower."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Trust me, there's nothing delicate about you."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "And what exactly do you know about me, Marcus?"

"Enough to know you're stubborn as a mule," he retorted, a smirk playing at his lips.

You bristled, your temper flaring. "Well, at least I'm not a brute who thinks he can solve everything with his fists."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think of me?"

You turned to face him, your eyes blazing. "That's exactly what I think of you."

He opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, quickening your pace down the path to the pier. The sand and salt air grew stronger as you neared the shoreline, the familiar sights and sounds stirring a bittersweet nostalgia.

When you arrived at the pier, you paused, taking in the scene before you. The wooden structure stretched out over the water, the waves gently lapping against the posts. You could almost hear your mother's laughter, feel her hand in yours as you walked together.

Marcus stood beside you, his presence a steadying force despite your irritation. "Shall we?" he said, gesturing towards the pier.

With a sigh, you stepped onto the weathered planks, the wood creaking slightly underfoot. You walked in silence, the only sound the distant call of seabirds and the gentle lapping of the waves.

As you reached the end of the pier, you leaned against the railing, gazing out at the horizon. The sea stretched endlessly before you, a vast expanse of blue that seemed to hold all the secrets of the world.

Marcus joined you, his gaze also fixed on the horizon. "It's peaceful here," he said quietly.

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm. "It is."

For a moment, the tension between you seemed to fade, replaced by a shared appreciation for the beauty around you. But the peace was short-lived.

You turned to leave, but your foot caught on a loose board. The world tilted as you stumbled, losing your balance. With a yelp, you plunged into the water below. The icy shock of the sea stole your breath, and you struggled to stay afloat, panic surging through you. The water was a merciless force, dragging you under. Your limbs flailed wildly, but you couldn't seem to break the surface. The salty liquid filled your mouth, choking any attempt at calling for help. Your heart pounded, every beat a frantic plea for air as you fought against the pull of the sea.

In the midst of your panic, a shadow loomed above you. Through the haze of water and fear, you saw Marcus diving in. His strong arms encircled you, pulling you upwards with a force that felt both powerful and reassuring. "I can't swim!" you wanted to shout, but the words were swallowed by the water. Instead, you could only gasp, your chest burning as you fought to breathe. Marcus's grip was unyielding, his strength a lifeline. He hauled you to the surface, your head breaking through to the sweet relief of air. You coughed violently, expelling the seawater that had threatened to drown you. Your vision blurred, but you felt Marcus's steady hands guiding you to the shore.

The sand was a rough but welcome texture beneath you as Marcus laid you down, his grip loosening now that you were safe. You continued to cough, your lungs heaving as you expelled the last of the water. You were soaked to the bone, the chill of the sea clinging to your skin. Marcus stood over you, an amused glint in his eyes despite the concern etched into his features.

"I thought you said you grew up here," he remarked his tone light but edged with teasing.

You glared at him through your exhaustion, still catching your breath. "Just...shut up," you managed to rasp, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment as you realized how helpless you'd been.

He crouched beside you, his expression softening slightly. "You should have told me you couldn't swim," he said, a hint of genuine concern breaking through his teasing demeanor.

You sat up slowly, brushing sand from your wet hair. "I didn't think it would matter," you muttered, annoyed more at yourself than at him. "And I didn't expect to fall in."

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, it's a good thing I was here to save you."

You shot him a withering look. "Don't let it go to your head."

He grinned, clearly enjoying your irritation. "Too late."

You pushed yourself to your feet, shivering as the cool breeze hit your wet skin. "I need to get cleaned up," you said, more to yourself than to him.

"Do you need help with that too?" Marcus asked, his tone mischievous.

You glared at him again, but there was a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not a chance."

As you made your way back to the villa, you couldn't shake the conflicting feelings that Marcus stirred in you. His arrogance was infuriating, but there was something about his confidence and the way he had jumped in to save you without hesitation that you couldn't ignore.

"Your father said you grew up here, and you can't swim?" he mocked, shaking his head. "What kind of life have you led?"

You glared at him, anger and humiliation warring within you. "Not that it's any of your business, but my mother didn't want me learning. She was afraid of the sea."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. "And you? Are you afraid of the sea?"

You looked away, the memories of your mother's fear mingling with your own. "Maybe," you admitted quietly.

Marcus sighed, helping you to your feet. "You could have told me."

"And you could stop assuming you know everything about me," you shot back, refusing to meet his gaze.

He paused briefly, then chuckled softly. "Fair enough."

Standing there, dripping wet and shivering, the earlier bickering had faded, leaving behind a tentative peace. The walk back to the villa had taken an unexpected turn, yet as you gazed out over the water, a curious sense of calm settled within you.

He remained quiet, and you welcomed the respite of silence as you reached the villa. You marched inside, heading straight for your room. The maids hurried over, their eyes wide with concern.

"Prepare a bath," you ordered, stripping off your wet clothes. "And make it quick."

The maids hurried to obey, filling the tub with steaming water and adding fragrant oils. You stepped in, sinking into the warmth with a sigh of relief. The water soothed your aching muscles and washed away the sand and salt.

As you soaked, the events of the day replayed in your mind. The bickering with Marcus, the fall into the water, his unexpected rescue. You couldn't deny the conflicting emotions he stirred in you, the blend of anger, frustration, and something else you couldn't quite identify. The bathwater's warmth wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, and you let out a long, slow breath, trying to relax.

Just as you were beginning to feel at ease, the door to your room creaked open. Your eyes snapped open, and you saw Marcus standing in the doorway, his eyes widening as he realized you were still in the bath.

"Gods above, Marcus!" you shrieked, sinking deeper into the water and grabbing a towel to cover yourself.

He quickly turned his back, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't know you were still in here!"

"What part of the closed door didn't you understand?" you snapped, fumbling to wrap the towel around yourself.

"I just wanted to talk to you," he said, his voice slightly muffled as he faced away from you. "About what happened today."

"Can it wait until I'm dressed?" you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He sighed. "I suppose it could, but I thought we should clear the air sooner rather than later."

You finished securing the towel and stood up carefully, stepping out of the tub. "Fine, just... turn around and give me a moment."

Marcus nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. You quickly dried off and pulled on a simple, comfortable dress. The fabric felt soft against your skin, and you let out a small sigh of relief.

"Okay, you can come back in," you called, tying your hair back with a ribbon.

The door opened again, and Marcus entered, looking slightly sheepish. "Sorry about that," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You waved a hand dismissively. "Just don't make a habit of it."

He chuckled, then grew serious. "I wanted to talk to you about learning to swim."

You raised an eyebrow. "Learning to swim? Now?"

He nodded. "Yes. After what happened today, I think it's important. You grew up by the sea, but you can't swim. It's something you should know, for your own safety."

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. "And you think you're the one to teach me?"

"Who else?" he replied with a shrug. "Besides, it might be a way for us to... not bicker so much."

You let out a huff of laughter, shaking your head. "You really think swimming lessons will solve our problems?"

Marcus gave you a small smile. "It couldn't hurt to try."

You thought about it for a moment, the memory of the cold water and the panic still fresh in your mind. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. Learning to swim would be useful, and maybe it would help ease the tension between you.

"Fine," you said at last. "I'll let you teach me. But if you mock me, even once, I'll throw you into the sea."

Marcus laughed, a genuine, warm sound that surprised you. "Deal."

You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow morning," he said. "We'll go down to the beach and start there."

You gave a reluctant nod. "Alright. Tomorrow morning."

As Marcus turned to leave, you couldn't help but feel a small glimmer of hope. Maybe this would be a step towards something better. Or at the very least, it would give you a chance to prove you weren't as helpless as he seemed to think.

You were dreaming so sweetly, the air from the balcony streaming into the room, bringing with it the scent of the sea. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant call of seabirds blended into a lullaby that cradled you in its arms. In your dream, you were walking along the beach with your mother, her laughter mingling with the sound of the waves.

Suddenly, a hand on your shoulder jolted you awake. "Get up!" Marcus's voice was a harsh whisper in the pre-dawn darkness.

You blinked, disoriented, your mind still clinging to the remnants of your dream. "What...?" you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

"It's time to start your training," he said, pulling the curtains open. The sky was still a deep indigo, with the faintest hint of light on the horizon.

With a groan, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up, still half-asleep. "Alright, alright. I'm up."

"Good," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Get dressed and meet me outside."

You quickly changed into a simple tunic and tied your hair back, the cool morning air nipping at your skin. As you stepped out onto the balcony, the first rays of dawn painted the sky in shades of pink and orange. You made your way to the front of the villa, where Marcus was waiting, looking annoyingly alert.

"Could you be any more enthusiastic?" you muttered, stifling another yawn.

He smirked. "I'm just trying to make the most of the day. Unlike some people who would rather sleep through it."

"Some people prefer not to be woken up at the crack of dawn," you retorted, crossing your arms.

"Maybe if some people had learned to swim earlier, we wouldn't be here now," he shot back, starting down the path towards the beach.

You followed him, the cool sand squishing between your toes. "Or maybe if some people weren't so insistent on dragging others out of bed, they could have a more peaceful morning."

He chuckled. "You know, you could just admit that you need the lessons."

"I don't need them," you grumbled, "I just don't want to drown."

"Same thing," he said, shrugging.

The beach stretched out before you, the waves gently lapping at the shore. As you walked, the sound of the sea grew louder, filling the air with its soothing rhythm. The familiar scent of saltwater brought back memories of playing on the sand as a child, carefree and happy.

"Alright," Marcus said, stopping at the edge of the water. "We'll start with the basics. Just try to relax and trust me."

"Trust you," you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's a lot to ask."

He gave you a patient look. "I know. But if you can't trust me, trust that I don't want to have to save you every time you fall into the water."

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. But if you mock me, even once, I swear I'll throw you in."

Marcus laughed, a genuine, warm sound that surprised you. "Deal."

As you waded into the water, you could feel your tunic growing heavier, clinging to your skin. You paused, looking down at the soaked fabric. "This tunic is going to get ruined," you muttered, more to yourself than to Marcus.

With a huff, you turned your back to him and carefully pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it onto the shore. The cool air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you stood bare before him. You waded back into the water, feeling exposed but determined not to let it show.

Marcus watched you with an appraising gaze, his eyes tracing the curve of your shoulders and the lines of your back. There was a moment of silence between you, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. Then, without a word, Marcus reached for the hem of his own tunic and pulled it over his head.

The sight of his bare chest took you by surprise. His skin was bronzed from days under the sun, muscles defined and powerful. Droplets of water clung to his torso, catching the sunlight in a way that made you momentarily forget your irritation. His presence was commanding yet strangely comforting, like a force of nature you couldn't resist.

You tore your gaze away, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks. "Alright, enough staring," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Marcus chuckled softly, stepping into the water beside you. "Just making sure you're not the only one feeling exposed," he remarked his tone light but tinged with something deeper.

You scowled at him, but there was a hint of a smile playing at your lips. "Don't get too comfortable," you warned, trying to regain your composure.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Who says I'm not comfortable already?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was no venom in the gesture. "Enough of your smugness. Let's just get this over with."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Who says I'm not comfortable already?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the flutter in your chest. "Just focus on the lesson, Marcus."

He nodded, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. "Alright, let's get started then."

Marcus led you into the shallows, the cool water lapping at your ankles, then your knees. He moved with an easy confidence, his presence reassuring despite the lingering tension between you.

"First, we need to get you comfortable with the water," he said, his tone more serious now. "Can you float on your back?"

You hesitated, the memory of your earlier panic still fresh. "I can try."

"Good," he said. "I'll support you. Just relax and let the water hold you."

You lay back, feeling his hands under your shoulders and lower back. The sensation of the water buoying you up was strange, but Marcus's steady grip kept you grounded. You focused on the sky above, the blue expanse calming your racing heart.

"See?" he murmured. "You're doing fine."

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "For now."

Marcus chuckled, his hands firm and reassuring. "Now, try to kick your legs gently."

You did as he instructed, the water resisting your movements. It felt awkward, but you persisted, trying to find a rhythm.

"That's it," Marcus encouraged. "Just like that. You're doing great."

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. "Maybe this isn't so bad."

Marcus grinned. "I told you. Now, let's move a bit deeper."

He guided you further into the water, his grip never faltering. As the water reached your waist, you felt a flicker of unease but pushed it aside. You were determined to prove you could do this.

"Alright," he said, stopping when the water was up to your chest. "Let's try some basic strokes. I'll show you, then you copy me."

You watched as he demonstrated a simple stroke, his movements smooth and confident. His muscles rippled under the water, every action purposeful and efficient. You tried to mimic him, feeling clumsy in comparison.

"Good," he said, nodding. "But keep your elbows higher. Like this."

He corrected your form, his touch gentle yet precise. You adjusted, trying to follow his guidance.

"Better," he praised. "Now, let's keep practicing."

You continued the lesson, each new skill building your confidence. As you practiced, you couldn't help but feel a growing respect for Marcus. Despite his arrogance, he was a patient and effective teacher.

After a while, Marcus called for a break. You waded to shallower water, grateful for the reprieve. As you stood catching your breath, Marcus studied you thoughtfully.

"You're not afraid of the water, are you?" he asked suddenly.

You shook your head, surprised by the question. "No. I just... never learned to swim."

"Why not?" he pressed, curiosity lighting up his eyes.

You hesitated, the memories tugging at your heart. "My mother... she despised the sea," you began softly. "She preferred the safety and serenity of the countryside. My father, on the other hand, adored it. Most of our family's wealth came from his sea trade ventures. He built his entire empire on the waves."

Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly intrigued. "So your mother didn't share his love for the sea?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "No, quite the opposite. She was terrified of it. She hated the constant worry every time he left on a voyage, the endless nights spent alone. She never understood his obsession with the sea. Their marriage was arranged, just like ours. But unlike us, they never found common ground."

"And your father?" Marcus asked, his tone gentler now.

"My father loved the sea more than anything," you said, your voice tinged with sadness. "He saw it as a source of freedom and wealth. He would spend months at a time on his ships, overseeing his trade routes, and ensuring our fortune grew. The sea was his true mistress."

Marcus seemed to consider this, his expression thoughtful. "So your mother lives in the countryside now?"

You nodded. "Yes. She moved away a few years ago. Couldn't stand the sight of the sea anymore, or the memories it held. She wanted peace, a life without the constant fear and loneliness."

"Do you see her often?" he asked, his curiosity genuine.

"Not as much as I'd like," you admitted. "She visits sometimes, but my father keeps her at a distance. He's still bitter, even after all these years. He sees her as weak, unable to embrace the life he chose."

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sounds like we're both products of difficult marriages."

"Indeed," you replied, meeting his intense gaze with equal fervor. "But I don't want to be trapped like my parents."

Marcus's eyes softened as he stepped closer, his hands finding your waist with a gentle certainty that sent a thrilling shiver through you. Without hesitation, you wrapped your legs around his torso, feeling the strength of his body supporting you effortlessly.

"We won't be trapped," Marcus assured you, his voice low and steady, filled with promise. "Not like them. We'll find our own way, together."

His words, spoken with such conviction, resonated deep within you. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored your own, forging an unspoken bond between you.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of gold and pink, casting a serene glow over the water, Marcus leaned in closer. His warm breath mingled with yours, creating an intimate cocoon amidst the tranquil sounds of the sea.

With a tenderness that belied his usual stern demeanor, Marcus brushed his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss. It was a moment suspended in time, charged with unspoken desire and the promise of something more.

You responded eagerly, your heart racing as you deepened the kiss, surrendering to the intoxicating connection between you. The barriers that had once stood firm melted away with each tender caress of his lips, leaving only the raw, undeniable truth of your shared desire.

As the kiss grew more fervent, Marcus's hands roamed your body, their touch both possessive and tender. He guided you out of the water, each step a testament to his strength and control. The cool breeze hit your wet skin, but the heat between you and Marcus was undeniable, a fire that neither the sea nor the morning chill could extinguish.

He laid you down gently on the sand, the grains rough yet grounding beneath you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "Would it really be so bad to at least try for a baby?" he asked, his voice a mix of longing and challenge.

You bristled at his words, your defenses rising again. "I'm a child myself," you retorted, your voice trembling with both defiance and uncertainty. "How can I bring another life into this world when I'm still figuring out my own?”

Marcus's gaze softened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. "No one said it had to work," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "But we can try. Together. We can make our own Path.

His words were a balm to your fears, a promise of partnership rather than domination. As he leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, you felt the last vestiges of resistance crumble. The passion between you was a living thing, a force that demanded to be acknowledged.

Marcus's hands moved with purpose, exploring every inch of you with a reverence that made you shiver. You arched into his touch, your body responding to his in ways that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. His lips trailed down your neck leaving a path of fire in their wake.

