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fairyysoup · 6 months ago

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easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again.

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever.

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you.

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world.

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing.

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you.

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you.

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt.

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture.

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough.

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you.

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him.

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else.

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me.

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk�� I want to get to know you.”

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?”

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.”

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.”

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.”

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur.

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear.

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?”

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.”

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t.

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now.

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected.

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin.

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier.

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate.

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is?

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet.

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window.

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes.

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins.

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?”

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now.

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder.

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again.

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan.

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs.

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue.

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief.

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.”

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.”

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it.

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again.

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you.

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap.

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness.

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head.

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does.

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down.

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet.

To keep you quiet.

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.”

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table.

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other.

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss.

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear.

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

#eric a quiet place day one #eric a quiet place x reader #a quiet place day one #roses*#eric x reader #eric a quiet place day one x you #eric a quiet place x you #eric a quiet place day one x reader #eric fan fiction #eric x you #joseph quinn

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btsbs · 2 years ago

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#sometimes being in this fandom after a few years following 1d just blows my mind #some fandom differences are so striking #there is…virtually zero content on here from yoongi’s first show?#i’m so used to a zillion posts of concert footage #maybe it’s spicier on twitter #i can’t make myself go there #are we all just depressed we’re not going?#i want some footage #let me live vicariously!#stage yoongi gimme gimme #i will be reblogging what I can find #with ‘live on tour!’#if anyone actually is trying to avoid it #can’t relate but 🤷🏻‍♀️

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brainddeadd · 2 months ago

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Five Times Quinn Proposes to His Girlfriend and One Time He Actually Asks

1. The Kitchen Proposal It was a lazy Sunday morning, the kind that begged for pancakes and soft, lingering hugs. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating the cheerful chaos of Quinn's cooking attempts. Flour dust settled like a gentle snow, and pancake batter splattered across the counter as he flipped yet another misshapen pancake.

“Okay, but hear me out,” he said, his voice teasing as he turned to face his girlfriend, leaning against the doorframe with a bemused smile. “If you say yes to my next pancake, we can call it a proposal.”

She raised an eyebrow, her laughter bubbling up as she watched him struggle. “What does that even mean?”

Quinn held up the golden pancake like it was a diamond ring, winking. “Will you marry me? Or will you settle for this delicious, slightly burnt masterpiece?”

She rolled her eyes playfully but stepped forward, taking the pancake from his hands with mock seriousness. “Only if you promise to never make pancakes again.”

“Deal!” he declared, his grin wide enough to rival the sun shining outside. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the pancake into the air, but it landed on the floor with a splat.

She burst out laughing, shaking her head. “This is why you’re not allowed in the kitchen without supervision!”

2. The Winter Wonderland Winter had transformed the city into a sparkling wonderland, and Quinn had convinced her to go ice skating. They bundled up in their warmest clothes, scarves wrapped snugly around their necks, and ventured to the nearby outdoor rink.

As they skated hand in hand, Quinn felt a rush of adrenaline. The cold air was refreshing, and the music playing in the background added a festive cheer. Suddenly, he paused, a wild idea striking him. Dropping to one knee on the ice, he raised an imaginary ring, his breath visible in the frosty air.

“Will you marry me?” he shouted, his voice echoing amidst the laughter of other skaters.

She stopped skating, her eyes wide in disbelief, laughter mixing with shock. “Quinn! You can’t propose on ice!”

“I can and I just did!” he replied, the playfulness in his tone infectious.

“Get up before you slip and break your knee!” she urged, trying to suppress her giggles.

“Too late! You have to answer now!” he teased, a gleam in his eye.

“Okay, okay! Yes!” she exclaimed, laughter spilling over as she reached down to help him up.

3. The Concert Surprise When their favorite band announced a surprise show in town, Quinn wasted no time in securing tickets for them. The energy in the air was electric, and they stood close together, the music vibrating through their bodies.

As the band played their favorite song, Quinn leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. “What if I proposed to you right here, right now?”

Her heart raced at the idea, and she pulled back to look into his eyes, excitement and disbelief dancing in her gaze. “In front of everyone?”

“Yeah! Just think of the stories we’d tell,” he replied, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face.

She giggled, shaking her head. “You’re insane!”

“Insanely in love with you!” he shot back, raising an imaginary ring over her head like a crown.

The chorus hit, and the crowd cheered, but all she could hear was Quinn’s laughter echoing in her heart, knowing he’d always find a way to make even the most ordinary moments extraordinary.

4. The Movie Night One rainy evening, they cozied up in their living room, surrounded by snacks and blankets. The perfect movie night atmosphere enveloped them as they settled in for a classic romantic film.

As the credits rolled and the romantic tension peaked, Quinn turned to her with a soft, earnest expression. “So, if I asked you to marry me during the climax of our movie, would you say yes?”

Her laughter filled the room, bright and infectious. “Only if you promise to let me pick the next movie! I’m not sitting through another one of your terrible action flicks.”

“Deal!” he chuckled, pulling her closer as they shared a bowl of popcorn. “But I might just have to keep proposing to you until you agree.”

She shook her head, unable to contain her smile. “Good luck with that!”

And as the rain pattered against the window, they knew their love story would be filled with all sorts of playful, ridiculous moments like this.

5. The Game Day On a particularly exciting game day, Quinn’s adrenaline was running high as the Vancouver Canucks faced off against their biggest rivals. Sitting in the hotel room after the game, he watches her face through the screen.

“You know,” he said, leaning closer to the camera, “if I proposed, it would definitely be the ultimate distraction from the game.”

“Only if you promise to be the star player in our love story,” she replied, a smirk dancing on her lips.

“Absolutely! I’ll score goals and love you forever,” he declared, making a heart with his hands, drawing laughter from her.

She leaned in closer to the phone, whispering, “Then you better hurry up and get me that ring!”

The Real Proposal Finally, on a serene Saturday morning, the sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow in the bedroom. The world outside was quiet, the only sound being the gentle rustle of sheets as they stirred. Wrapped up in each other’s warmth, Quinn felt a rush of calm wash over him as he watched her sleeping peacefully.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his heart swelling with love. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the one that felt right.

“Hey,” he whispered, gently coaxing her awake. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, revealing that soft smile he loved so much.

“Good morning,” she murmured, snuggling deeper into his embrace, warmth radiating from her.

Quinn took a deep breath, his heart racing. “I know I’ve jokingly proposed a million times, but this one is for real.”

She blinked at him, surprise and curiosity mixing in her gaze, and he felt a rush of nerves.

Reaching for the small velvet box he had hidden under the bed, he knelt beside her, heart pounding in his chest. “Will you marry me?”

As he opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside, her expression transformed into one of pure joy and disbelief. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth.

“Quinn! Is this real?” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Absolutely. I want to spend forever with you,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity and love.

“Yes! A thousand times, yes!” she replied, her laughter mixing with happy tears as she threw her arms around him.

With tears of happiness in her eyes, she whispered, “Forever.”

And at 7:23 AM, under the soft covers, they promised each other a lifetime of love, laughter, and all the ridiculous proposals yet to come. The world outside faded away as they wrapped their arms around each other, knowing this was just the beginning of their beautiful journey together.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes fanfic #° braindead writes

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gyuwoncheol · 1 year ago

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Room Service

↳ A part 2 to 15 Minutes

Pair: Scoups x f!reader

Genre: Smut, Concert!Cheol, husband!Cheol, dom!Cheol, 18+ only (MDNI).

Summary: The only thing hornier than pre-concert Cheol is post-concert Cheol. Lucky for you, you’re the only one in the world with an all-access VIP ticket to this immersive experience.

Warnings: Porn with plot, Concert!Cheol, dom!Cheol, daddy kink, breeding kink, big dick!Cheol, pussy drunk!Cheol, cock hungry!reader, so. many. orgasms., quickie sex, unprotected sex (stay safe, children), oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), lots of making out, creampieS, slightly public sex, dick riding, manhandling, pussy slapping (like once), use of color system, overstimulation, body worship, breast/nipple play, hair pulling, spitting, crying during and after sex (but it’s not a kink), dirty talk, use of pet names (my love, baby, princess, baby girl, angel), fluff at the end. Please let me know if i missed something, i can’t remember all the filth. Not thoroughly proofread.

WC: 4.1k

Author's Note: Did I get carried away? Hell yes. is this the filthiest thing I’ve ever written? Could be. Except the other wip I have also for Seungcheol might just beat it. Thank you so much again for the love on 15 Minutes. I hope this 2nd part lives up to it.

Author's 2nd Note: For new readers, you don’t have to read 15 Minutes as this can stand on its own, but it would make more sense if you did read it.

“My good girl.”

Seungcheol chuckled as he plunged deep into your cunt, his cock pushing through your mixed cum that you so diligently kept in as instructed, “so good at following instructions huh?”

“Fuck baby, you’re so messy” Cheol cursed, mouth watering at the sight of your stored cum slowly dripping out of your hole as he dragged out his entire length until only the tip was in. You groaned when you felt globs of it trickle down your thigh, your husband’s large hand slowly pushing you down against the back of the couch. You felt him engulf you, his chest against your back, hot breath on your ears, “cat got your tongue, babe?” The man teased just as he thrusted his length back into you, causing more cum to overflow from your hole.

It had only been roughly 30 minutes since the concert finally ended, the boys doing all the post show rituals from changing clothes to shooting backstage content, and as soon as that was over, Seungcheol had all but dragged you to another dressing room, not even saying anything as he unzipped your jeans and dragged your very soiled panties down. Not that you were surprised though, post-concert was always when Cheol was the horniest, with all that adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

You could feel the prominent vein on his cock drag through your walls deliciously as he alternated between slow and fast thrusts, an arm snaked around your torso while hot phrases flew from his mouth.