"Marcus," you breathed your voice a mix of need and wonder. He paused, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away.

"We don`t have to do this if you're not ready," he said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "But know that I want you. I want us to have a chance."

You searched his eyes, finding a sincerity that both scared and exhilarated you. "I want you too," you admitted the words a leap of faith. "But this... it changes everything.”

"Then let it change us," he murmured, his lips finding yours once more. The kiss deepened, a blend of urgency and tenderness that left you both breathless.

You felt the rough sand beneath you as Marcus pulled you closer, his hand gripping your cheek firmly as he kissed you passionately. His touch was both possessive and reverent as if he were handling a precious porcelain doll. His hand traveled down your body, caressing every curve with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

He pulled away from the kiss, the sun reflecting off his body, making him glow with an almost ethereal light. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His hand traveled lower, caressing your upper thigh before spreading them, giving him a place to stabilize himself. You felt his length prod at your thigh, the heat of his desire palpable.

Unable to resist, you pulled him in for another kiss, feeling his hips move into your body, his erection grinding against your thigh. "God, you're hard," you murmured, pulling away from the kiss to take in his disheveled appearance.

"I've been hard as a rock since we started the lesson," he teased, his voice thick with lust. He captured your lips again, his hand wandering down to your clit, circling it in slow, teasing motions.

"Marcus," you gasped your voice a mix of need and frustration.

He smirked against your skin, his lips trailing down to your neck, where he bit softly, making you wince. "You dick," you muttered, but your protest was cut short by a moan as he rubbed his length up and down your slick wetness.

Leaning over you, Marcus positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes dark with desire. "I know you want my dick," he said with a smirk, pushing into you with a slow, deliberate thrust.

Your body arched at the sensation, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he began to move. He lifted your legs slightly, pushing your knees to your chest, the new angle allowing him to thrust deeper. The stretch was intense, the feeling of him filling you completely almost overwhelming.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle your whimpers, but they quickly turned into borderline screams as he brutally fucked into you. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and frantically grab at the sand for some stability. You could swear he was rearranging your insides, his cock hitting your G-spot with relentless precision.

Your vision blurred, and all you could feel was the intense pleasure he was giving you. You didn't think getting fucked like this was physically possible, didn't think you were capable of feeling such intense pleasure at the hands of a man.

Marcus's smirk widened as he leaned down, his eyes following the bulge on your lower belly. "Yeah, feel it," he mocked, resting his forehead against yours as he bottomed out again. "Got you stuffed all the way in, huh?"

You couldn't even argue, your eyes brimming with tears as he pressed his palm harder against the bulge. Your eyes clenched shut, but his relentless thrusts only edged you further. He gripped your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him. "No, you keep looking. Taking me so good, gonna—fuck, gonna have to ruin you."

Tears welled at the corners of your eyes as the pressure within you built to an almost unbearable peak. You were so close, so desperately close to the edge. Sensing your state, Marcus's gaze flicked to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Ask nicely, goddess” he grunted, picking up the punishing pace once more. "Use your manners and I'll give you whatever you want." His hands moved to your thighs, forcing them against your stomach, letting him push into you deeper. The sensation made your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightening immediately.

"Please... for fuck's sake, let me cum or I'm gonna rip your stupid perfect cock off the second we're done," you managed to grunt through gritted teeth.

He chuckled breathlessly, his hand returning to your clit, pressing rough and rapid circles against it. "We'll work on that," he laughed softly, feeling you rapidly slipping towards the edge. He didn't let up on his ruthless motions, finally pushing you over the brink.

You were loud. Probably too loud. Your scream of release echoed along the shore, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Marcus followed you over the edge, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spilled into you, the warmth of his release sending one last wave of pleasure through your already trembling body.

As the intensity of the moment faded, you both lay there, tangled together in the sand, breathing heavily. Marcus's forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and something deeper.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try," you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even you.

Marcus's smile widened a glint of mischief in his eyes. "If it feels that good every time," you added with a playful smirk, "I might not mind at all."

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and leaned in to brush his lips against yours once more. Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the kiss again, a voice suddenly called out from behind you.

"Hey! What are you two doing here?" The voice was stern, and authoritative.

You and Marcus scrambled to cover yourselves, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling up as you fumbled with your discarded clothes.

Realization dawned on the guard's face as he took in the sight of Marcus's distinctive, regal features and your own disheveled state. His expression quickly turned from stern to horrified as he realized who he was interrupting.

"I-I'm so sorry, my lord, my lady," he stammered, turning an alarming shade of red. "I didn't realize—"

Marcus, still half-naked and laughing, held up a hand to stop him. "It's alright," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Just a little... misunderstanding."

The guard's eyes darted around, clearly trying to avoid looking directly at either of you. "I'll just... I'll just be going now," he mumbled, backing away quickly before turning and sprinting down the beach.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter, the absurdity of the situation breaking the tension that had been lingering. Marcus joined in, his laughter a deep, infectious rumble that made you forget all your worries, if only for a moment.

Once the laughter had subsided, Marcus turned to you, a mischievous look in his eyes. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper, "there's always the sea. No guards to interrupt us there."

You raised an eyebrow, your own smile widening. "Is that so?" you asked, the idea sending a thrill through you.

"Absolutely," he replied, standing up and offering you his hand. "Shall we?"

You took his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver of anticipation through you. Together, you made your way to the edge of the water, the cool waves lapping at your feet. Marcus's presence beside you felt grounding, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of the playful breeze and the gentle rush of the sea.

As you reached the water's edge, Marcus pulled you into his arms. The sea welcomed you both with its refreshing embrace, its coolness a stark contrast to the heat that had built between you. You chuckled softly at Marcus's promise, spoken against your lips.

Marcus pulled you into his arms, the sea providing a refreshing contrast to the heat between you. "I promise," he murmured against your lips, "no interruptions this time."

2K notes · View notes

miley1442111 · 7 months ago

Text

(part 1) before his choice- a.donaldson

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

this is like the prelude to the other stuff but i get that it's confusing that it's coming out later- i didn't think i'd turn this into a series so i didn't exactly have a plan, sorry :)

this is 18+, mdni plssss

summary: how it was before art ruined your relationship

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: smuttttt, 18+, piv using protection (don't be silly, wrap it), oral (f receiving), cute couple moments

(i think that's it but pls tell me if i forgot anything:)

Part 1 of 12

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“There goes Stanford’s favourite couple!” Megan rolled her eyes playfully. Art had his arms draped around your shoulders as you walked around campus as the sun set. Art chuckled and flipped her off, smirking as you laughed. Megan had been your roommate in your first year and you’d been best friends ever since.

You and Art were Stanford’s favourite couple. You were tennis prodigies, both extremely talented and both of you were friends with basically everyone. Everyone was always rooting for the two of you, apparently there was a fan page dedicated to your relationship.

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“How was practice with Tash?” He asked, his arms circling your waist as you leant against the wall, waiting in line in the canteen.

“Fine, she’s getting better,” You shrugged. Tashi had never been able to beat you, but she was getting better.

“She’s not going to beat you,” He smirked, pressing kisses against your cheeks.

“She’s really good!” You giggled, feeling his hands squeeze your waist harder. “I wouldn’t mind, maybe then she wouldn’t hate me.”

“Tashi doesn’t hate you,” he shook his head. He knew it was a semi-lie, Tashi didn't like loosing. You were the only person capable of making her loose.

“She doesn’t like me Art, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you sighed. “Anyway, enough tennis, what are we doing tonight?”

Art smirked. “We have that party-”

You groaned. Art always wanted to go out, then leave early. In your opinion, why not just cut out the middleman and go straight to your dorm? “Art, what is the point?”

“You look hot in dresses,” He shrugged and chuckled as you playfully hit him on the arm. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can dance and hang out with our friends.”

You rolled your eyes at the way he’s pretending it’s a choice. “It’s not like I have a choice, I picked date night last time.”

“Exactly, so we’re going,” he grinned and you cupped his cheek, kissing him heavily. He was so beautiful, what else were you supposed to do? You pulled away quickly and moved up in the line, beginning to order both your lunches. You drove Art insane sometimes. Your pretty tennis skirts, your sweet lips on his, you.

He did recognise that his brain was still stuck in the gutter like a teenage boy when it came to sex. He didn’t seem to mind much though.

He placed his hand on your ass as you ordered for the both of you and he saw how you gulped.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’s head was in the gutter.

You collected your food and sat at a table together, enjoying the canteen food.

“You’ll wear the red dress, right?” He asked. It was his favourite colour, and the colour of the college that the two of you would be representing.

“No, Nike sent over something for me to wear, I think it’s purple,” you shrugged. Your partnership with Nike meant at every event you went to, you were representing them. That meant they were often sending you new things.

“Purple?” He questioned.

“Yeah, like plum-y purple,” you shrugged.

“Can’t wait,” he winked at you and you kicked him under the table.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

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You finished styling your hair as Art walked into your dorm, baby blue shirt and some black formal trousers on, his blonde curls looking particularly beautiful. The dress Nike had sent over was beautiful, Art’s jaw dropped when he saw you.

You were gorgeous.

“Hey baby,” You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his stunned cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” He stated. You chuckled at him as his hands gripped your waist, making you look at him. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

“You look handsome,” You smiled, smoothing out his collar. “Ready to go?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he decided, lust-filled eyes staring into yours before he pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

You kissed back immediately, your hands running through his curls. You probably had a ‘thing’ for his hair. His hands smoothed up the expanse of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. This is what he was, passionate, loving, and a little bit possessive. He radiated heat, his chest against your as he pushed you against the wall, his lips never leaving yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips as your hands dipped lower, going directly for his trousers zipper.

“So are you,” you smiled, kissing him again. His hands found the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor at your feet. You unzipped him then started working on his shirt buttons, both of you forgetting about the party.

His hands quickly pulled at your bra and underwear, leaving you bare as he stripped himself, thanking his past self for keeping a stock of condoms in your bedside table. He leaned over, quickly grabbing one and opening it with his teeth, sheathing his hard cock as you looked at him under you. He met your glazed eyes, lustfully looking at him, a soft smile on your face.

You were so beautiful.

You sank down on him, never quite used to the stretch he provided. “Fuck,” you moaned out.

His eyes rolled back as you buried him inside of you. His hands gripped your waist, the faint remnants of bruises left from earlier in the week, when he was in this exact position. He pulled your face down to his as you started moving and started kissing up and down your neck between moans. He changed the position slightly, thrusting up into you to reach the gummy spot inside of you that made you scream out for him.

“God,” he groaned. “Fuck… f-fuck.”

You felt so good around him, it was one of his favourite feelings, the absolute euphoria of having your wrapped around him, using him to get yourself off.

“You’re so good,” you whined breathlessly. “So good.”

Your voice and moans spurred him on, he loved your voice. He loved everything about you.

“You gonna cum?” He whined, thrusting up into you. You nodded, bouncing on him harder as you began reaching your climax. He felt you tighten around him and he gasped, trying to not cum so quickly.

“I’m c-cumming,” You groaned in his ear and he was a goner. He cupped your cheek, hap-harzardly kissing you to swallow the scream that was bound to leave his lips. You gripped his hips to still his uncoordinated and subscious thrusts as you both came down from your highs.

Art still wasn’t done, he needed to taste you. “Let me taste it, please?” He begged, pulling himself out of you. “Please?”

“Art, we’re already late,” you reminded him through your sex-fueled haze.

“Please, just let me kiss it,” he begged, kissing down your body, his fingers finding your sopping core. You moaned at the contact and nodded, a meek ‘please’ leaving your lips.

That was all the confirmation Art needed. He latched his lips onto your clit, drawing out moan after moan. His fingers pumped in and out of you slowly, paying special attention to your g-spot. His tongue sucked over your over-sensitive clit and brought you to another two orgasms, not being able to stop himself from humping the bed in his enchanted state. He loved how you tasted, he couldn’t get enough of it, he never wanted to. If he could spend his days between your legs he would.

After you came for the third time that night, he connected your lips again and smiled at you. “Thank you.”

Your fucked-out face was truly a sight to behold, and he had the pleasure of seeing it whenever he pleased.

“Come on, we have a party to go to,” He smirked and you whined as he cleaned you up by running three fingers through your soaking core and licking them clean.

He appreciated the new marks on your neck that he had created as you slowly got up. You dressed yourself in the beautiful dress once again, fixing your hair and makeup, then spraying yourself with some more perfume, attempting to cover the smell of sex.

As you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he thought about how perfect you were, his hand in yours as he drove you to the party.

Little did he know that this party would lead to the beginning of the end of your relationship.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

#art challengers #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers #mike faist x reader #mike faist #josh oconnor #patrick zweig

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syluslnd · 2 months ago

Note

NSFW IMAGINE REQUEST PLSSSS!!!

sylus going with u to the supermarket, but since you've been teasing him all day, he decides to tease back

he controls a vibrator, and everytime youre close he stops until he brings u to the bathroom

(sorry ive been too freaky these days)

sylus remote vibrator

Tags-squirting,overstimulation,verbal teasing

He had been watching you all day, his eyes darkening with each passing hour, each teasing remark you threw his way. You'd been playful, a little more mischievous than usual-flirting, brushing against him, tempting him with lingering touches. Every time he tried to pull you close, you'd giggle and slip away, keeping him on edge, knowing exactly what you were doing.

But now, the tables had turned.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your expression neutral as you follow him through the store. Sylus walks ahead of you, seemingly composed but you can feel the tension between you. The small remote in his hand is your undoing, the vibrator nestled between your legs sending torturous pulses through you. He knows exactly when to increase the intensity and exactly when to stop.

Your thighs clench as another wave of pleasure builds, your breathing becoming shallow. You reach out, steadying yourself on a nearby shelf, trying to appear nonchalant as a couple walks by, completely unaware of the predicament you're in. But Sylus, with his infuriating calmness, glances over his shoulder at you, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

"Something wrong, sweetie?" he asks, his voice a low purr that sends a fresh rush of heat to your core.

You shake your head, cheeks burning. "N-No, I'm fine."

"Is that so?" He steps closer, towering over you, his hand sliding around your waist, fingers brushing the remote in his pocket.

"Because you look a little... flustered."

His words make you shiver and you struggle to hold back a whimper as he flicks the remote, increasing the vibrations. Your legs tremble and you grip his arm for support, your body betraying you. You're so close-so close to the edge that it's maddening.

But just as you're about to tip over, he stops it. Again.

You let out a quiet, frustrated gasp, your legs shaking from the constant denial. "S-Sylus..."

He chuckles darkly, his hand tightening on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"What's the matter, kitten? You were so confident earlier, teasing me and now look at you" he murmurs in your ear, voice dripping with amusement. "Legs shaking, completely pink... You're adorable."

You feel your face heat up even more at his words and you glance around the store, terrified someone might notice the state you're in. But Sylus doesn't care. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers "You've been behaving naughty all day. Did you really think I wouldn't get my payback?"

Your breath hitches and you shake your head, biting your lip as you try to compose yourself. But it's impossible with him this close, his voice, his touch, and that damn vibrator all conspiring against you.

"Sylus, please" you whisper, barely able to form the words.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk widening as he sees the desperation written all over your face.

"Please what? You want me to let you finish?"

you nod, your voice too shaky to respond properly. The frustration, the need-he's driving you insane and he knows it.

But instead of showing mercy, Sylus tilts his head, pretending to think. "Hm... I don't know. Maybe you haven't had enough yet." His thumb brushes over the remote again and the vibrator hums to life, this time softer, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge without pushing you over.

A small, strangled moan escapes your lips and you bury your face in his chest, mortified at how far he's pushed you. "S-Sylus, I can't..."

"Yes, you can” he replies smoothly, his hand stroking your back as if to comfort you but the cruel glint in his eyes says otherwise.

"Just a little longer, sweetie. You can take it."

You're trembling, your knees weak as you grip his shirt, desperately trying to stay standing but it's too much. The pleasure is overwhelming, yet never enough to bring you release and it's driving you mad.

"You're... so mean" you manage to whisper, voice barely audible.

He chuckles again, brushing a strand of hair away from your flushed face. "Maybe" he admits, his voice softening slightly. "But you like it, don't you?"

You don't respond, unable to form a coherent thought. The only thing running through your mind is the unbearable tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

Just as the wave of pleasure threatens to crash over you, Sylus suddenly flicks the remote again, turning the vibrator off just before you can finish. A strangled gasp escapes your throat, and your legs nearly give out from the frustration but he's quick, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to keep you from collapsing.

"Not yet, kitten" he whispers in your ear, his voice low and dark, sending a fresh shiver down your spine.

Your body trembles, desperate for release but he doesn't give you a moment to recover. Instead, Sylus scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you through the store with a purpose that makes your heart race.

Every step has you blushing furiously, your mind a haze of want and embarrassment.

He pushes open the door to a private bathroom, kicking it shut behind him before pressing you against the wall. His body cages yours in, one hand lifting your arms above your head, pinning them in place. You whimper softly, the air thick with anticipation, the weight of his gaze on you making it impossible to think.

"S-Sylus..." you manage to gasp but he only smirks, holding up the remote with his free hand.

"You've been teasing me all day, sweetie" he murmurs, eyes gleaming with dark intent.

"Did you really think I was going to let you off that easy?"

Before you can respond, the vibrator comes to life again, buzzing to its highest setting and your body jerks in his hold. Your back arches against the cold wall, your head falling back as the intense sensations wash over you. This time, he doesn't stop.

Your mind goes blank, overwhelmed by the relentless pleasure. The tension inside you builds faster than before, your body completely at his mercy as you squirm beneath him, your wrists straining against his grip.

"You can come now" Sylus whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice thick with amusement. "Go ahead, kitten."

And you do. The orgasm rips through you, more intense than anything before, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you let out a breathless moan. But even as the pleasure crashes over you, Sylus doesn't stop.

The vibrator keeps going, sending aftershocks of pleasure rippling through you, too much and not enough at the same time.

"S-Sylus, please..." you whimper, but he only tightens his grip on your wrists, his body pressing even closer to yours, holding you in place.

"Look at you" he purrs, watching you with a wicked smile. "You're so pretty when you're all pink and trembling like this. Didn't I tell you you'd pay for teasing me?"

Your head spins, your body wracked with overstimulation but he's unrelenting. Every time you think you've had enough, the vibrations keep you teetering on the edge, pushing you further than you ever thought possible.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you writhe against him, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. But Sylus only leans in closer, his lips brushing softly over yours as he whispers, "You wanted to be naughty, sweetie. Now you'll take everything | give you."

"Sylus... please... turn it off" you plead breathlessly, your voice barely a whisper as the relentless vibrations wrack your body.

Your legs are trembling uncontrollably, your thighs slick with the evidence of your pleasure. But he's not listening—no, he's savoring every moment of your torment, his eyes dark with amusement as he watches you writhe against the wall.

A low, mocking chuckle escapes his lips and he tilts his head, leaning in close enough for his lips to ghost over your neck. "Turn it off?" he echoes, his tone dripping with cruel amusement. "Why should I? You're the one who teased me all day, sweetie. This is your fault."

You whimper, shaking your head as your body jerks with each pulse of the vibrator. "I-I can't... it's too much..."

"Oh, it's too much now?" Sylus smirks, his hand still firmly holding the remote. "You were so bold earlier, kitten but now look at you." He brushes a thumb over your flushed cheek, his touch almost tender but his words are anything but. "Shaking, helpless, begging me to stop. You're adorable."

Your body trembles violently, your legs barely able to hold you up. Every nerve feels like it's on fire, the overstimulation pushing you to a breaking point. You let out another desperate moan, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the intense sensations build and build, becoming unbearable.

"S-Sylus, please!" you beg again, tears welling in your eyes as the sensation becomes too much to handle. But he just grins, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

"You can beg all you want" he purrs, pressing the vibrator even harder against you "but I think you've got one more in you, sweetie. Let's see how far you can go."

That's when it happens. The overwhelming pressure finally pushes you past the point of no return. Your body spasms and with a loud, helpless cry, you feel yourself gush uncontrollably, your release splattering down your legs and soaking your panties. The sheer intensity of it makes your entire body tremble and you slump against the wall, barely able to stay standing as the waves of pleasure ripple through you.

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of your labored breathing, the wetness dripping down your thighs a stark reminder of just how far he's pushed you. But Sylus?

He's far from finished.

"Well, well, well" he drawls, his voice thick with mockery, "look at the mess you made, kitten." His eyes roam over your trembling form and you feel the weight of his gaze, both embarrassed and completely at his mercy. "Did you just squirt all over yourself?"

You bite your lip, too ashamed to respond but Sylus isn't about to let it slide. His fingers trail down your quivering thigh, collecting the evidence of your release, and he holds it up, glancing at the wetness coating his fingers with a wicked grin.

"You really couldn't help yourself, could you?" he teases, his voice dripping with condescension. "You're trembling like a little leaf, squirting all over the place... How cute."

You bury your face in your arm, too mortified to meet his gaze, but Sylus doesn't let you hide for long. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't be shy, sweetie. I think you enjoyed that more than you're willing to admit." He presses his lips to the side of your neck, kissing you softly, but the cruel amusement never leaves his voice.

"You're so sensitive... so easy to break."

His teasing only makes the humiliation burn hotter, and you feel another wave of pleasure building again, despite your body's exhaustion. "Sylus, please..." you whisper, your voice trembling.

But he just chuckles, pulling back to look at you with that familiar smugness. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before teasing me all day. Or maybe you like being punished this way, hm?"

His words hang in the air, his relentless teasing pulling you deeper into the haze of overstimulation. And Sylus? He shows no sign of stopping anytime soon.

#lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus x reader #sylus #sylus x you

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musaslullaby · 3 months ago

Text

Streaming night

Lando Norris x fem reader

Summary: Yn and Lando make a bet

Warning: only fluff, au instagram

Face: random people on Pinterest and Lando.

Masterlist

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪

Yn_gamelife

Description: Soon live, we’re waiting for you.❤️❤️❤️

liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri and other 293932892

Landonorris: My baby girl❤️❤️❤️

Landonorris: You are so beautiful.

yn_lando: Lando flooding the comment section of Yn.

Landonorris: I don’t know how I’ll keep my hands to myself tonight.

Yn_gamelife: Lando, stop, you won’t dissuade me from playing The Sims.

Landonorris: Oh my god baby plssss

Ynmyword: The third photo is completely random.

Landono_rris: He's so cute

N4: Lando without a shirt????

L_y: Shh, let me enjoy the scene.

Yn_lifegame

Description: I left Lando alone for two seconds asking him to create me on The Sims (I shouldn't have done that)."

liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri and other 293932892

Ynqueen: Yn's face says it all

❤️ Like to author

Yn_Lando: Ok now I want to see what Lando has created

utente67:You should have come live.

Landonorris: It was beautiful, the best Sim ever.

Yn_lifegame: No no absolutely no

Yn_Lando: O my God they replied

Landonorris: Okok but it was so difficult

Yn_lifegame: No it wasn't

Landonorris: If you think you can create one better than mine, go ahead, but if you can’t, you owe me a date—just you, me, and clothes on the floor. ❤️ Like to author

Yn_lifegame: If I win, you’ll have to do everything I say for a day.

Landonorris: Get ready to lose

Ynmyword: What did we just witness?

Ln4_81: I’m scared.

Landonorris

Description: Her super professional setup, and then there's mine that just exists

liked by Yn:gamelife, charles_leclerc and other 293932892

Yn_lifegame: Please don't embarrass me

❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: I didn't know you knew how to play Minecraft.

Yn_gamelife: I was playing

Landonorris: I was busy making her blush.

Yn_lifegame: LANDO PLSSS

Landonorris: What?

Landonorris: Mate I didn't know u even knew Minecraft

charles_leclerc: I’m not that ignorant.

Yn_lifegame: Really Charli? ❤️ Like to author

F1lover: Lando's face is resigned

Lan_:Yes, he's the rich one in the couple, and yet she has the more expensive setup.

Yn_norris: Bro she is also very famous

Game.yn: She probably earns as much as Lando.

Yn.lifegame

Description: Ok guys this is my beautiful creation. Did I win the challenge?

liked by Yn:gamelife, charles_leclerc and other 293932892

Ynnnnn.; O my God is Lando?

Yn_norris: Yn, you beat him

charles_leclerc: Someone call Lando and tell him he owes a full day under Yn’s command

❤️ Like to author

Landonorris: shut up mate

Oscarpiastri: Yn, can you create me too, please?

❤️ Like to author

Yn_lifegame: Immediately teddy bear

Ln4_81: YN???

georgerussell63: Don’t worry, it’s all normal (Could you create me too?) ❤️ Like to author

Landonorris: Don’t load up work on my poor girl

Yn_gamelife: The only one getting stressed today is you.

Landonorris; You know I love you so much?

Yn_gamelife: You know flattering me won’t work

Yn_gamelife

Description: Him before, him during, him after (he thinks he’s super sexy).

liked by Yn:gamelife, charles_leclerc and other 293932892

F1lover: He looks like a model in the last photo

❤️ Like to author

Lando4norris_: The Spider-Man suit boosted his self-esteem ❤️ Like to author

Yn_gamelife: He was so happy and incredibly stunning.

Landonorris: I should dress as Spider-Man every day ❤️ Like to author

N4: Wait, why are they dressed like that?

Yn_Norris: Because Lando lost a bet to Yn, and she made him go around Monaco dressed as Spider-Man.

charles_leclerc: Alex and I saw you, you looked ridiculous

Landonorris: Did you guys passed out?

charles_leclerc: No? and I'm honestly scared to ask why

Landonorris: Because we were freaking awesome ❤️ Like to author

Yn_gamelife: Guys, Lando has officially gone crazy

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #fanfiiction #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x you #lando x reader #lando norris #ln4

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bamboozledbird · 4 months ago

Text

Written in the Stars // Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader Pairing: Stiles x Reader, Stiles x You (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5k Tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, i love my men nerdy and desperate, all characters are over 19, my vibe is it's like their sophomore or junior year of college Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, unprotected pnv (terrible advice, babes, don't listen to these idiots)

Request: stiles smut plssss!!! anything fluffy??? A/N: request mixed with a lil bit of an old work to ease me into my first smut. still coming across virginities at 27, and that is really something. s/o to the anon who requested it lmao.

Stiles’s childhood bedroom is an assortment of Star Wars paraphernalia, baseball posters, and bundles of wrinkled flannels squeezed to fit within four faded blue walls. There are a few books stacked on top of his desk, coated in a thin layer of dust from the semester away from home, and little plastic stormtroopers stand at attention on his dresser corners. It smells a little musty in his room, a little like damp earth, but you’ve always liked that smell. You especially like how his cologne smells here—like spice, like fallen leaves, like Christmas morning.

“The curtains are blackout,” Stiles says. He pulls the heavy navy curtains over the window facing the small backyard. The grass is yellowing from the cold of winter, and the air is crisp with the same bitter chill. You shiver and burrow further into the sweatshirt you’d somehow commandeered long before you and Stiles were a we. A few flecks of dust float off the plaid bedding when he sits down on his bed. He looks up at you and grins at the sleeves hanging limply below your fingers, “Flip off the light.”

You turn off the light and shut the door. It’s dark inside the room now—almost completely black. What little remains of the sun is gone, and now you can only see the glow-in-the-dark stars sticky-tacked to the ceiling. “You must have taken a lot of people up here,” you hum, grinning at him coyly over your shoulder. You’re not quite sure if he can make out the glint in your eyes under the pale fluorescent glow, but you’d like to think he can. Either way, you’re sure he knows.

Stiles laughs easily and scoots himself down to the edge of his bed, “Why?”

“For kissing,” you say, matter-of-factly, but you’re still grinning. You make your way towards him, and your prowl is far less smooth than you’d like it to be—the piles of books and a couple month’s worth of dirty laundry make an already difficult path downright hazardous. You count it as a win when you end up in his lap without tripping on anything, “Doesn’t everyone want to be kissed under the stars?”

His hands, his wonderfully large and veiny hands, find their way to your hips. It’s instinct for him, reflexive at this point, and here in the dark it feels like the only thing he knows. You can feel his grin against your neck, “Do you?”

You hum, playing coy, and absently curl your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, thick and curling a bit at the ends. It’s grown out over the last few months. He’s been too busy with studying for finals and working at the library to bother getting it cut. You like it like this, long enough to hold onto, long enough to yank. “I like the stars,” you sigh—so close to his mouth, but not touching—and then you pull back, smiling fondly when you see his mouth is already puckered. “Tell me about ‘em.”

Stiles groans and falls onto his back, pulling you down with him. You end up tucked against his side, shivering as he slides his hand under your sweatshirt to trace a feathery line up and down your back. “That’s like the worst possible genre for innuendo. I can’t woo you while I’m David Attenborough-ing about astrology.”

You smile against his shoulder, and he yelps when you nip at his skin through his thread-bare t-shirt. “You like a challenge.”

He wraps a strand of your hair around his finger and pulls a little, just hard enough to tip into a reprimand. It’s at least half the reason you turn into a brat when he’s this close. “There’s Andromeda,” he hums against the top of your head, pointing towards a small cluster of stars. “Those are supposed to be her legs, and that’s her head, and the ones over there are her arms—fuckin’ uneven, I know. I think that side kinda looks like she’s holding out one of those canes with tennis balls on t—”

You smile and knock your head into his chin lightly, “Wooing, Stiles.”

He tugs on your hair again and swears under his breath when a little whimper tumbles past your lips. “Anyway, she’s next to Perseus—who looks a lot more like Patrick than a demigod. I mean, look at him; his body type is like…something between Dorito and spanakopita.” You laugh, and Stiles squeezes you closer to his side, tangles your legs together, and kisses the tip of your nose like he just can’t help himself. “Story goes, Andromeda's mom royally pissed off Poseidon, so he sent a sea monster to destroy her kingdom—as one does when someone’s talking shit.”

“Naturally,” you hum as you reach for the hand he has cupped around your waist.

“Naturally,” Stiles agrees, nodding against the crown of your head. You try not to get too distracted by the length of his fingers, bending them and straightening them out one at a time, as he carries on with the story, “So Andromeda’s mom is up there with the titans of bad parents—like right next to Vader and every Disney step-mom ‘cause she fuckin’ ties Andromeda to a rock as a sacrifice for the mo—” He sucks in a shallow breath through his teeth when you start kissing along the row of his knuckles, first little soft brushes that almost tickle and then a few lingering ones that wet his skin. He swears again and ever-so slowly shifts his hips against the thigh tucked between his legs. You take pity on him and rest your entwined hands in the small gap between your breastbone and his ribs. His exhale is warm against your forehead, “Obviously, Perseus swoops in at the last minute, slays the beast, gets the girl, etcetera, etcetera.”

Humming, you tip your chin up against his chest and look at him through your lashes, “What happens during etcetera, etcetera?”

“I think,” Stiles rolls over so that he’s on top of you, bracing his weight on his forearms, caging you in delightfully close to his broad chest, “something like this.”

You forget about the game for a minute when he starts mouthing at your skin with just the right amount of teeth. His hair, adorably messy and sticking up in little patches from your fingers, tickles the hinge of your jaw. “Didn’t Perseus kill Medusa?” you mumble, head tipping back into the mattress, eyes closed.

“Uh,” Stiles keeps kissing along your neck, obviously distracted by the hitches in your breath and the soft sighs you let out when he breathes against spit-slick skin, “yeah?”

You can feel the heaviness of his whine against your mouth when you pull away, blinking up at him with big, round eyes—the picture of innocence. A little lamb, an unplucked daisy, a gossamer butterfly wing, entirely unaware of the raging hard-on pressed against your inner thigh. His skin is warm through his shirt, so warm you feel it on your legs when you wrap them around his waist. “While she was sleeping?”

“Uh huh,” Stiles slides a hand up your thigh. The other one is pressed into the mattress, and the muscles in his forearm flex under his full weight. You’re pretty sure he’d agree with anything you say like this.

Unfortunately for the pulsing between your legs, you’ve fallen victim to your own ruse. Your head tilts as you recall all the unsavory details of the Medusa myth, “After she was literally assaulted by his dad?”

Stiles drops his head against your chest and groans, “You’re killing me, baby.”

You grin and curl your fingers in his hair, petting him gently and squeezing your thighs against his hips, “Tell me another one.”

He sighs and rolls over, starfishing his right arm and leg over the edge of the bed with a dramatic flop. “We’ll skip Orion and the seven girls he stalked.”

“Smart choice,” you hum and snuggle into his side. His chest is firm from hours of trying to lift enough to play lacrosse with werewolves, but it still makes for a nice pillow. Stiles’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you swallow back the purr rising in your throat for his sake. He’s been so good for you, after all. You don’t want the torture to be too painful.

“And the swan-fucker,” he adds, scratching lightly at your scalp.

“What?”

Stiles ignores your wide eyes, smirking, and continues playing with your hair, “Altair and Vega. That’s a good one.” In the blanket of darkness and under the strain of yearning, his voice sounds soft and crackly, like one of those singers in the black and white movies, the ones that dance with the microphone. “Starts with a gorgeous, sexy, incredibly charitable goddess falling for a lowly mortal,” his grin is sly as he hikes your thigh over his, squeezing just under your ass, “a lot like us.”

“Boo. Awful.” You pull a face as he drops a flurry of kisses over your cheeks, nose, chin—your laughing mouth, “Disgusting. I’m disgusted.”