“Fuck, pussy so tight.”

“All mine.”

“I’ll give you all my babies.”

“Gon’ pump you full.”

“My good girl so desperate for cum.”

“Cheol!” You screeched in between moans when you felt him hit that sensitive spot particularly rough.

“Did you watch me tonight, baby? Why weren’t you in the stands?” He asked suddenly, as if he wasn’t still railing you from behind.

“C-couldn’t g-go” you squeaked, willing yourself to form words when all you really wanted to do was whimper in pleasure, “had to… be— behave… fuck!”

“Behave?” Cheol clarified even though he sensed where this was going. In all the times they rushed backstage in between sets, not once had you moved from your spot, sitting cross legged on top of the large black trunk cases situated right in front of the screen which broadcasted the events on stage. “Words, baby” he said sweetly yet firmly when he saw you nod eagerly.

“Yes! Behave. Had t-to… k-keep.. shiiiiit,” you groaned, your elbows harshly rubbing on the leather material of the couch after another rough entry of Cheol’s cock, “keep da-daddy’s… cum… in me.” You finished off your defense and you could already see your husband’s smirk without even really looking at him.

“Aren’t. You. Such. An. Angel.” Seungcheol punctuated each word with a deep harsh thrust.

“And all yours.” You punctuated as you looked back at him, both your eyes glazing in lust. The loud sound of skin slapping skin and your pussy squelching at every thrust was unmistakable, the room smelled of sex. The group’s leader was sweating even more than he did when he got off stage, his warmth radiating onto your body as he kept you impossibly close to him, jackhammering his cock in your cunt.

“Shit shit shit shit..” you cried out loud when his other hand suddenly rubbed fast circles on your clit.

“FUCK!” Seungcheol growled at your release, your pussy clamping down on him so tightly that it triggered his own. He stilled within you in an instant, bodies folded in half against the leather couch, your husband continuously muttering incoherent words as the feeling of your fluttering walls drove him to another level of cloud 9.

“Yah! You two better eat already if you’re really planning to go all night” Seungkwan scolded in his best mom voice when the both of you entered the buffet area hand in hand.

You hid your face on Cheol’s shoulders, suddenly very aware of all 12 boys looking your way. They were very much aware of what you two had been doing and why you were doing it. In spite of the never ending teasing and playful disgusted looks they give their leader, the members had all told you they were excited for Cheol to become a dad mostly because it meant he’d get off their asses.

“We’re actually going ahead. We’ll take a different car.” Your husband announced, a gentle squeeze to your hand when some of the boys howled at the implication of both of you going back to the hotel first.

“Really not wasting any time huh?” Soonyoung smirked despite having his mouth full of noodles

“What? She’s leaving soon!” Seungcheol whined.

“Y/n still has a week left!!” Mingyu corrected with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, still not enough!” Cheol replied. He gave a curt nod to Jeonghan, calling his name firmly as if to say ‘i leave the kids with you.’

“Hyung, seriously, you both have to eat.” DK was next to remind you both as he knows you’re both still running on empty stomachs.

“We’ll get room service,” your husband called out, inching closer towards the exit doors that would lead you to the vans.

“We hope it's the food kind! And maybe let y/n get some real sleep after!” Joshua’s reminder had you giggling, glad enough to know the boys still cared for you even though all you’ve done was hog all of Seungcheol’s free time.

Surprisingly, you had both managed to stay well behaved in the car ride home. If anything, you two were very sweet, your head resting on Cheol’s shoulders as he held your hand through the ride and absentmindedly played with your fingers.

Even when you had both showered together in the hotel room, your husband did not try to make any advances, he simply cleaned you both up, even giving you a nice massage on your scalp when you lathered your favorite shampoo.

Contrary to what his members may think, Seungcheol wasn’t too adamant about fucking you all night. He could see how tired you actually are and Mingyu was right, you did still have a week left with him. He just wants to make sure you are cared for like his queen this whole trip, whether that meant blowing your back or giving you 8 hours of sleep, he didn’t mind.

“Tired, baby?” He asked as he secured the knot on your fluffy hotel robe.

You lazily smiled at him as you settled in bed, pulling him towards you for good measure. “I’m ok.”

“Hungry? Wanna get some food now?”

“Want you to kiss me.”

Seungcheol was taken aback by the boldness of your request, not because it was the first time you asked, but because you both have definitely done more than just kissing these past 72 hours. He smiled sheepishly as he climbed over you, settling on your side as his chapped lips kissed your soft ones. You clutched onto his hand on your neck, sighing happily when you felt him deepen the kiss.

“Someone’s happy,” a low chuckle from your husband.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “i love your kisses.” Despite the raunchy sex, there was always just something so nice and intimate about kissing your husband. His lips were always so plump against yours and the way he’d hold you securely always made you feel like you meant the world to him.

“You’re so beautiful, i love you so much,” Seungcheol admired your bare face before sucking on your lower lip.

You moaned out an i love you too but it only got swallowed by the man who couldn’t get enough of you. You climbed on his lap, trapping him in between your legs, taking control of this little makeout session you were having. Inevitably, the more you kissed him, the more your hips moved on its own accord, grinding on Cheol’s robe-covered bottom half.

You were moving erratically, wanting to chase a high you knew you needed if you were to fit Cheol’s dick again tonight.

“Daddy, please...” you cried, annoyed that you just couldn’t get to where you wanted to be

“Please what, baby girl?”

You whined desperately at the dangerously low tone in your ear, “please make me cum.”

Record time is what you’d call it, the way Seungcheol went from flipping you over to casting your robe open to having his mouth suck on your clit harshly. You couldn’t even process it, all you knew was your throat was straining from how you were screaming his name with how he lapped at your cunt. His tongue licked bold stripes from your hole to your clit before he'd suck the sensitive bud. If there's anything Cheol has perfected, it's his hand-mouth coordination, the way he perfectly syncs his plush lips to suck at your clit while two fingers sink in you and curl to graze that spongy spot inside your walls. It should really have you embarrassed at how quick it could unravel the coil in your stomach. Your orgasm exploding in colorful bursts behind your eyes whilst soaking your husband's face in a mess.

"I forgot how sweet you fucking taste," he groaned, slurping the juices leaking from your hole. He peeked up at you from where he was, your mouth agape and chest rising and falling while your fingers still gripped on his hair. You were hissing from oversensitivity but you should've known that post-concert Cheol was a starved man. When he deemed he had swallowed all of you, three fingers prodded at your entrance that had you arching your back from the bed only to be pushed down with your husband's free arm. "Stay still, baby. Daddy's not done yet."

"Fuuuuuuck, " you panted, going delirious from the overstimulation your pussy was feeling. You writhed in vain as Cheol smothered your cunt like a full course meal. When you tried to squirm away, he delivered a slap to your pussy that sent shocks all over your body. "I'm cu- fuck! I'm cumming," you shuddered, thighs closing in on your husband's head.

Seungcheol chuckled at your state, a proud grin across his face when he finally settled beside you. After pulling back to back orgasms from you in less than 10 minutes, he knew you were oversensitive and just needed to not be touched. "You okay, my love?"

"Just.." you panted, "Just a minute."

You rolled over on your stomach when you regained enough strength, and slowly but surely got on your wobbly knees to climb on your husband's thick thighs. Seungcheol wanted to squeeze your bare breasts but seeing as you were still slightly swaying, he decided to hold you securely by the waist. "what're you doing?" He mused while watching you fumble with the knot of his robe.

His dick twitched at the sight of your lust blown, hooded eyes. "Daddy..." You smiled, god, you were so far gone, "Wanna ride you."

Seungcheol moaned, hurriedly helping you untie his robe and throwing it to the floor. You salivated at the sight of his hard cock slapping against his stomach, red tip leaking with precum. Anchoring your palms on his chest, you kept your eyes trained on him as you sucked on your tongue before letting some of your saliva drool onto his length, your hand immediately gripping and spreading the fluid along his shaft, thumb grazing at the slit.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, hips bucking into your hand on instinct. A wicked smile crossed your face, delighted with the effect your actions had on him.

Cheol's eyes rolled to the back of his head when you finally let your pussy glide against his cock, coating it even more in your wetness.

"Fuck baby, what's gotten into you?" He hissed as you picked up your pace, grinding his cock against your wet folds, always making sure to let the tip kiss your clit when you move down. "So fucking needy for daddy's cock huh?"

You moaned when one of his large hand squeezed your right breast and his dick leaked more precum onto his stomach. The sight of you, head falling back and mouth parted, was immaculate. He wished he remembered where his phone was right now, it would've been the perfect photo to take for him to get off on in the future. He committed it to memory as best he could, but even that thought immediately flew away when he finally felt you sink into his dick.

"Oh my god,” you moaned in unison.

Seungcheol wasn't so sure if he was wincing from your nails digging into his chest or from the vice grip of your cunt on his cock, but either way, both felt like heaven to him. "Baby girl, you just came twice and you're still so fucking tight.”

"C-can take you, daddy. Please... p-promise!" You begged, lowering yourself to take in a few more inches of him. The stretch was familiar yet it still had you squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip.  Afraid he wouldn't be able to stay still any longer, Cheol took the matter in his own hands, sitting up to bring your chest flush against his, connecting your lips in a heated kiss to distract you from the pain. He still tasted of you and a slight hint of your minty toothpaste. When he felt you relax, his strong hold sank you onto him until he was fully sheathed. You broke from the kiss, head falling back once again at the overwhelming feeling of being so full.