His fingers dip into the waistband of your leggings, tauntingly close to just where you want him, “You don’t feel disgusted.”

Now, that won’t do. You’re just getting started. You trap his hand with your thighs and tap your finger against the slope of his upturned nose, “Finish the story.”

Stiles whines a little and then sighs, returning the palm of his hand to the little dip above your hip. “Her dad is disgusted that she wants to bring a loser human home, so he turns them into stars on opposite sides of the galaxy.”

Frowning, you squint at the collection of stars he’d pointed to. They don’t look so far apart on his bedroom ceiling. “That’s…depressing.”

“It’s not over yet,” Stiles pulls on your hair and does his best to look annoyed, but the nip to your bottom lip feels far more like a reward than a punishment, “hush.” He waits a minute for you to comply—or, more likely, not comply—and you settle back on his chest and arch your brow, waiting. He arches his brow right back and then keeps going, “One day a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, Altair fills the galaxy with his tears, and every bird in the sky makes a bridge with their wings so that they can spend one more night together.”

The corner of your mouth tugs into a little grin, “That is a good one.” You trace little patterns on his bicep, little swirls and stars, and rest your chin on his shoulder so that you can see his pretty face, “But just for the story. Only one night a year would kill me.”

“Baby,” Stiles clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth and shakes his head like he's disappointed, bottom lip jutting out slightly from under his top, “it'd take a helluva lot more than a couple light-years and an immortal father-in-law to keep me from getting to you.”

It’s such a line, but the dopey grin he gives you while he says it somehow makes it charming. Maybe you’re just a little bit lovesick. Okay, maybe a lot. “You can kiss me n—”

He’s on you before you can finish, but you don’t mind being interrupted when he's slanting his mouth against yours just right and groaning into your sighs with a gravelly pitch that makes your toes curl. “Fuck me,” Stiles sighs. He dips back in before you can quip something bratty, something that would definitely earn you another yank on your hair—later perhaps.

You straddle his waist, sit back in the cradle of his pelvis, and lace your fingers together on the mattress against the sides of his head. He whimpers. You curse. “Off,” you mutter against his mouth, tugging petulantly on the hem of his t-shirt. Stiles is quick to comply, like always, but the fabric gets stuck around his shoulders. You let him struggle for a minute, just long enough to hear more of those petulant little whines. When you finally help him wrangle his shirt over his head, you’re up close and personal with his mouth. His lips are pretty—swollen, pink, and shiny with salvia and your lip balm—and you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to bite. You toss his shirt somewhere on the floor behind you and lean down, your chest pressed against his. You can feel his heartbeat stutter, like a rabbit in a trap, when you stroke your thumb over his bottom lip. It’s soft and wet against your finger, and you sigh high in your throat, “Pretty.”

His chest warms, and you wish you had more light to admire the flush spreading from his neck to his cheeks. You know it’s pink and pretty too, but you’d enjoy seeing the proof. “Pretty?” Stiles echoes, cocking his head slightly, and slides his hands from your ass to your hips. He continues his path along the sides of your ribcage with the bottom of your sweatshirt bunched between his fingers.

“Pretty,” you nod, sharp and definitive. You sit up a little so that Stiles can pull your hoodie off, and then it’s lost to the dark abyss. Frankly, you aren’t that worried about if you ever see it again. You can always steal another one after you’re done.

He shakes his head and runs his hands over your torso, your collarbones, your stomach, just under your tits—he can’t see that well in the dim light, so he’s damn well going to see you the only way he can. “Pretty,” Stiles groans, cupping your tits and gently thumbing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your cotton bra. It’s simple, white, unadorned by lace or a pattern—and it’s sexier than it has any right to be, he thinks. He’s eager to rip it off.

You shudder through the entire length of your spinal column, through all the nerves attached, and arch into his touch, “Yeah?”

He coos, and your nipples pebble in response. It’s embarrassing but soon forgotten when Stiles cups your face, big hands encompassing almost the entire length of your jaw, and whispers, “Pretty girl. My pretty baby.”

It’s even more embarrassing how quickly you feel your underwear dampen under the scrutiny of some simple praise. Now, you’re whining, and he’s letting out a string of guttural, “Fuck,”s as you grind down against the increasingly painful bulge in his jeans. Your nails leave little pink lines along the sculpted v of his pelvis, just deep enough to sting a bit—enough to send his head back towards his shoulders. He sits up a little more so that he can grip your hips, holding them still as he catches his breath, and you’re only a little ashamed of the way you mewl his name in protest. Stiles shuts you up with a kiss and shakes his head, “Can’t come in my pants like I’m 17 again. That’s the worst possible ending to our constellation. Like a 1/10, definitely certified rotten.”

You grin against his throat, and he swallows at the sharp press of your teeth. “Oh, I don’t think that’s the worst ending. Wouldn’t the worst be the one where you don’t come at all?”

Stiles’s fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you down firmly against his lap, like he’s scared you’ll get up and leave him with a weeping cock and teary eyes. “Baby, don’t even joke about that. That’s a billion times worse than letting a sea monster rip me in half.”

“Guess you can split me in half then,” you shrug a little, and Stiles goes taut under you, fingertips flexing into the small of your back, “unless you want me to tie you to a rock. I’d be into that.”

He growls in your ear, nipping at your jaw and flipping you onto your back. You laugh, a little breathless, as you bounce back on the mattress from the force of it. “Definitely wanna split you in half,” Stiles mutters as he shucks off his pants and kneels at the edge of his bed. He starts peeling back your leggings, taking his time to kiss each sliver of skin revealed to him despite the urgency in his eyes, despite the ache in his white-knuckled grip on the buttery martial of your bottoms. “Gonna wreck you,” Stiles promises as he brushes his lips over your ankle a few times. His words are filthy, but his eyes are honey-sweet and lit with nothing but complete and utter devotion—like you really are a goddess in the sky. You’re already wrecked, probably have been since he kissed you for the first time, entirely ruined for anyone else.

“Did’ya know that Vega is brighter than Altair,” he says, quiet and reverent as he drops your leggings. You blink at him, a bit dumbly, but it’s his own fault for trying to have a conversation while he’s sliding your legs over his shoulders and fiddling with the hem of your underwear. “By, like, 5 places? I think? That’s us too—can’t even look at you sometimes,” he hums, warm against your wet cunt, and hooks his thumbs around your panties. You shudder, and he smiles. You aren’t quite sure if he’s talking to you or to the glistening flesh he reveals when he yanks the baby pink cotton to the side. Either way, you understand his dilemma. It’s torture to watch him sometimes. You have to close your eyes when the pink tip of his tongue darts out, wetting his lip, tasting the air.

There’s a sigh. So soft. Really more of an exhale, and you aren’t sure where it came from. It could’ve been you, or him, or the stars. “You talk a lot,” this time you know the sigh is coming from you.

Stiles smirks a little and slips his thumb inside your panties, swiping through your slick folds like he’s fingerpainting, “Is that a complaint?”

Your hips stutter, and his other hand is quick to clamp down on your skin, stopping any attempts to skitter away from his light touch. “I love it when you talk,” you hum, leaning up onto your elbows so that you can watch him work. He grins up at you, almost shy, and presses down against your clit. A wet gasp bursts through swollen lips as your back arches, and Stiles isn’t so shy when he bends down to drop a gentle kiss over his thumb. “But I, uh,” you brush your fingers through the dark hair flopping over his forehead and squeeze your eyes shut when his kisses become kitten licks, “I also love it when you use your mo—” His finger (his long, gifted finger) slides into your cunt with an embarrassing squelch, and his lips wrap around your clit as he sucks. “That,” you whine, back arching a little until Stiles spreads his fingers over your stomach and presses down, “I also love it when you do that.”

His laugh vibrates deliciously against all the places he’s trying to devour, and you think it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go—being eaten alive by your gorgeous boyfriend. He pulls back to slip another finger in your pussy, spreading them just enough to burn in the best way, and then he’s prodding at the spot inside you that sends a jolt up your spine—makes your fingers wind in the bedspread, pull on his hair, fly to your mouth when you start to cry a little. It didn’t used to be like this. Sex. Getting fingered, fucked, even eaten out—it never felt like this before him. It’s…overwhelming, sometimes. Most of the time, actually. You keep waiting to get used to it, for the newness, the discovery of it all, to wear off. Hasn’t happened yet. You don’t think it ever will. Certainly not tonight.

“Good?” Stiles licks his lips, at the glistening corners of his mouth, and you toss your head back—overwhelmed. “Good,” he concludes, and he’s not even smug about it. More like he’s making a note in one of his case files, something to look back on later when he needs it. He’s quick about getting what little remains of your clothes off, and when he crawls on top of you, you’re immensely grateful for it. Skin on skin, nothing quite like it. Quick romps in the jeep, up against alley walls, the sink of the occasional bar bathroom—all fun, but not nearly as satisfying as being completely pressed against his naked body, completely caged in by his large frame. Sappy, maybe, but it feels dirty when he drags the tip of his cock through your folds. When he bumps against your clit, you mewl and dig your nails into his back. He sucks in sharply and buries his face in the crook of your neck, “There’s a condom in th—”

“Forget it,” you whimper, carding your fingers through his hair. It’s a little sweaty where it meets his neck, and it’s so soft, and thick, and perfect, and—he’s stopped breathing against your neck.

He groans from a place deep in his gut, deeper actually, and his arms shake, “Are you su—”

“Yes,” you nod rapidly and wrap your legs around him, arms too, and your fingers join in on the clinging when they twist in his hair. “Absolutely. 1000%. Please don’t make me say please.”

He lets out a little laugh that stirs the hair framing your face, and he traces your cheekbone, barely touching your skin. Your head swims with the look in his eyes: amber, warmth, and worship, “But you’re just so pretty when you beg.” Not that you’ve ever had to for long. Stiles gives you anything you want if you ask him the right way. If you look at him with big, wet eyes, if you jut out your lower lip just so—wet as well, the little lick of your tongue is part of it; that took him months to figure out—he crumbles. He’s said many times that better men than he have fallen victim to far less beautiful schemes.

Stiles kisses the pout off your lips and nudges the tip of his nose over yours, grinning like a drunken idiot, “Told’ya, baby. Not a light-year, definitely not a little latex.” His grin slides into a little ‘o’ when you slither your hand between your bodies and grip his cock, sliding the first inch into your cunt, impatient. “F-fuck—fuck-ing hell,” he grunts and takes over for you, squeezing your hip until it starts to hurt a little. You’d say something, but then he’d stop—and you like the way it aches. You like knowing there will be a bruise. He’ll fret over it later, kiss each mottled spot better a million times, and you like that too. You like being taken care of, almost as much as he likes taking care of you.

When he bottoms out, when his pelvic bone ruts up against you, a long, drawn out whimper spills through your pout. “Yeah? Feels good, baby?” Stiles watches your face closely, brushes away the hair sticking to your forehead, and drops a few kisses on your shut eyelids. You nod, and nod, and nod, until he stops you with another kiss to your lips. He kisses you slowly, presses his tongue against the seam of your lips, and you sigh. The kiss quickly becomes wet and filthy, and you’d be embarrassed by the sound of your tongues sliding together if you could actually hear it. At the moment, all you can hear is his cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy—and that’s definitely sending a dizzying heat up your neck. You don’t worry about it for long when his hips shift and he starts hitting that spot inside you again. After that, neither of you can hear anything over your squealing. Stiles kisses away the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes and licks his lips, chasing the taste. “Right there, huh?” You babble an incoherent answer, and he strokes your hair and noses at your cheek, “Yeah, right there. I know. It’s okay.”

Stiles slides his hands under your back and sits up, taking you with him. The new angle is impossibly deep, and you bite down on his shoulder and wind your arms around his neck to keep yourself there. With him. In the moment. “It’s okay, baby. I got you, promise,” he squeezes your hips, and despite his reassurances and the strength of his grip, you know he’s falling apart too. He’s close. You can feel it. His hips stutter a little, change direction, lose their dedicated pace—and it’s perfect because you’re right there with him. It’s been building for a while, probably since he led you by hand to his room, maybe even before that when he smirked at you behind his cup of tequila and (mostly) pineapple juice.

You cry a little and bite down on your bottom lip, hard. Stiles kisses the sting away, and your eyes screw shut as you start babbling again, “I’m—”

He kisses you again and lifts his hands from your hips to cup your face, thumbing along your bottom lip when he pulls back—not far, just enough to look at your face, shiny with sweat and tears. “I know,” he stills for a moment, pausing the movement of his hips so that he can just feel you pulsing around him for a moment, “me too.” You aren’t sure if you want to hit him or kiss him for stopping, but you don’t have the strength to do either when he starts what must be his final round of thrusts. It has to be—you’re a few seconds away from collapsing or coming, whichever comes first. When Stiles moans your name in your ear, soft and high like he does when he’s right there, and he slides his hand down your stomach to rub firm circles on your clit, you’re happy it’s your orgasm that happens first. Your abs convulse a little as you twitch around him, and you curl in on yourself as much as you can with Stiles in the way. He’s not in the way for long. Growling, he shoves you back against the bed and mumbles, “Where?” after a few sloppy thrusts.

You mewl as he keeps the pressure on your clit, reach for his wrist and try to pull his hand away, but he’s determined and you’re tired. You twitch and throw your head back, whimpering, “Inside,” before you can think better of it. It’s his fault, you’ll decide later, for prolonging your high with his mean, unforgiving, wonderful thumb.

He’ll blame you, for feeling so perfect around him—for fluttering, and leaking, and trembling better than…anything he’s ever seen in porn, and he’s watched...a lot of it, so he’s a bit of an expert on the cinematic orgasm. “You’re so fuckin—you,” he shakes his head against your heaving chest and groans, “you’re everything.” And when he finally comes in you, you’re okay with taking the blame for something that feels so good. He manages a few more thrusts, and then he finally lets you pull his hand away from your cunt when he collapses onto his forearms, barely holding himself up from crushing you with his full weight. You’d tell him to roll over, but then he’d be over there and not in you, so you put up with the sweat and heaviness while your head spins.

“Baby?” Stiles hums noncommittally in response to your soft prodding, and you smirk against the top of his head. All the smugness leaves you when you finally feel the foreign sensation of his cum leaking out of you. Shuddering, you kiss his hair a few times and scratch up and down his back lightly until he’s able to breathe normally. He pushes himself up onto his arms and glances down when he pulls out, staring for a moment at the way your pussy gapes a bit, watching the trickle of cum drip down your folds and onto the bed. He rubs his hand over his jaw and licks his lips, shaking his head—at a loss for words for the first time in his life. Your tongue is a little thick when you fill the void for him, “Next time, towel first.”

He finds it within himself to tear his eyes away from your cunt and gives you a crooked little grin, “Next time?”

You roll your eyes, but your grin is stupid with affection, “Sure, next time. Maybe. If you’re good.”

It’s a little disgusting, the way he just rolls over and pulls you on top of him with absolutely no regard for the various bodily fluids sticking to your skin, but you forget about the unpleasantness of drying cum and cooling sweat when he kisses you. “I’m always good,” he huffs against your cheek. You shoot him a look, brows arched and eyes narrowed, and he smirks, “Okay, maybe not, but I’m always good for you.”

You nuzzle in a little closer and scoff, but it’s true. Stiles is so good, always—especially for you. “I guess you did manage to woo me. You’re very sexy when you’re talkin’ astrology, you know that?”

He smiles, wide and happy, and wiggles his brows, “An absolute banger of an ending, right? I don’t think they could chart it in the stars without ruining your pretty face, but that’s probably for the best.” Stiles brushes his fingers over your lips when you let out a little questioning hum and takes your hand, growling playfully as he nibbles at your fingertips, “You’re mine. Nobody’s allowed to see you like this but me—definitely not horny little nerds with their telescopes.”

You grin and bump your nose against his, “You’re a horny little nerd with a telescope.”

Stiles tips his head with a sly grin, and you already know what he’s going to say—it’s still devastatingly adorable when he whispers, “No, I’m your horny little nerd with a telescope.”

Adorable enough to make you consider pulling him into the shower with you, and if the heavy-lidded look he’s giving you is anything to go by, you’d say he agrees.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #dylan o'brien imagine #stiles stilinski fic #teen wolf fanfiction

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sunsburns · 9 months ago

Note

Plssss write something wehere reader and virgin Luke fuck

[nsfw 17+]

no need to tell me twice! this is sooo obviously loser!luke coded and i'm glad he's back in my corner. and let's be honest, he wouldn't have a damn clue where to put his hands the entire time...

luke just wants to touch you, all of you. and it makes you smile when you feel his hands trail from your cheeks, your neck, down your shoulders, and once he felt a little braver, he'd grasp at your chest, brows furrowed, and lips parted.

your skin is warm, and the weight of his hands on you has you mewling. you drop your head and look down at him. luke can barely keep his eyes open, but when you bring your hand to his chin, tilting his head up, he tries to look at you.

luke's eyes are glossy, clouded by a lustful haze. his curls stick to his forehead, a thin coat of sweat against his skin while soft, low groans spill from his lips.

you let out a breathless laugh, running your finger through his hair as you roll your hips. "f-fuck..."

he's panting, his hands running from your chest to your waist, then your hips, and shyly creeping near your ass, but not quite there. you kiss his teeth and lick into his mouth, grinning when he tries to follow your lips when you back away the slightest bit.