"Cmon, baby, thought you wanted to ride me?" He sucked on the column of your throat, causing you to swivel your hips. "There you go. You can do it." God, his voice was so sinful it made your insides churn. Another strangled moan left your mouth when his wet tongue made contact with your right nipple, licking and sucking before he kissed between the valley of your breasts, only to nip at your left bud.

"Oh my god, Cheol!" You pulled at his hair, wanting him to leave your sensitive breasts alone.

He laughed dryly at your attempt but still allowed you that space. He let go of your waist to lean back with his palms against the mattress to have a full view of you. "Cmon baby," He spurred on, "show daddy what you got."

Choi Seungcheol was simply left with no regrets at his challenge. His eyes almost turned completely black when you decided to fully bounce on him. When you found a good pace, you alternated between bouncing and grinding, one hand squeezing your breast as the other held onto his knee for support. "Fuck, daddyyy," you cried at the stretch, and he could just feel your pussy clenching on his cock even more.

"So fucking needy," he spat, "Can't get enough of my cock."

You shook your head at his words, mewling when your clit rubbed deliciously at his pelvis and his engorged head kissed your cervix. "D-daddy.."

"That's it, baby girl," Seungcheol cooed, bucking his hips up to meet yours, "get off on me, ride me 'til you shake. Need you to cum, princess."

Encouraged by your husband's words, you lifted ‘til just the tip was in before sitting down on him harshly. He continued to praise you and how delicious your warm pussy felt, a string of very lewd words produced with every swivel of your hips. Your face contorted in pleasure and he knew you were close, "touch yourself," came his instructions.

"shit!" You cursed, cumming on the spot when two of your fingers rubbed against your clit.

Seungcheol beamed at how well he knew you, your tells and your triggers when you're about to cum. But what he didn't see coming was just how fast the sight of you getting off on top of him would quickly bring him to the edge too. If he didn’t catch it at the last second, he might have just spilled in you.

In one swift motion, not even pulling out of you, he flipped you on your back and trapped you under his weight. You yelped when he pumped into you, catching you off guard as you were still trying to ride out your own orgasm.

"Ba-aby, fuck. You're d-driving me insane," he growled, "don't you dare fucking close your eyes. Keep 'em on me."

Your fingers weaved through his hair, as you desperately tried to follow his instructions. If only he wasn't hell bent on reaching his high, Seungcheol would've laughed at how often you'd train your eyes to look at him every time they kept trying to roll to the back of your head. "Daddy's gonna fuck a baby in you, you want that, princess?"

"Y-yes daddy! yes!" You mewled, both your legs being lifted up, calves resting on Seungcheol’s meaty shoulders, while he inserted a pillow below your ass. "Fuck me full, daddy, please,” a breathless request.

He folded you in half, planting his knees on the mattress and bracing himself on your sides. Seungcheol drove his cock into you, hitting you so deep that you felt him just below your cervix and you moaned the loudest that night. Strangled moan after strangled moan came out of your mouth while throaty grunts and curse words flew off from his, all this mixed with the explicit sound of your sweaty bodies colliding.

"m-more, daddy! More, please!"

"Fuuuuuuck, you're insatiable, so fucking tight," Seungcheol moaned. His movements were rough, pulling out of you completely before fully slamming back in and going deep with every move. The sex was everything close to animalistic, you could feel him in the deepest parts of you, consistently hitting a spot that made your brain short circuit. "So needy for my cum, want to be filled so bad."

"Daddy, so- oh my god. So fucking big.”

“Princess, I-I’m.. s-so...close,” he warned, staring at your teary eyes while your hands intertwined behind his neck. Seungcheol buried his cock in you, not bothering to thrust out of your grip, instead grinding endlessly to help stimulate your clit against his pelvis.

"Cum with me, Cheollie. P-please."

Your husband growled before his hips jerked twice, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls white. His eyes boring into yours and the feeling of being so full only triggered your own release, rendering you into a babbling mess. Seungcheol connected your mouths in a kiss, not caring that you were already out of breath. He interspersed them with praises of how good you felt clenching on his cock.

"I love you, Cheollie."

"I know baby, I know. I love you too," he breathed, hissing at how hard he still was despite just hitting his climax. His dick was almost painful in your tight hold, "give me one more, yeah?"

Before you could even process his question, you were already flipped on all fours, whining at the temporary emptiness. "Wha- Cheol, I-"

"Be good for daddy, yeah? One more, princess. One more to get you round and full." But who were you to deny your Choi Seungcheol? Your husband who was just as ready to start a family with you like he's always dreamed of. Your arms gave way when you felt him breach your abused hole once more, your limp body allowing him to control your hips even more. He was kneading your ass, surely leaving handprints in his wake.

"Ch- ahh!" You cried in a silent scream, the pleasure you were feeling just devouring your every being. You could feel the goosebumps rise on you scalp and run to the tips of your toes as Seungcheol pounded you from behind. "Cheollie... Oh.. oh! fu-uuuck."

He pulled you by your hair harshly, your back flush against his chest, the low rumble of his voice affecting your body, "Call me Cheollie again and you won't get to cum."

"Daddy!" you whined apologetically, tears freely flowing down your cheeks.

"There you go, not so hard huh, princess?" Seungcheol teased, an arm wrapping around your shoulders while the other cupped at your cunt. "Color, my love?"

"G-green, daddy.. Pl-Please... just j-ust cum in me."

"Fuck, you sound so broken... So greedy for my cum." Seungcheol relentlessly fucked up into you, until his pace grew erratic and bent you both forward. He stopped himself with his forearm to the mattress so as not to crush you, but with your muscles already weak, you simply face planted into the soft hotel pillows, drool and tears staining the white sheets.

"All mine," your husband chanted repetitively, stilling inside your pussy as it clenched around him tightly. Your orgasm rippled through you in a big tidal wave that Seungcheol could just feel your slick coat him anew. Your whole body shook uncontrollably, jolts of electricity alighting all your nerves. With one last loud call of your name, Seungcheol shot his load inside you, white ropes of sticky cum filling your cunt to the brim. His own thighs trembling as he finally collapsed on you, knocking out the little air you had left. He whispered i love you's to your ear, riding out his own orgasm which lasted longer than the both of you expected, especially when he just came a few minutes ago.

In your two years of marriage, you don't think you've ever been this spent after sex, and neither did Seungcheol. But nothing catches his attention faster than the sound of you sniffing followed by a tiny hiccup. He moves up and pulls out of you so quickly that he hisses harshly, but you whine out even louder, causing alarm bells to ring in his head.

"nooo..." you cry pathetically, your voice barely above a whisper, "come back."

"Baby, what's wrong?" Seungcheol pulls you towards him, eyes scanning your body for any abnormal pain, dreading the next few words out of his mouth, "did I hurt you?"

You shook your head no, your hands grabbing at his chest to pull yourself closer to him and bury your face in his neck.

"Princess..." he started gently, still not completely sure if you were really okay. "I need your words. Need you to tell me if I hurt you."

You choked as you tried to speak, voice straining from all the noises you've made tonight, but you were well aware your crying did nothing to comfort your husband. "I'm okay."

"Was I too much?"

"No. Never." You assured with a soft kiss on his chest. "So good to me."

Seungcheol let out a sigh of relief at your words. "Wanna tell me why you're crying?" He asked, moving you both on your side so he could look at you properly, one hand soothing your back. His warm breath tickled your face, as he tried to wipe away your tears with the softest look in his eyes.

You felt another squeeze in your heart while warmth crept up in your cheeks, both your hands instinctively covering your face when tears pricked at your eyes once more. You mumbled something but Cheol couldn't really understand and he didn't want to push, so he held you tighter instead, leaving kisses on your shoulder as his free hand brushed your hair. He could feel your tears wet his neck and shoulder and he willed himself to stay patient and calm.

"I'm sorry," you squeaked after a long bout of silence between you two, "am I scaring you?"

"A little bit," Seungcheol chuckled.

You looked up into his eyes, wanting to make sure he knows he did nothing wrong, "I'm just overwhelmed," your voice began to crack again at the last word, "I... I just... I really want a family with you, Cheol," you sobbed, your hands attempting to cover your face again but your husband was quick enough to grab at them. His own cupped your face instead, a thumb wiping at your tears as he let out the brightest smile, his own cheeks dusted in a light pink shade. "I really want this to work, Cheol."

"I do, too, baby but in our own time, yeah? If it’s for us, then it will happen one way or another. Let's not pressure ourselves too much. I don't want you to pressure yourself too much," your husband comforted, "Besides, with or without kids, I already have you... and Kkuma… you're already family to me."

You were pretty sure you felt your heart grow a size bigger at his words, mentally thanking the heavens you had a husband who adored and loved you so much.

Your moment was cut off by the incessant buzz of a phone and when you looked towards the bedside table to check, sure enough your device was vibrating towards the edge. Picking it up to stop the ring, your eyes grew wide at the notification that flashed on top of the screen, a smile dancing on your lips as you comprehended the app’s words in black font.

"Cheollie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm ovulating."