"c'mon, luke..." you huff, pressing your forehead against his. "i've been doin' all the work, care to help a girl out?"

he's bottomed out, buried inside you as you rock your hips against his. you hold onto his shoulders for support, legs aching, but the pretty sounds that slip from his lips make it all worth it.

it's been ungraceful and clumsy, wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's mouth. you wished it could've been a little more coordinated, especially after you spent a couple of days looking for a spot you knew no one else would find you and luke in. a clearing far enough from the camp, but close enough where you could still see the lake, where the grass was softer, and none of the trees had any stranded arrows or carvings from the blade of a sword or a knife.

the sun beat down on the two of you, hot and golden, tanning your skin while luke can barely look at you without becoming flustered.

"what..." he's staring at your lips, "what do i do? what do you want me to do?"

he's trying his best, you'll give him that. it makes you smile against his mouth nonetheless.

"put your hands here," you guide his palms back to your hips, and you give them a squeeze, "and hold tight. i want you to move your hips, baby."

luke nods, a bright red hue on his cheeks when you kiss him again. his hips roll into yours, and a drawled curse falls from his open mouth. luke pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour it; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out.

you raise your hips the next time he pulls out, meeting in the middle when he fills you back up. his hips slot against yours once more before he pulls away from you so he can suck in a breath and-

"shit. you're so- fuck." he shudders, eyes squeezed shut.

you can hardly breathe, the sun is too hot, and the air is too humid, but luke feels so good, even if each one of his thrusts was so uncoordinated you had to try to roll your hips against him again so he could find a rhythm. it was half-grinding, half-fucking, and a delicious drag of the curve of his cock against your walls. yeah, you could do this forever.

"feels so good, luke." you moan, a little louder than you hoped when luke finally built the courage to grab your ass. "you feel so good. don't stop."

"don't wanna," he can barely get the words out. he's trying to kiss your neck but misses, and his teeth knock against your collarbone, the beads of your camp necklace hitting his nose. his jaw clenches tightly, "fuuuck."

one of his hands slides up the span of your back until it reaches the back of your neck, fingers ghosting below your hairline. you get a good look at him, he's a little bolder now, eyes wider, but brows still furrowed. luke licks his lips and lets them fall into a soft pout, a broken moan escaping him once he realizes you're staring.

"gonna cum, luke?"

he's nodding, his curly hair falling over his eyes as his hips buck at the sound of your voice. "yeah... yeah, yes."

you almost feel bad when you push him by the chest until his back falls onto the blanket. he stares at you, surprised, maybe, face unreadable as you lean down over him and whisper, "you're gonna have to work a little harder for it."

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke’s cabin #faye’s writing ✧˖*°࿐

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zweiginator · 5 months ago

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facesitting w patrick plssss

oh and what if patrick and tashi were together! you are tashi's roommate. she kicks you out a lot, when patrick comes to visit. which has been more and more frequent. but you're always a good sport.

tashi likes you a lot. she says you're fun and a great friend, not to mention you're gorgeous. it's like she's taunting patrick. he feels uncomforable when she brings it up. of course, he thinks you're beautiful. anybody with two working eyes can see that. but he's tashi's. it feels like walking into a glue trap to tell her that he agrees with her. that yeah, you're super hot.

she brings it up more and more to patrick.

"do you want her to join us or something?" you're in class; patrick and tashi are laying in tashi's bed together. she's straddling him in nothing but her bra.

"she's shy. with sexual stuff."

patrick teases her. "how do you know? you try to fuck her when i'm gone?"

"no--i try to set her up on dates. plenty of boys on the tennis team like her. she refuses."

"maybe she wants you." he pinches tashi's side, and she slaps his arm.

"i dunno."

"so then, why bring it up to me? i'm your boyfriend, remember." he says it like a true reminder.

tashi shrugs. always so blunt. "i think the best thing to get her out of her shell would be to make her feel sexy."

"so we have a threesome?"

"no." tashi, tilts his chin up, looks at patrick's pretty pink pout.

"you eat her pussy. make her feel like a goddess."

"you're asking your boyfriend to eat another girl's pussy?" patrick sits up on his elbows. "why?"

she doesn't truly answer. "i've seen you ogle her before. do you want to or not?"

"tash, i think we gotta get her in on it first."

but once tashi gets her mind on something, she can't stop thinking about it. maybe it's a perverted little fantasy for her to have, watching her strong boyfriend eat out her innocent little roommate.

she really does think it would help her blossom, get rid of her sexual repression. when patrick's face is in her pussy it makes her feel like a god.

so she brings it up, while patrick is visiting art and some more friends of theirs. tashi stayed behind for this specific reason.

tashi sits next to you on the bed. "so, what do you think about patrick?" she asks.

you blush, almost imperceptibly so. but tashi notices. of course you find him attractive--who wouldn't? but he is tashi's boyfriend. you can't compete with tashi--you don't want to.

"i think he's great for you. you guys match each other really well. just seems--natural."

tashi leans in, tilting your chin up. "i asked what you think about him. how does he make you feel?"

you shrug. "um, i like him. he's fun to be around."

"do you want him to touch you?"

you don't understand what's happening. why you're weirdly turned on, thinking about patrick but also listening to tashi's voice. how she's rubbing your back. tashi doesn't seem upset at all. in fact, it seems like she wants this. like she's egging it on.

"i mean, i definitely think he's attractive." you don't know what to say.

tashi's hand finds your knee. "what if i told you patrick and i talked about you. about helping you out."

"helping me out with what?"

"your confidence. you know, he thinks you're a very pretty girl. i do too."

it makes your cunt feel fluttery, hearing her say that.

"i would like that, i think."

"i think you would too."

that night, patrick and tashi get home from dinner. they invited you, but you politely declined, lying about some other plans you had.

you're in pajama shorts and a tank top, doing some homework. you try not to react to them coming in; your heart beats faster and you're nervous--but excited.

you feel patrick sit next to you, on tashi's desk chair. tashi is sitting on her bed, watching. arms crossed, she's not cold, but it almost looks like she's coaching patrick. he wants this too, of course, but he wouldn't be doing this if not for his girlfriend's pushing.

he pushes your hair out of the way, exposing your neck.

"what are you working on?" he's leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. he looks big and strong; maybe you didn't realize just how manly he had become since you met him last year.

"english essay." you say. your fingers hover over your keyboard.

patrick leans forward, easily pulling you into his lap. you don't know where to put your hands, but patrick's are resting on your ass, the middle of your back.

"is this okay? do you like this?"

you nod, fervently. he kisses your neck; it feels like he's worshipping you, and you feel tashi's eyes on you. but she's not jealous, she's excited.

tilting your head back, you tangle your fingers in patrick's hair, it's tacky with product, and you grip it hard. his kisses become deeper and you feel him swipe his tongue under your jaw to soothe the mark he just made. now he moves to your lips. god, he tastes good. you've only kissed two boys in your whole life. you instinctively grind against patrick's clothed cock and you feel him smile against you.

"this is about you. you can use me. however you want."

you nod, not knowing exactly what he means or what you want. it's lazy, your grinding. but it feels so good. patrick moves you to the bed easily and lays down. realizes he's going to have to guide you. god, you're so fucking cute.

now tashi is closer. she is sitting at the desk chair. you both watch as patrick peels his shirt off. tashi is used to it, but you whimper. you touch his chest, run a finger over his abs.

"he's really pretty." you tell tashi. it's almost innocent how you say it. almost.

"he is, isn't he."

patrick is so hard it fucking hurts. he wants to push your head down on his cock, wants to stretch you open, fill you up. but that's not what he's here for. it almost makes it feel better. knowing he's being used like this.

patrick unties your little shorts. kisses your shoulder as he moves the strap of your tank top down. your instinct is to cover up. but they won't let you.

"so pretty. let us see you."

you trust them. and you want them. so you let them.

he peels your underwear off, pulls your shirt over your head. and he admires you.

"i've got the two most perfect girls right here."

you moan and whimper and sigh as his thumb rolls your nipple, his other hand playing with your pussy. you're so wet, soaking the sheets.

you don't know what he's doing. he lays down flat on the bed. his erection is barely hidden underneath his little red shorts. tells you to sit on his face.

you do what you think he means.

"like this?" you look down at him. his mouth is visibly watering; your cunt is so close to his lips.

"just like this." his arms snake around your legs, hands feel up your body. and it feels like heaven when his lips wrap around your clit. his tongue moves slowly at first. the moans coming from his mouth feel good against your pussy and he tells you how good you taste.

"fuck, your little cunt is soaking my face."

tashi is still watching. she has barely blinked. "it really is."

"sorry." you say.

"that's a good thing. you're a good girl." and he slaps your ass. you didn't think you'd like that, but you buck your hips and grind on patrick's tongue like a reflex.

"that's right. fucking use me." he kisses your inner thigh.

so you use his mouth, grind on it. you're pulling his hair and running your hands down his torso because god, it's so hot how hard he is, how you see him twitch when your hand moves closer.

patrick knows you're about to cum. your legs are shaking just like tashi's do. but you're tense, like you don't want to let go.

"cum for me. i want you to."

your breathing is shallow as he sucks on your clit again. harder and harder. his mouth is so warm. but you're moaning so loud tashi gets nervous about someone coming to check on them. so she kisses you as you cum. your fingers tangle into her hair and your mouth hangs open.

patrick looks like he just died and went to heaven. and now, his shorts are wet.

#ask #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #challengers smut #patrick zweig x reader x tashi duncan #lowkey went off on this

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cherry-luvz · 2 months ago

Text

Cockwarming with K.MJ.

Genre - Smut and fluff.

Warning- G!P Minji, just cockwarming, Don't be a dud- wrap your bud.

Paring - GP!loser!Minji x gf!fem!reader.

Synopsis - Its winter, and Minji needs warming up. You’re her only option.

Word count - 1.4K

MINJI - Red.

READER - White.

It was a chill einter eveling and Uni had just broken off for two weeks of holiday to enjoy Christmas with loved ones.

You where on your phone when you got a text, It was around 07:45PM when your phone pinged you decided to check as saw that it was your gf texting you.

Min Min 💬

-> Baby? 🤭

-> Yes, minji?😑

-> Can u come over, to my place? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

-> no. 😾

-> PLSSSSSSS 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

-> still no, Its freezing cold outside! 💀💀 I ain’t walking in that cold ur crazy ☠️☠️

-> PLSSSS BABY PLSS!! 😿😿

-> Give me one gd reason y I should go to ur house..😑😑

-> Bc yk 😏😏

-> Ik? Wdym..? 🥸

-> 🙇🏻‍♀️🙆🏻‍♀️ ❤️😏

-> 😰😰😰😰😰

-> so watcha say bbg? 😼😼😼

-> nty I’m gd fr 😊👍

-> 😔😔😔😔 please love 🥺

-> Bro u just wanna get freaky min.😑

-> That’s not true! 😞

-> Yh sure. 🙄

-> please!! I’ll give cuddles..! 😖❤️

-> U promise? 😑

-> I prowmiss🥺

-> Fine i’ll come but u have to come pick me up.😑

-> YAYYY.. wait do I really..?😽😦

-> yh u do i ain’t walking in the snow🙄.

-> okay okay i’ll be there in 40😖.

-> aww ty see ya!

-> See u soon bbg, luv u😽��

-> Ily too ❤️

You sighed and got up from your bed, you put on a pink skirt, nude coloured tights, a crop top, a white puffer jacket with a scarf and you small bag which held your phone, lipstick, lipgloss, Vaseline, mini perfume and your purse.

You styled your hair and then put on log warmers with socks then you put on your Ugg’s. You grabbed your keys and exit your apartment complex

It was snowing outside and you waited for your gf to pick you up as she said she would. Around 10 - 15 mintes later a black BMW pulled up in front of you.

The person rolled down the window, “Hey baby, hop in..” She said with a smile and leaned over to the passenger side opening the door.

“New car..?” You said, climbing into her car.

You then closed the door and put on your seat belt, “Yeah, my nice new sweat baby!..”

“Hmm but I thought i was your baby.?” You pouted looking up at her as she put her hand on your knee, her touch was cold, you shivered.

“You are, but this is my like.. ‘car’..”she said and you nodded.

You looked out the window, watching the snow fall, Minji had her left hand on the wheel and her right on your lap.

40 MINUTES LATER

Minji parked outside the gate, minji was from a wealthy family so she lived in the luxury apartment.

You watched as she beeped a black card and ths gates open. “We’ll be at my place soon..” She said gently gripping your thigh.

You nodded, “Okay..”

She drove for another 5-10 minutes and you guys reached a huge luxury apartment. “Were here baby..” she said as she parked the car in the in the parking lot.

You undo your seat belt at the same time she does hers, she got up and got out of the car doing a quick jog to your side opening the door for you.

“Thanks luv,” You said getting out as you held her hand, “Ha anything for my princess..”

She closed the door and you waited for her to lock the door, she then took your hand and you guys walked into the building.

After a few minutes You where at your gf’s house, she took off your shoes for you, put on your puffer jacket down as well ad you’re scarf and sat next to you.

Minji were cold from the snow so she shivered, you look at her. “You cold.?” You asked her and she yawned.

“Yeah.. i’m freezing..” she leaned back in her chair and you looked at her, she the smirked looking at your thighs.

She like you wearing skirts, it was a complete turn of for her. You looked her hear, feeling her gaze on yo, “What are you looking at, luv?”

She wrapped her arm around your waist, squeezing it gently. “I love your skirt baby~” she said looked at you with a smirk.

“Perv.” You muttered as your face heated up, she chuckled. “But you love it don’t you..?”

You did, you did love it. You felt as she pulled you closer, her gaze going towards your lips. “Mhm so soft..” she rubbed the bottom of your lips.

You blushed as she came closer, leaning in to kiss you. As you guys lips met you blushed even more, you felt as she pulled you into her lap making you straddle her.

You guys continued to kiss as she placed her hands on your waist while you had your hands on her shoulders. She pulled away and smiled at you, “You’re so pretty baby, but I’m a little cold.. you wouldn’t mind cock warming me?”

You felt the boner she had your breath hitched. “I-i..” you stumbled over your words. “..o-okay..” she smiled and pulled down her sweatpants.

You looked down as you saw her cock, it was a pretty pink colour. She smiled and kissed your neck.. “A-ah b-baby..” you whimpered as you clutched onto her shirt.

You felt her move your panties to the side and teased her cock to your hole. “Hmm so wet for me princess.. so fucking wet..”

She pushed into you and you sat down on it, “a-ah!” You moaned.

“Fuckkk princess..” she grunted.

You sat there cock warming her, you wanted to move so bad. You felt her hold your hips down not letting you move at all.

You whimpered as you clenched around her, placing your head on her chest. “Oh gosh thats a dangerous game to play bbg..” she said gripping onto your hips.

You clenched again, “Ahhh.. hmmpf..” you moaned.

She gritted her teeth, “if you do that one more time I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk..”

You clenched around her one last time and she, keeping to her words, pinned you down and pulled up your crop top up and sucked on your breast as she pounded into you.

“Hmmpf a-ah! Mommy fuck.. ah” you moaned and your eyes teared up from too much pleasure. “You’re my cock slut isn’t it? Fucking slut.”

You nodded as she continued to pound into your tight cunt, “Ah mhmpf.. mommy..”

“Hmm oh gosh baby..” you felt as she pulled you closer and pounded into you deeper and deeper.

You felt her cock touch your cervix, “Oh gosh ah.. yeah mommy ahh hungggg right there hmpff!!..” your eyes rolled back.

Minji noticed, she had hit your g-spot and continued to do so, “Mhm your so gushy and warm~”

Your mouth formed a ‘o’ shape as you felt a knot in your stomach. She continued to bully her huge cock into you tight cunt, you whimpered and felt her grip getting tighter.

“Hmpf mommy..” you moaned as you felt the knot slowly coming undone. “You gonna cum?” She asked you and you nodded, slowly opening your eyes.

“C-can i cum mommy..? I’ve been hunggnnggg.. a g-good hmpfffff g-girl..” you clenched more onto her shirt.

She leaned down next to your ear, “Hmm go on baby girl, cum for mommy..” she whispered as she moved even faster.

You felt the knot come undone and you cumed, “Oh gosh minji fuck..” your body shivered and you cumed all over her cock which she was still moving in and out of you, letting you ride out your orgasm.

“Now let mommy cum you.. ya?” You nodded and felt as your vision became hazy and she smug, she knows you were brain fucked.

It was a bit sore at first until you felt another orgasm creeping up apron you, “M-mommy i-I’m gonna a-ah cum.. a-ah..a-again..” you mentioned.

“Me too, get ready for mommy’s fat load.” She said as you fell her cock twitch a bit in you.

You felt as her thrusts become more and more sloppy. “H-hmpf.. baby.. mommy’s gonna cum..” she whimpered.

You whimpered, “Fuck cum with me baby..”

And you did so, you felt as her load filled you up as your leg twitched, your cunt throbbing and Minji lying on top of your chest.

She then sat up after catching her breath. “Fuck”

She gently pulled out watching as your pussy gently pushed out you and her’s cum mixed together. She saw the creampie and chuckled.

“Hmm.. best sex ever babe. Loved it..” she said as she put your panties back on. You rolled your eyes and gently sat up, “I feel sticky..” You said and got up but your legs gave away.

Minji quickly caught you. “Gosh..” you muttered.

She chuckled, “Hmm i did really fuck you till you can’t walk..”

313 notes · View notes

cherryredstars · 6 months ago

Note

PLSSSS GIVE US A SECOND PART OF RIBBON

I NEED IIIIIIIIT it gave me 🦋🦋🦋

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Makeshift "Collar", Fluffy Miguel

A/N: Enjoy, my love!!!

Unedited

Part 1

You won't even look at him.

He finds it amusing, tapping his fingers on the desk's surface between the two of you. He knows from your peripheral vision, even as you try to keep your attention on the professor, that you can see his wrist. You can see the pale pink silk contrasting against his rich skin and the black of his jacket. Your pretty pink bow. The same bow that happened to go missing once it was untied from your wrists.

The same bow that has slight discoloring at one end from where it soaked up your smooth arousal not even twenty-four hours ago.

He's wearing it like a prize, proud of what it symbolizes. It isn't just proof that he was able to slip between your pretty thighs, but proof that you own him. It marks him as your territory. Fuck if he doesn't look like a silly school boy, practically radiating from his spot besides you as he absentmindedly fidgets with the smooth material. He doesn't give a fuck about the teasing remarks he got from his friends when they had seen it, could care less about the jealous looks girls have been glaring at the bow. The only reaction he cares about is yours.

Your cheeks are flushed, big doe eyes fluttering as you avert your gaze from him. You squirm in your seat, shifting every now and then in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position that doesn't make you feel hot and stuffy under your pretty clothes. Some part of Miguel hopes all your movement is partially to blame on how sore you are between your legs, trying to distract yourself from not only his wrist, but also the aching hollowness he's left behind from the day before. He can picture it in his mind: you waking up with a cute wince as your inner thighs ached, a plump pout on your lips as you tried to find the bow from yesterday before deciding you don't have time to look for it and rushing out of the house with your hair loose. Or maybe it was a conscious decision, one made after recalling the way Miguel whined into your neck about how pretty your hair looked free and flowing around your shoulders and pillow.

He has to bite back a groan at the thought.

The class ends all too fast in his opinion as the hour and thirty minute lecture comes to a close and you begin to promptly shoot up and put your things away into your tote bag. Then he finds that the class couldn't end soon enough when you go to leave, your small hand barely wrapping around his decorated wrist as you pull him along. His tail is practically wagging as he lets you drag him out of the class, finding it amusing that despite your fast paced steps he has to walk slowly to not trample you. His heart is pounding horribly fast in his chest as you drag him around campus, his skin burning beneath the ribbon until you enter the school library and drag him to the very back.

He almost pouts when you drop his wrist, turning to him with your arms crossed over your chest. His eyes drop there quickly, admiring the way your breasts are pushed up before he looks back at your face. He's not particularly ashamed as you give him a knowing look, a smooth smirk tugging at his lips.

"That's mine."

You say it simply, stating the obvious as you point at the pink on his wrist. Miguel holds his arm up, a faux look of surprise on his face as he twists his hand around to get a good view of it.

"Huh, is it? I can see why you wear them. It looks pretty on me, don't y'think?"

His lips twitch as you let out an exaggerated sigh, your eyes rolling in annoyance. You hold your hand out expectantly, your shoes making a dull thumping noise as it taps against the carpeted flooring. Miguel simply stares at your hand, eyebrows furrowed as he slightly angles his wrist away from you. He's acting like a spoiled child, possessive over his favorite toy. Your eyes narrow, your hand dropping as you groan. You simply don't understand him, he hates you. Yet, he's clinging on to your precious bow.

"Miguel." You sigh, your hand coming up to play with your loose hair as a way to calm down. "You're giving people the wrong idea wearing my bow."

Miguel crosses his arms over his chest too, matching your stance. He straightens up, towering over you as he spreads his feet shoulder width apart.

"I think everyone is getting the right idea."

You quirk your brow shaking your head, "And what idea is that?"

Miguel's cheek flush, but his face stays the same. Serious and determined. He doesn't want to say it aloud. That's the purpose of the bow anyway: an unspoken, but obvious sign of who he belongs to. He doesn't want to make a fool of himself by saying it out loud. He's spent all this time silently pining after you, he's not ready to have it crash and burn at his feet. Especially not after he knows what it's like to have you. Not when the feel and taste of you are already implanted in his memory.

He shifts uneasily on his feet. "I think you already know."

You lean back onto the bookshelf behind you, lips puckered in a purse. Of course you already know, you just don't understand why. Surely he's only doing it for an ego boost, bragging about how he got you in his (well, technically your) bed despite the fact you dislike him. You rub at your temple, eyes closing shut as you feel an oncoming headache.

"Yeah, but you don't like me." You finally say, opening your eyes and giving him an unamused look. "Why would you want people to think we're a...thing?"

Miguel takes a step forward. Then another, and another, and another until the tips of his shoes are centimeters away from yours. He casts a shadow over you from how tall he is in comparison, blocking out the already scarce light. If you were anyone else, you would be terrified of him looming over you. But you know that he wouldn't hurt you, especially not after the way he handled you yesterday. All sweet praises and desperately soft caresses. Your mind goes a bit hazy recalling it, and you have to blink rapidly to vanish the thoughts. Even as your core grows hot.

Miguel's hand, the one with the ribbon, comes up to your face. His brows are furrowed, but they relax slightly when his fingers run through your hair, pushing a strand back behind your ear even as it comes loose and falls back into place. He's quite a moment, and it takes great effort to even your breaths to not reveal the frantic state of your heart right now. He's simply studying you, taking you in.

"Who said that?"

His words are hushed, warm as they fan over your face from how close he is. It reminds you of the voice he had used when he asked if he can take off your dress, his hands hovering on your back as he pressed kisses along your jaw. You can feel his lips ghosting your skin as the memory hits you, and a slight shiver runs up your spine.

"I- what?" You mumble out, your mind scrambling to collect itself.

"Who said I don't like you?"

He mocks the tone you used, and your mouth drops to open. An instinctive 'You did!' crawls up your throat, but it gets trapped between your vocal cords. Your brows furrow as your mind works to find a moment of proof that you're right. Trying to pick through all the teasing until you find a time where the words slipped out of his mouth. But, you can't. Your mouth snaps shut, averting your eyes to his ear as embarrassment stains your cheeks.

Miguel hums knowingly, bringing his wrists between the two of you. You both look down as his hand comes up to pull at the ends of the bow. The silk dents under the weight of his thumb and pointer finger as he tugs softly at it, watching as it unravels. You gulp, suddenly feeling nervous as Miguel looks at you, your eyes meeting his. You flinch in surprise when his thumb presses on our chin, slowly guiding your head up so he can see your face properly. It leaves your neck entirely exposed, and you tense when the soft silk brushes the nape of your neck. Miguel's eyes drop to look at what he's doing, hands slow and careful as he starts tying the bow. His fingers move skillfully as he crosses the two lengths together, flipping one over the other and forming two loops. He tugs until it's snug against your supple neck. It's loose enough that it doesn't choke you as you move your head, only applying enough pressure to let you know that it's there. It blends perfectly into your outfit, like it was always there.

He follows the length of one of the ends down, brushes over your clothed breast slightly before his hand skims your thigh. It makes you jolt, both of your hands grabbing at his shoulders in surprise. Your eyes shoot down, blushing at the obvious bulge in his pants, but your eyes trace the movements of his fingers. The rough pads float over your skin, dipping occasionally into your inner thighs before returning to the apex. You can't help but squirm, hands tightening on his shoulders and your thighs flex.

Miguel's eyes are hazy and half-lidded as he watches you. His fingers gain more and more confidence as he watches you become putty, slipping under your skirt until his pinkie skims the edge of your panties. It causes a little gasp to part from your lips, doe eyes wide as you look up to him. He can feel a hunger burning in his gut, driving him to cup is hand completely over your clothed cunt.

"Miguel!" You hiss, bucking into his hand. "W-what are you-?"

He coos down at you, shushing you lightly as he leans down. His forehead meets your shoulder, resting there despite the weird angle that already is causing an ache between his shoulder blades. Your hands slide into his hair, your eyes looking to the ceiling when he grinds the palm of his hand into your clit. A wave of deja vu washes over you as his lips plant small kisses to your skin, inaudible mumbles breathed against your skin as he huffs at your scent.

"Just wanna make y'feel good." You barely make out. "Show you how much I like ya."

You have to bite your lip to prevent a lewd sound from escaping when his fingers move your panties to the side, stroking up your soaked slit. Your hands tighten in Miguel's hair, pushing his face closer to your neck. A full-body shiver runs up your spine when his tongue licks at the skin just above the ribbon, dampening the edges of it and leaving a shiny line on your skin. You swear your knees are on the verge of buckling when he repeats the action, switching between licks and suckling around the pink silk. His fingers toy with your slick, gathering it on the tips of his fingers and massaging it along your clit before dipping them inside of you again.

Miguel eats up every single quiet noise you let out, mind echoing with the soft squelch of your cunt and the shaky moans you produce. He has to flex his thighs to physically prevent his knees from bending so he can hump your leg like a damn dog, his cock aching to swap places with his fingers. But he knows you wouldn't want to risk anyone finding the two of you in such a compromising position, and he isn't very keen with he idea of anyone but him seeing how pretty you look when waves of pleasure hit you. So instead, he focuses all the pent up need into curling his fingers into you. The soft sound of his palm hitting against your mound drives him nuts, feeling your slick drip from his fingers until it's practically pooling in his hand. He makes sure his fingers find and press into that one gummy spot that was you gasping, your legs shakily trying to close from how good it feels.

Miguel's eyes roll back as you let out a shaky whimper of his name, your legs locking as your body shakes. He can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers, squeezing them tight as you come undone. Miguel practically whines into your neck, his jaw unhinging until his teeth sink into your neck. He pulls away when your body goes slack, indents marking above and below the silk. His hand is sticky as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, the dim light reflecting on the glossy liquid. Your cheeks are beautifully flushed, hot pants leaving your parted lips. Miguel can't help but slip his two creamy fingers past your glossy lips, eyes hypnotized as you lazy suck at them with no complaints. Miguel has to pull them out fast, feeling his cock twitch dangerously in his pants. He shuts himself off from a groan by stuffing the fingers in his mouth instead, licking up the remaining slick and your saliva. It's heavenly, and he's not a bit embarrassed when he licks up his palm too.

You hum at the sight, a soft smile playing on your lips as you slouch forward, taking your turn by leaning on his shoulder. Miguel's clean hand cradles the back of your head, his lips pressing into your hair as you float down into the present. You sigh tiredly as you gently push away, Miguel's arms quickly wrapping around your waist so you don't go too far.

You definitely don't mind being wrapped up, not if it's by him.

Part 3

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extinctlesspains · 4 days ago

Note

i NEED more kwon fics plssss

𝑁𝑒𝑤 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑥 𝑀𝑖𝑦𝑎𝑔𝑖-𝑑𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑗𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑇𝑎𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑖, 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛, 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛, 𝑝𝑒𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△

You watched from the sidelines, seeing how Kwon had injured his hand, screaming in pain. You glanced at Kreese who was yelling at him to get up and win his match. "This doesn't feel right." You muttered to Sam. "It's okay Y/n, it's just a karate match."

"We both know it's not just a karate match. You would know that better than anyone." Your eyes glared at Sam. She looked back at you and shook her hand. "Don't even think about it." Frowning, you turned back to Kwon.

You were always known as the generous fighter. Yes, you were a good one but after matches, you would immediately run to check on your opponent. Checking for any scratches, cuts, or bruises. You were part of the medical career path at school so you applied things you learned to real life scenarios.

"He looks like he's in pain." "Y/n, no. He's the enemy." You laughed, looking at Sam. "Do you hear yourself? He's a human and he's in pain. We don't need to be cruel to him because of the dojo he's in. Two wrongs don't make a right." Sam chuckled, facing forward. "See where that gets you."

Her words made you clench your jaw and look away. "I will."

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

"Robby what's your room number?" You questioned the boy. All the Miyagi do members were gathered in Hawk and Miguel's room to hang out. It was already noon and the sun had gone down, making a peaceful atmosphere.

Robby laughed and looked at you. "You're in it. Just go outside and take a look" You shook your head. "No, the other room." He raised his brow. "Kwons in there now, why would you want it?" He leaned on his bed, putting his arms behind his head. "Just tell me, please." You softly smiled, trying to persuade him.

Sighing, he told you. "Room 618." As you nodded at his words, your legs moved across the floor, leaving the hotel room. "Wait Y/n, where are you goin-'' The door shut before Robby could ask his question. "Leave her, she's been acting weird every since Kwon got hurt." Sam spoke up, staring at the door you left from.

You ran to your hotel room, picking up your medical kit and rushing to room 618 which contained Kwon.

Knock knock. "Ugh, who is it?" Kwon grumbled, grabbing the door knob to open it and wincing at his hand pains. You smiled, raising the med kit next to your face. Kwon rubbed his hand, trying to ease his pain and stared at you with a stern look. "No" he tried to shut the door on your face but you stopped it from closing with your hand. "Please? I won't be able to sleep well until I know your hand is treated." You whispered softly.

His cold eyes pierced yours but you refused to be intimidated. "Fine." He grumbled and stepped aside to let you through. You smiled and walked into his room. Your hand tightened around the med kit and set it down on a nearby counter. "Take a seat." You said softly and grabbed some things.

You grabbed a bandage wrap and took Kwons hand. "Why are you doing this?" He grunted at the pain. "It's the right thing to do." His eyes looked and scanned your face. "I don't care if your in the opposing dojo... If your hurt, I want to help." Whispers left your lips.

Wrapping it tightly around his hand, you smiled and looked at him. "Bit better?" You asked after you were done tending his hand. Kwon clenched his fist, seeing how he was able to move it a bit more freely without being in pain. "Yeah" He bluntly responded.

Smiling widely, you closed your kit and got up to leave. "Wait-" The black haired reached for your hand. "Thank you." He faintly said. "Your welcome.." Nodding and smiling at his appreciation, you left his room without a sound.

Kwon looked down at his hand as soon as you left, his eyes soft and his lips curving to a slight smile. Something about you couldn't leave his head. "Y/n..." He repeated. "Maybe all Miyagi dos aren't bad."

He chuckled and recalled the moment you two shared.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△

A/n: Hiiii!! Just want to come out here and say another thank you to everyone. It's beyond wild how much I'm blowing up and I appreciate every single one of you! If you have any suggestions, go ahead and message me and I will take a look at them! Once again thank you so much for all the love and support ♡

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #karate kid #karatekidxreader #miguel diaz #robby keene #daniel larusso #kwon cobra kai #johnny lawrence #kwon jae sung #kwon jae sung x reader #kwon #axel kovacevic x reader #axel cobra kai #axel kovacevic

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satorusugurugurl · 3 months ago

Note

Can you plssss write jjk men reacting to you spilling boiling water on yourself. Fluff but also smutt.. like y/n quickly takes off her shorts after it gets on her, cause it’s hot…THANK YOUUUU I LOVE YOUR WRITING 🙏🙏

JJK Men: That’s Hot!!

Summary: When you spill boiling water on your pants, the logical thing to do is to take them off!

Pairing: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: fingering, kissing, smut, difrry talk, unprotected smut, oral smut (F receiving) suggestiveness

Word Count: 5.1K

A/N: i freakin’ fell asleep and posted the title, the freaking title! 🤣 anyways! Here’s the full post! Nanami’s had me biting my lip! 😮‍💨

Gojo Satoru:

“Nooo!!” Satoru groaned as the kettle on the stove started to whistle. “I just got comfy!”Your blue-eyed boyfriend looked up from your chest, which he was pressing his face into. “Don't go; you can't just leave me.”