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated ☺️

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standamianwayne · 26 days ago

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yandere!batfam/damian’s twin!reader

okay so! in these neglected!reader fics Dick is almost always the one who’s like trying to reach out the most. because of this, personally(!) i feel like he’s the kinda guy who just wants his family to be whole so he kinda takes up the position of like father+brother combined (eldest child syndrome lowkey). he kinda becomes the most present figure in the twins’ lives and i think it goes double for reader tbh.

like breakfast lunch dinner Dick is right there with her and yaps her ear off. i think that where Bruce is the kinda dad that wants you to finish what you start, Dick is the kinda brother that’s like “if you don’t wanna do it, then don’t” ykwim? wanna do ballet? he’s at every recital. hate it? well, it wasn’t for you anyways! any practice, game, show, concert, he’s there. and if you decide you absolutely hate whatever it is, he’s there for you too!

just like general supportive older brother, but turned up juuuust a smidge. i feel like in the yandere aspect, he’s not really the type to go try and murder someone. sure he might hurt someone, but he’d at least want to avoid murder. it’s more like he’s gonna try and keep her home/with him as much as possible. like where are you going? it’s family game night! when did we start family game nights? don’t worry about it! now come on, it’s monopoly.

jason, on the other, WOULD probably kill someone. buuuuut i think it’s more so if she get physically hurt by someone would he be pushed to murder. emotionally? he’ll probably just beat them up and threaten them. but if they put their hands on her? mmm yeah you’re dead. sorry!

i feel like jason, who’s literally died and come back to life consumed by rage, would see reader as the opposite of himself. as good, where he is bad. and i think that on one hand he wants to push her away, to not taint her with the darkness that consumes him. but on the other hand, he’s had so much taken from him, seen death at every corner, even met the man face-to-face. can’t he be selfish just this once?

so, in the early hours of the morning, before the sun comes up and his duty as Red Hood is done for the night, he seeks her out. he comes back to the manor, climbing through her bedroom window. she’s still asleep and he just stands there, listening, watching, reminding himself that she is alive and so is he. he doesn’t touch her, he can’t— can’t poison her good with his bad. so, he settles for observing. maybe one day he can work up the courage to speak with her, seek her comfort. but for now, he’s content with simply existing around her.

tim is also an observer in like a borderline stalker kinda way. makes everybody download life360 but he watches her location like a hawkkkk. also gifts her a phone that’s totally safe i swear! don’t mind that any texts from an ex or someone that you have bad blood disappear right after you get them. they probably just unsent them!

he’s like Dick in that he tries to convince her to stay home often. but his way of doing it is… different. you wanna go for a walk on this street? actually there’s footage of a robbery that took place near there recently, probably not safe. wanna go to a friend’s house? um, according to their school records, they got detention in 5th grade. that’s a bad influence, girl! don’t worry, we can play mario kart or something instead!

with duke i feel like, compared to the others, he’s the closest you’ll get to a regular brother. he’s the closest in age to the twins and he joined the batfam after damian in canon. he’s also very kind and soft(?) so it’s unlikely he’s gonna go full stalker and/or killer over his sister. don’t get me wrong, he could kick ass if needed. but when it comes to reader, he’s mostly just trying to bond with her. watching movies in his room, sneaking out to get ice cream together, even at the ‘Wayne Galas’ he’ll stick by her side.

duke is veryyy caring and passionate, plus i feel like he’s sympathetic as well. so when you need comforting, he’s probably the best to go to. cause he won’t be the kind to go find whoever made you upset and ‘talk to’ them. instead, he’s gonna comfort his sis! unless it was someone who physically hurt her, then he’ll probably pay them a visit. but he’s not gonna kill them, i just can’t see him doing that.

next up the batgirls 😛 just as a note this is all my interpretation of the characters. if you think it’s ooc, no you didn’t ❤️

also does anyone have a preference of using third person (she, her) or second (you, your)? i might switch to ‘you’ when i write the batgirls so its not confusing, but if anyone has a preference, let me know!

and thank you all so much for the love on the first part!!!! i’ve never uploaded fanfic before so this is so new to me 😅 but i appreciate it sm! love yall! ❤️

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rafeskiss · 8 months ago

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pretty voice ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: you’re a singer and your tour has made its way to boston where your boyfriend and his brothers attend your show. matt is sure to let you know how well you did after the show

warnings: smut duhhhh, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap his willy!!), p in v, throat fucking, dumbification, dacryphilia, stomach bulge, swearing, creampie, use of “y/n”, probably more that i can’t think of! :)

authors note: fair warning, this is my first time publishing smut, so don’t have insanely high expectations! i’ve written it before but never shared so keep that in mind. however, i can assure you this isn’t completely horrible and i did my best to make it seem realistic but hot at the same time :) hope ya like it!

you had been counting down the days until your sold out world tour made its way to boston, massachusetts. your boyfriend, matt, and his brothers were set to attend the show which made you feel slightly uneasy.

the triplets have never seen you perform live, which is what makes this show so special. you wanted matt to know you were good at what you do. so, you paced around your dressing room doing vocal warmups and eating tablespoons of honey to help your throat.

a stage worker knocked on your door twice before coming in and attaching your mic pack to the back of your dress. tonight, you wore a black strapless mini dress from versace that had hearts of many colors scattered across. you paired this with knee high black boots, which your friends referred to as your “stripper shoes”. you fixed your hair, spraying some dry shampoo on your roots and mentally said a prayer before walking out of the dressing room.