“Toru, it’s ten feet away.”

He pursed his pretty lips together before sighing overdramatically as he pulled himself away from your chest. Maneuvering your way from underneath him while he put all his dead weight on you was a struggle, but you somehow managed to pull out with a huff. Seeing you pull yourself up and off the ground, clearly winded from the effort it took to free yourself, had him smirking.

“Don't look so smug, asshat, or you can find someone else to motorboat.” You watched as Gojo stared at you blankly before pulling his phone out and texting someone. “Who are you texting?” you asked as you entered the kitchen.

“Seeing Suguru is free for motorboating.” You barked out, boating, pulling the whistling kettle off of the stove as Satoru’s phone dinged. “Oooh~ he said he could pencil me in on the twelfth—”

“The twelfth?” you cocked a brow in his direction as you went about preparing your mug and teabag.

Your boyfriend's silence had you peeking up at him as he dropped his long arms over the back of the couch with a pout. “Of never.”

You laughed out loud, from Satoru’s puppy dog eyes to the pout, which was a mistake. It was karma, deciding to act right then instead of making you wait. Being too busy laughing at the apparent suffering of your boyfriend resulted in knocking the mug over. And since you were pressed against the countertop. The second ill boiling water hit your upper thighs in a flash.

A screech left your mouth as you jumped back, thanking some higher power for reminding you to wear shorts. You yanked them down, grimacing as you kicked the slightly steaming fabric away, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Around that same time, Satoru rounded the corner, concerned, stitched into his features, only to be smacked in the face by your discarded shorts.

“Fuck!” you bent over, trying to see the damage the water had done. “Ooh fuck!”

“Hold on!” In a breath, Satoru had you up on the other counter, pushing you back slightly to examine your thighs. “Are you okay?” Long ivory fingers hesitantly moved over the tops of your thighs, searching for any discoloration. Thankfully, he didn't see any burns on your beautiful skin.

With the adrenaline and your heart rate slowing down, you took a deep breath, relieved to know you weren't hurt. You watched as Satoru rubbed his fingers over your sweet, soft skin, massaging his thumbs into the plump flesh of your thighs. You mewled softly, eyes rolling back at his thumbs' slow, tender strokes. How they inched closer and closer towards your panties, and how they went from sweet, gentle touches to hungry, fire-fueled need.

“Satoru,” you softly purred, watching. I think I—mmm!” Your head bowed, your lips parted, as Satoru pushed his thumb up further towards the band of your underwear. “I think that I’m okay.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

His fingers pushed the flimsy fabric of your underwear to the side, toying with your slick folds. The sudden contact had you gasping hands, gripping the edge of the counter as Satoru’s lips down your neck, pressing the fist of touches against your sensitive skin. The feeling of his thumb against your core, your buck your hips against his hand, silently begging for more.

While teasing you would be fun, Satoru was feeling a bit impatient himself. So his skilled thumb moved further up your delicate folds, finding your clit in an instant. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears. His thumb moved up, rubbing circles around the bundle of nerves in teasing strokes, making your nails dig harder into the counter. With each stroke of his skilled thumb, your grip on the counter loosened as the urge to dig into his skin increased.

Seeing how you purse your lips together and how your eyebrows twitch fueled the fire in your boyfriend‘s stomach. A fire he would gladly kindle without any other thoughts. He pulled his hand away before any protest could leave your mouth, two fingers inside of your wet pussy, stretching you out.

“Oh fuck Toru—! Yes! Yes!” You cried out, arching your back against his chest, your eyes going wide as he began moving his fingers in and out of your heat.

“Fuck you’re so tight.” he whojed, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace.

“O-Oh god!” you whimpered as he pumped his fingers faster, his thumb moving up, rubbing your clit once more drawing out cries from you that reverberated off the walls of the kitchen. “Satoru!”

“Fuuck—fuck yes, baby, squeeze down on my fingers, and I’ll make you feel better.”

You were so drunk off his touch, but you did as he said, squeezing around his fingers, eager to see what he had planned to make you feel even better. When Satoru felt your slick walls constrict, he didn’t make you wait any longer. He curled those heavenly fingers up, pressing them right against your g-spot. Your mouth fell open, and your eyes wide as pleasure wrecked your body.

But he didn’t stop there.

Gojo hooked his fingers up and thrust them firmly against the spongy spot. He pressed into it with every jerk of his hand and wrist, pushing you closer to the edge with each stroke inside your walls and against your clit. The dual pleasure finally caused you to release. Your hold on to the cool marble countertop any longer. They quickly moved to his shoulders, which had been a wise decision on your part because the second Gojo felt the sting of your nails in his skin. He lost all control.

He began finger fucking you like a madman. His head dropped forward, teeth digging into your neck before moving up, grazing your ear, smothering the growls that flowed through him like a feral animal that had marked you as prey. Your toes curled, legs squeezing desperately around your boyfriend‘s hand as you roll your hips against him, chasing your release.

You didn’t even need to beg for it because Satori knew your body, and he knew you were close. “You gonna cum baby?” You could nip at your ear, drawing out a wanton and moan from your pretty lips.

“Y-Yes Toru! Pl—please I’m so close!”

“Cum on my fingers, cum all over my fingers, baby.”

Satoru took a step back, watching your face as you rode the waves of pleasure. His fingers were drenched with your slick, making them even easier to move in and out of you. Seeing your release all over his hand awakened a deeper, more primal need within Satoru. He needed to taste you, to be buried inside of you, God he wanted you, bad.

He continued slowly, working his fingers inside of you, helping you ride out the last waves of pleasure that wrecked your body. When your walls stopped constricting around him, you finally allowed yourself to open your eyes, looking up at Satoru, only to notice him looking down where his fingers were still buried inside of you.

“Baby,” you asked, “Baby, you good? Because I’m feeling great.” The sigh you let out was so sultry, so teasing; Gojo’s pretty cerulean eyes snapped up at you.

“Oh, you’re good?”

“Yeah, so good.”

“Oh, that’s great to know.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you, moving to grip both your thighs as he carried you back to the couch, plopping you down there. “So good to know because I’m not.”

His reaction had your chest constricting as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “What? Why? Did som—?!” Your string of questions was promptly silenced as Satoru shoved you back onto the couch before lifting his shirt, revealing his toned muscles.

“I was nice and comfy earlier.” His hands reached down, tugging his shorts down just enough to free his cock. “Now you’re gonna make me work to get comfy again.”

“Oh, yeah, I did that, didn’t I?” You purred, spreading your legs, allowing him to press his cock against your entrance with a hiss. “I can only assume it will take a while for you to find that sweet spot.”

“Oh, sweetpea, I’ll find it in record time.”

Nanami Kento:

“Mhmm~” You moaned, eyes rolling back as he licked your lips. “Ooh fuck.” You swallowed happily, glancing up at your husband, smirking back. “Ken~”

“I have perfected it.”

“You have!” You put the spoon you had just used in the sink of warm, sudsy water. “Fuck that Alfredo is perfection!”

Then again, so were the other times he had made it. This time, however, he had gone above and beyond. Maybe it was the brand of Parmesan cheese he had purchased or the butter he browned before adding heavy cream and cheese. But for some odd reason, this was the best Alfredo sauce he had ever made.

Your husband returned his gaze to the simmering pot on the stove. He used the whisk to ensure I didn’t burn at the bottom. He had an almost smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, which was almost uncharacteristic. But the man had a God-given right to be complacent, especially when he made a sauce taste as good as sex. Not only was he the god of cooking himself, but he looked like a sex god on top of that.

He wore a tight-fitting T-shirt, gray sweatpants that left a little to your imagination, and a black apron that hugged him perfectly. Saturday evenings were the best evenings when you decided to stay home to cook. You not only spent time with your husband, but you also had dinner and a show.

“Love, do me a favor and collect some of that boiling pasta water so our noodles won’t stick together.”

“Fuck, I love it when you took culinary science to me.”

“Oh yeah? Does it get my darling wife going?”

You were in the process of scooping boiling water into a mug to set aside. But the sound of your husband calling you, his darling wife, and you biting down on your bottom lip. The same lip that you had gotten busted by a curse on your most recent mission. So when your teeth made contact with your lip, you jolted in pain, dropping the ladle to rub at your mouth and bleeding lip, thus dropping the ladle of hot water all over the front of your shorts.

“Ow!” You cried out in both pain and fear that the boiling water was going to burn your skin. As quickly as it happened, your husband was quicker. He Move the pot of simmering sauce to the back burner, before moving, grabbing one arm around your waist while the other reached down yanking your shorts off.

“Love?! Honey, are you okay?”

You reached down, running your fingers over the top of your thighs, relieved that the hot, boiling water had managed to soak through your shorts and burn your skin. “Yeah! Yeah, I think I’m okay!” You sighed, eyes following the trail of your hands, further confirming that you were, in fact, all right.

“Are you sure? Positive?”

“Yeah, Ken, I’m okay.”

“Because you know, I’ve been taking excellent care of our aloe vera plant, and I don’t mind snipping off one of its leaves for you.”

What had you done to deserve such a sweet and caring man? “Yes, Ken, I'm positive that I’m okay.” You trailed your fingers up his chest. “I’m lucky you’re fast at removing my clothes. Otherwise, I’m not sure if I would be okay.” Your husband glanced down, looking at your bare legs. “I can’t remember the last time you took my pants off that fast. Maybe it was our fourth year at Jujutsu High? We are right when we took our relationship to further levels,” you waggled your brows at him, “and you had just gotten back from a weeklong mission.” Nanami smiled fondly at the memory of your younger days.

“I remember that; I think I had the driver drop me off right in front of your dorm; you kept teasing me through text messages.”

“I didn’t expect you to rip my clothes off of me.”

Nanami chuckled; returning to the stove, he grabbed two oven mitts off the counter, took the boiling pasta to the sink, and drained it into the colander. “I couldn’t help myself back then.” He hummed, shifting the elbow, macaroni, pasta, and colander thoroughly draining out of water.

“Oh, and you’re saying you have more self-control now?”

“Yes, I do.”

You cross your arms over your chest, watching your husband quickly construct the Alfredo chicken casserole he made for dinner. He puts it into a baking pan before adding the sauce and topping it with freshly grated cheese. You had an idea, an idea that requires his hands to be free. You wait until the casserole dish is inside the oven and your husband has removed his apron before licking your lips.

“Ken.”

Honey-brown eyes met yours, and you watched his blonde brow cocked. “Yeah—” his words trail off as he watched you lift your shirt, tossing it to the floor with your wet shorts. “Oh, what do you think you’re doing?” You reached behind, unclasping your bra, allowing it to fall to the ground.

“We need to spice things up and relive a few of our memories.” You see how your husband’s eyes darkened with me at your words. “Now, what was it? I said back then to get you so flustered?” You tap your finger against your chin and faux thought. “ I vaguely remember you being extremely frustrated on that trip. Something to do with Gojo—”

“Please do not bring that idiot up right now.”

It was like nothing had changed.

“Oh, right! You said something along the lines of how you would find a way to destroy Gojo. And I’m pretty sure I said something along the lines of, ‘Why destroy him when you can destroy my pussy instead’? Does that sound right to you?”

Your husband made no signs of confirmation or denial because he was too busy picking you up by your ass, carrying you to the nearest wall he could find. You couldn’t even make a sound of surprise because his lips had a hold of yours so fast he swallowed any moans. Your husband’s fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, holding you so tight. You were certainly going to have bruises later. You hit the back of the wall hard, and Nanami made quick work, ripping the flimsy fabric of your panties off.

“You know exactly what to say to push my buttons, don’t you?” His breath was hot against your lips, leaving you shivering, coding your skin, and making the tiny hair on your arms rise. “You know exactly what to say or how to get me to reminisce; just send me over the edge.”

You listened, and he reached down, wrestling fabric your pussy to throb in anticipation. “Well,” you swallowed hard, “I don’t exactly see you complaining.” Kento scoffed against pulling lips, feeling his twitching, leaking cock rubbing against your entrance.

“I have no complaints aside from one.”

“Oh, and what is that?”

To answer his question, he slammed inside of you, stretching your walls to the point that it was almost painful, but the pleasure overrode the pain as he shoved himself into your deepest parts. Your mouth, fate, eyes wide as he growled against your lips. You stayed still, both of you taking the other in. Your shallow breaths with his deep grunts as he tried to hold himself back. Nanami wanted to savor how you felt around his cock.

And it felt fucking fantastic.

“Oh my god, Ken.” You finally broke the unending silence. “You’re so fucking thick.”

“And you’re so tight; you were made for me. I never want anyone but you. Each time I slide inside of you, I lose myself and everything that is you. Your smell, the sounds you make, and how you grip onto me for life. I fucking love you.”

“I love you t-too—nngh!”

Your last words were cut off with a moan as Nanami slammed himself inside of you. His cock pulled all the way out, the head of his cock snagging on the tight muscles of your entrance before he pushed himself back in further, trying to go deeper than he ever had before. Nanami loved you; every part of him loved you.

And you loved him just as much. You cried out, digging your nails and shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist, holding him inside of you, making it hard for him to pull out. Not that he wanted to pull out. Being inside of you was like heaven on earth. If he could get away with staying in bed with you for all of an eternity, he would.

His eyes shut tight as he nipped and sucked at your shoulder, fuck you against the wall like you were nineteen-year-olds again. It was raw, full of passion and need because he remembered that night years ago. No matter how many years passed, you were still as beautiful as the day he asked you out. You both were shy back then. But now, you were fucking crazy for each other.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed, feeling yourself already dangerously close to climaxing. “Oh fuck—fuck, b-babe!” You tried to catch your husband’s attention, but he was so lost in how you felt that he barely heard you. “B-Baby!? I-I’m gonna cum! Oh fuck Kento! I-I’m gonna—!”

Instead of encouraging you or telling you to do it, your husband continued, slamming into the head of his cock, kissing your cervix. It was combined with his teeth, sinking into your skin, and had you cumming around his cock like the good little slut you were. You screamed, tilting your head back as you slid your nails down the back of his T-shirt. And even though there was a fabric between your bodies, Nanami could still feel the sting of your nails against him. That had his hips stilling as he roared into your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed as he came right against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his hot, sticky cum.

“Haaah,” you moaned in a daze, blinking as you dropped your head to look down at Nanami. “K-Kento nngh babe?” Your fingers ran through his silky blonde locks, trying to draw his attention to make sure that he was still, in fact, alive after that intense orgasm. “Honey?” Your question was not ignored. Instead, Nanami snarled again, slamming you down on the kitchen table towering above. “Ahh!” You squealed, laughing loudly as Nanami’s fierce, lust-filled eyes glanced at the clock on the stove.

“I have you for the next twenty minutes. I’m going to fuck your brains out; then we’re going to lay on the sofa, completely naked, wrapped in a blanket, while we have dinner. Giving you more than enough time to regain some form of composure before I take you in the shower and I fuck you so hard you’re going to have to call out sick.”

“H-Holy fuck Kento!? What’s gotten into you?”

You watched with wide eyes as your husband reached down, grabbing his shirt with one hand and ripping it over his head. “Love, nothing’s gotten into me other than just how much I love you.”

Geto Suguru:

“I’m home!” Geto announced as he entered your shared apartment. His eyes roamed, searching for any signs of the girls or you. But there was no nefarious giggles to be heard or that of chitchat her from the living room. “Anybody ho—?”

The sound of a pot being dropped rang out from the kitchen. “Oow!!” That was the sound of your voice.

Without hesitation, Geto rounded the corner just in time to watch you shimmy out of your shorts. He blinked at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. An empty saucepan, which most likely contained water, rolled on the floor, the liquid spreading out against the tile. You danced on your tiptoes, avoiding the hot water as best you could while trying to undress yourself from the bottom down.

While you were dancing around, Geto noticed you weren’t wearing any panties, which wasn’t unusual considering you had been at home all day. It was a lovely sight to come home to see. Usually, it would be if you weren’t currently jumping around steaming hot water.

“Hey! Hold on!” Geto scolded as he noticed your toes inching too close to the water. “Wait right there!”

A flash of dark hair crossed your peripheral vision before you were scooped up into big, strong arms and carried to the living room, away from the dangerous water. “T-Thanks.” You gasped, leaning against the couch and sinking into its plush cushions.

“What were you doing?”

“Well,” you sighed, glancing down at your boyfriend, who was crouched on the floor in front of you, his hands resting against yours, dark eyes watching you very closely, eagerly awaiting to see what you had to say. “I saw this video on TikTok.”

“Oh my god, you and the girls’ obsession with TikTok.”

“Stop it; it’s something that we can bond over.” You sighed, Running a hand down your face. “Anyways, I saw a video for this adorable cat jello mold, so obviously, I bought it, and I was planning on making the super cute cat for dessert tonight, but I don’t think I had the pan on the stove all the way because I was uh—-I was a little distracted.”

“Let me guess.” Suguru smirked, “Watching more TikTok’s?”

“That point is irrelevant, but in my distraction, I didn’t notice the pan was on the stove all the way, so the handle got too hot. When I grabbed it, I freaked out and tried to put it back on the stove, only to end up spilling some of the water on myself.”

Suguru’s eyes shut down towards your bare thighs. “So that explains the impromptu show I got to see.” You reached out, smacking his upper arm with a pout, and he laughed at your pretty pout as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sorry baby, you’re not hurt, right?” As if to answer his question, you ran your hands down your legs, searching for any source spots or visible burns on your skin.

“No, I don’t think so.”

His fingers followed the same traces your fingers made; only heat followed his touch. “You sure?” He coaxed, eyes leaving your face to focus on your skin. “Because I think—I see a mark right here.” You watched with curious eyes as his fingers traced over skin that had no visible mark or resulted in pain under his touch.

“I think it’s fin—”

“I’ll kiss it better.” He interrupted, head dipping down to press chaste kisses against the top of your thigh. You gasped at the sudden touch of his lips against your bare skin. “Oh, and would you look at that?” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head as his hands found another ‘sore spot.’ “My poor baby, you’re hurt here too.”

His fingers and lips continue to find little marks all over your legs from the top of your thighs down to your kneecap before slowly working his mouth down your calf to your ankle. By the time his eyes lined up, meeting your half-lidded gaze, he gave you a cocky smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing. There was something about teasing you to the point that you could no longer handle it, which always made him feral. He loved to get you so worked up you squirming underneath him.

Usually, on nights like this, when the girls are going to be home soon, he would work you up so that when they finally went to bed, you both were alone and in the comfort of your room. He could take his time and make up for all of the teasing. Suguru wanted you begging for him before the night was over. Only this time is going to be a bit different. The girls were staying with Tsumiki at Gojo’s house for a sleepover. Meaning the two of you had the whole apartment for yourselves.

So when Geto reached your ankle, he was about to pull away to go about changing and relaxing with you on the couch. Before he had a chance to move, you reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down to his knees on the ground before you. Your boyfriend blinked, eyeing you skeptically, waiting to hear what you had to say.

“You missed a spot.” Suguru watched as you spread your legs wide open for him, giving him a wonderful view of your slick, wet pussy. “Right—“ He choked on his saliva as you reached down, using your fingers to spread open your lips, revealing your entrance to him that throbbed with need. “Here.”

Suguru had no idea it was possible for words to go straight to his cock, below, and behold, here he was. His dick was hard enough, just teasing. From feeling your legs tremble underneath his lips to hearing the soft little sound from the back of your throat. For you spread yourself like that on full display made his dick hurt so hard it fucking hurt.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe for him to tease you a little more or to tell you to wait. You would excitedly tell him that you two had the apartment to yourselves and that there was no risk of anyone interrupting you. Suguru never gave you the chance to say any of those thoughts. After his brain had a second to process what you were showing him, the man sat back on his heels and took his half-up bun down. As soon as those dark strands of hair were free, Suguru collected all his long, luscious, shiny hair in one hand and tied it into a messy bun.

You gawked at the man in front of you, opening and closing your mouth before Suguru grabbed your hips with both his hands and yanked you to the edge of the couch. You inhaled sharply as you fell back, lifting your head just in time to watch as your boyfriend shoved his face between your thighs, tongue dipping inside of your twitching cum. He wasted no time and went straight to work., tongue, laughing at your click before slowly sliding down your slit to your entrance, where he teased your twitching hole with the tip of his tongue before slowly sliding it back up, swirling circles around your clit.

“Nngh! H-holy fuck!”

“Mmm~ how careless of me.” Suguru breathed out heavily against your swollen, sensitive clit. “How could I forget to kiss this better~?”

“S-Sugu!” Your back arched off the couch as his tongue kitten licked your clit. “Oh-Oooh fuck!”

The feeling of his tongue sliding inside of you had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You inhaled with a sharp gasp, your hand reaching down and digging into the dark strands of hair mostly tied into a top knot on his head. He growled into your sex, his tongue brushing over your click as he increased the pressure of his hold on your hips, drawing you closer to his mouth, which was seemingly impossible from how close you were to him. But if there was a will, there was a way.

Even if that way involved you grinding your hips over your boyfriend’s face, something he gladly encouraged. If you were to stop jerking your hips forward, you were sure you would continue to do so because of the way your boyfriend’s arms moved, rolling you and time with your thrusts; you knew this was what he wanted. To eat you out like a wild animal, to lose himself entirely in your juices, the scent of you, the sweet, tangy taste that coated his tongue.

Suguru moaned, his eyes growing darker with every stroke of his tongue over your walls. Those same dark eyes were transfixed with your face; his ears focused on you, everything you said, how you begged him to swirl his tongue, or how you wanted him to lap eagerly at your g-spot. If that were something you wanted, it would be something he would gladly give.

“Mmm!” He snarled against your sensitive Clint as he ground your hips harder against his face. His eyes never left yours as he tasted you in the most intimate way he could.

Seeing him so desperate, so hungry for you, had you losing all of your control. You pulled and tongue out his hair as hard as you could, ride his tongue like your own personal fuck toy. Suguru, he loved it. Seeing you lose control over yourself, over every ounce of power that you usually held onto, had him reaching down, pulling his cock out so he could stroke it in time with his tongue while his thumb idly rubbed circles and hearts over your clit.

“C-Cummin’ Sugu! I-I’m cummin’ oooh fuck!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as your juices squirted out, coating his lips, chin, and face with your release. You were so lost in your orgasm. You barely noticed the granted pleasure that emanated from between your thighs. That sound was a sound you were very accustomed to; it was the sound of your boyfriend cumming all over his hand.

“Mmm, fuck.” Suguru grunted against your pussy before he pressed a gentle kiss against it. “You taste so good.”

“Mm.” You whispered, slowly sitting up, ignoring the dizzy spell that followed your movements after the strength of your orgasm.

“You taste so good, Princess~” You hummed against, slowly sliding off the couch to straddle your boyfriend’s hips, his softening cock gently twitching back to life. “Hey~? What do you think you’re doing?”

“Saying thank you.”

Suguru learned back, slowly smirking as he eyed you. “Oh~? And just how do you plan on that king me?” He pursed his lips together watching you closely.

“The girls aren't going to be home this weekend, so I think I’m going to ride you all night.”

Suguru slowly blinked jaw falling open. “Wait what?” a sinister little smile graced your lips as you began slowly rocking your hips again at him.

“I'm going to make sure to thoroughly thank you~ for taking such good care of me.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

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roguerogerss · 11 months ago

Text

The President; ‘Something Sweet.’

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: SMUT!!

(HEY! this is the second part to The President, part 3 will be out soon so plssss stay tuned, hope u luv it, luv you, bye) (requests r open! send me stuff here)

“Where did you go?"

Clemensia snatched your arm and stopped you in your place. You'd been trying to ignore all of the girls, weaving your way in and out of the crowd, accepting the odd congratulations or hug as you went, you thought you might find Tigris and stick by her until at least dinner time. You wanted nothing more than to be at home.

"Oh." You started but stopped short. If you even stuttered you knew she'd know, your legs were shaking and, if she looked at you closely, she'd be able to see that your hair wasn't nearly as smooth as it was an hour ago, and your lipstick had smudged over your chin and you'd spent longer than you should've trying to wipe it off. "Just had a few photos to be taken, Coryo wanted them out of the way."

Clemensia turned you to face her, gripping your forearms as she eyed you suspiciously. You held your breath a moment, she wasn't the type to keep her mouth shut. "Of course. Photos."

She was smirking at you, and you nearly hung your head in shame out of pure instinct. You teetered backwards slightly in your heels, and Clemensia barely stifled a laugh. "Did these photos involve you being bent over something?"

"Clemmie!" You burst out, hands clamping over your mouth, cheeks burning red. And then you couldn't help but laugh. "Don't say anything, please."

"I won't!" She laughed and took hold of your hand, starting to lead you back towards the rest of your school friends. “I didn’t say anything when you’d disappear for every free hour we had in school, did I?”

“Clemensia!”

Okay! I won’t say anything. Promise. It's your day, and Coryo's President now. I can’t say anything."

You laughed as you approached the other girls, Clemmie was your friend, as much as you hated to admit it, and you did actually like spending time with her, after you got over the initial idea of it. The other girls, however, were a different story.

"Where did you guys go?" Lysistrata whined when you rejoined the circle. She wasn’t the worst of the bunch, but, god, could she moan about anything. "Felix had an interview and they basically said that he actually would've won, had Doctor Gaul's vote not counted-"

"Well, her vote did count." Clemensia defended and sent you a small smile. "Why dwell on it, Lyssie?"

"Because it's unfair." Livia practically snarled, lip curled upwards like a growling dog. "Coriolanus will be president until he either steps down, or dies off. And we all know he won't step down, so none of us will even have a chance at it."

"You wouldn't have a chance at anything anyway, Livia. Festus is a slob." You snapped. You'd remembered why you so hated going to school, and then University with these girls. Livia especially always seemed to bring out the worst in you. You heard Clemensia sigh, and Lysistrata sucked in a breath to be held.

Livia looked as though she was about to lunge for you. "He is not a slob!" She threw her hands in the air and started to say something else, when Clemensia butted in, to avoid a public argument between two powerful men's wives.

"Ladies!" She held her arms out between the two of you in a calming manner, and you almost scoffed and walked away from them, but you knew you had to be here. For Coryo, you thought. "Let's just all be friends, okay? You managed it for seventeen years before today, you can certainly last another two hours."

"Oh, look!" Lysistrata pointed excitedly at the grand hall, drawing the attention of the conversation to something else entirely. "I think we've to go for dinner, now. Aren't you all excited? It'll be lovely."

You were definitely excited. The University provided three square meals a day, if you stayed long enough - you always did - but, since you'd graduated, it had been back to Tigris' cabbage soup and the occasional luxury like a loaf of bread or some beef mince, if Coriolanus helped Doctor Gaul with something she believed warranted an extra payout. The food was guaranteed to be something special, and, even better, you could leave your school friends behind for at least an hour and sit by Coryo instead.

An avox appeared by your small group, and gestured for you all to follow them, leading the gathering of wives to the dinner hall first. Clemensia, Livia, and Lysistrata were positioned at a table together, each one chair apart from the other, and you almost laughed out loud when Livia's scowl deepened further and Clemmie sighed disappointedly at her space between the other two.

After seating the three other women, the avox gestured for you to follow them even further, to a long, rectangular table overlooking a sea of smaller round ones. The hall really was magnificent, all marble and hardwood, a string quartet playing in the far corner, and Coriolanus' Grandma'am's roses decorating each table, in small glass vases. You smiled at the touch, assuming it was Tigris' doing, Coryo would love it.

"Thank you." You nodded to the avox as they tapped a chair for you to sit in. The table was laid with a white tablecloth and lace runner, and six plates, with dainty little place cards placed neatly atop them. The ones on either side of you read Tigris Snow and President Coriolanus Snow. You assumed the one next to Coryo would've been for the Grandma'am and the other two chairs for other government officials.

The room started to fill up with people, celebrities, guests, reporters, game makers. You tried to make out anyone familiar in the sea of people, but faces blurred into one another, distant chatter became almost deafening, and you found that, not only could you not decipher one person from another, but you'd given yourself a headache trying to do so.

The chair beside you pulled back, startling you from your squint-eyed staring, and then Tigris appeared, beaming and touching a hand to your shoulder. "He did it!" She cried and you embraced, squealing as you did so.

“I know.” You mused. “Did you do the roses?”

Tigris nodded, a satisfied smile crossing her face. “Yes, do you like them? I thought it’d be nice, something familiar.”

“They’re beautiful, he’ll love them.” You plucked one of the stems from the vase in front of you, inspecting the perfect flower, so familiar. You’d always loved the Grandma’am’s roses, almost as much as Coryo did.

You were only able to talk for a moment, Tigris complimenting the way you'd done his hair, you gushing over his suit. You loved Tigris, really. But the national anthem began playing, and then there were cameras on you both and you tried to remember to sit up straight and keep your chin down.

The entire room erupted into cheers and claps and cries as Coriolanus entered, looking dazzling as ever. You even noticed Livia giving a hand, which sent a sense of satisfaction through you. "There he is! Our brand new President, it's Coriolanus Snow!" Lucky Flickerman had appeared out of nowhere again, and you could just hear him over the sound of the crowd. "And he's making his way over to his gorgeous first lady! I heard they've only been married three days."

You stifled a laugh at Lucky's overly dramatic performance, and then you felt almost self conscious, seeing all of the people looking towards you, the cameras pointed in your direction. Tigris touched a gentle hand to your arm to soothe you, and you just about managed a grin as Coryo approached.

He sat down next to you and you found his hand placed on the small of your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles just beside your spine. You let out a sigh of relief and smiled until the cameras turned away and the starting course of the meal served. "That was good, darling." Coryo spoke quietly. "Are you okay? You seem nervous."

"I am nervous." You turned toward him and placed a hand on his knee. "I'll get over it, though. First day jitters."

"Of course you will." And then he leaned down to whisper in your ear, hand creeping up your thigh under the cover of the tablecloth. "What do you think I could do to calm you down, hm?"

"Coryo." You hid a small smile and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. "People are watching."

"All the more fun." You turned to face him, noticing the half-concealed grin playing on his lips. Your eyes flickered out towards the crowd and cameras, guests were all chattering and eating, but the cameras stayed put, and Lucky continued his constant commentary of you. You imagined him, broadcasting to the entirety of Panem, that the brand new President was fingering his wife at the dinner table.

Coryo's hand wandered up even further, underneath your skirt, into your underwear. You sucked in a breath and made a sort of uncomfortable grunt, biting back a whine as two familiar fingers pressed into you. You gripped onto the tablecloth and Tigris turned to you, concern in her eyes. "Are you okay?" She asked and you nodded, too enthusiastically.

"I'm okay." You answered, but you knew your face wasn't communicating what you said, and Tigris' hand was pressed to your forehead before you could tell her again.

"You're hot, have you drank enough water today? And you're flushed, too-" Tigris was in the middle of pouring some water into the glass in front of you when Coryo cut in.

"She's okay, Tigris." He smiled at his cousin. "Wasn't feeling too well last night, were you, love?"

You shook your head, trying to act convincing while Coriolanus' fingers continued their assault inside of you. "Oh, honey! Well, get some rest tonight, okay?"

And then Tigris had turned back to her conversation with the Grandma'am, and you made a mental note to continue the narrative that you were sick, at least in front of Tigris. And then you noticed that Lucky was staring right at the two of you, massive grin on his face, as always, and the camera beside him was fixated on your table.

"Coryo, the cameras!" You hissed, but he silenced you, curling his fingers against your sensitive spot. You made another strangled sound, but Tigris didn't turn around this time, too invested in conversation with the Grandma'am.

"Shh," Coryo comforted you, nuzzling his forehead against your cheek in a way that could've been mistaken for a loving gesture for the cameras. "Let them see, honey. Just be quiet for me. My good girl."

He curled his fingers faster inside of you, so that you had to clamp your hand on your thigh to stop your legs from shaking aggressively, every now and again he'd lean down and say something like, "You're doing so well." or "So good for me." and your head would spin.

"Coryo," You whispered, a breathy moan falling from your lips, almost loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. "I'm getting close, you know how loud I get."

Dessert was being served, now, and you were almost glad that the avoxes didn't have tongues, because you were certain that the one placing your lemon tart in front of you had made a strange face whilst doing so.

Coryo's fingers brushed your sensitive spot once again, and you felt his hand on your back as it arched off of the chair, dimming the appearance of your arousal to the public. "I know. Not going to let you finish, not yet."

He pressed a short kiss to your temple and then pulled his fingers out of you, at which you huffed and pouted, he felt his cock throb, seeing you looking so bratty.

"Coryo!" You whined, bottom lip still jutting out. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" He asked, smirk playing on his face. He made you watch as he looked you straight in the eye, lifted his fingers to his lips - still glistening with your slick - and sucked them clean. "Mmh, so sweet, my girl. Now, I want you to go home, familiarise yourself with the mansion - you'll love it, by the way - and wait for me to get there. No touching yourself, you know the punishment for that."

A small smile grew on your face as you nodded. Coryo kissed your face, picked up your dessert fork and handed it to you, gesturing to the food in front of you. As you took your first bite, he slid his own across to the Senator sat next to him. The larger man looked at him with confusion in his eyes.

"You can take mine, already had something sweet."

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #coryo snow #president snow #rogue writes

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