you received your cue to enter the stage, walking up 4 steps before you were greeted with hundreds of screaming teenage girls. you forgot about needing to impress matt.

that was, until, you locked eyes with him. he was standing on the second floor of the venue, the balcony, resting against the railing. watching you so intently, mouthing the lyrics to your songs. nick was singing along to all the songs he knew, while chris just knew the popular songs. but matt knew almost all of your songs. he was your biggest fan. and you were his. most times, you would be spotted attending the triplet’s shows when your schedules aligned. you’d stand backstage, just barely out of the crowds sight. all decked out in blue attire to support your boy, and even the things the rest of the world couldn’t see were blue, too. but matt got to see them after the show. your blue bra and matching blue panties; it drove matt crazy how he got to see you like that after the show, especially if he was the one winning that night.

the show came to an end and you said your goodbyes to the boston crowd, exiting the stage. you walked into a lounge area where the triplets were, along with members of your team. you were swarmed with the usual compliments: “you sounded so good” or “you look great” and you were grateful for them, but tonight they didn’t matter. the only person who’s input you cared about was matt.

he approached you, draping his arms around your neck and you wrapped yours around his waist. he whispered in your ear, “you did so good. ‘m so proud of you.”

you blushed at this, pulling away from the hug. “thanks,” you gushed.

since your next show wasn’t until saturday, you had two days to kill here in boston. you were going to stay with the triplets until you had to get back on your tour bus and depart from matt, so you had to make it count.

matt drove you all home, you took chris’ place in the passenger seat, still in your performance outfit. the drive home was filled with conversation about the concert; what their favorite part was, what songs they liked, etc. and while you were a decently known singer, you never felt famous. until now. matt made you feel famous, like you are on top of the world. you have everything you’ve ever wanted; friends that support you, a successful singing career, and a hot boyfriend. what more could a girl ask for?

you walked through the door barefoot, matt holding your unusually heavy boots. he sets them on the floor by the door as you make a run for the couch, laying down and sighing. while it may be just a simple couch, it feels pretty damn good after wearing “stripper shoes” and prancing around on a stage for an hour and a half.

nick and chris go to their own rooms, knowing you and matt need alone time after not seeing each other for a couple weeks. matt joins you on the couch, he lifts your head up and places it on his lap. his legs were your pillow and the only thing missing was a blanket, still in your tiny dress.

“you cold?” he asks, almost as if he can your mind.

you smile, “how’d you know?”

he reaches to his side and grabs a big blue blanket and tosses it over you, it’s big enough that it covers your whole body.

matt lightly strokes your hair as you lay there in the comfortable silence.

the way your head rests is so close to his dick and he can’t help it if it slowly is getting harder, which it is. you tease him, nuzzling your head deeper into his lap, a.k.a. his dick, which causes him to speak up.

“the fuck are you doing?” he laughs.

you play it off, “just getting comfy!”

“yeah, comfy my ass.” he rolls his eyes playfully.

you press a small kiss to his clothed bulge, he’s wearing baggy jeans and his dick still stands out. he sighs, not complaining.

“you gonna do this right here? in the living room?” he questions.

“mhm..” you hummed. he helped you unbutton his jeans, his black calvin kleins peaking out through the zipper of his jeans. he pulled his boxers down, revealing his dick. he was packing a very pleasant 8 inches that wasn’t too shabby in girth either.

you licked the tip first, then you licked from shaft to tip. matt closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch. he placed his hands on the back of your head, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

“voice sounded so good tonight, y/n,” he breathed. “bet it would still sound good if i fucked your throat.”

he pushes your head down all the way to his pelvis, feeling you gag against his cock. he thrusts into your mouth, the wet sounds like music to his ears.

as he fucked your throat, you felt tears forming in your eyes. you hollowed out your cheeks and looked up at him with doe eyes, laying on your stomach on the couch. you admired the way his eyes fluttered shut everytime he hit the back of your throat, how he’d let out small breathy moans.

“fuck,” he whispers, pulling away. he pulls his boxers down farther so his thighs are exposed. you climb on top of hip and he rolls your tight dress up to your waist, pulling your panties to the side.

“easy access, huh?” he remarks.

you whine, “put it in already…”

his dick enters you and he wastes no time slamming you down on it, his hands firmly gripping your hips. “want it so bad, yeah? you want it so bad?” he taunts, lifting you up and slamming you back down fast.

you are shocked with the speed he did that, not able to form a full sentence. “i- uhm- mhm,” you mumble.

“use that pretty voice of yours, y/n. such a pretty voice… let me hear it,” he rasped.

you bounced on his dick, the couch shaking. “mmmmm, i love your dick so much,” you moaned.

matt smirked, “there’s that pretty voice. so, so pretty.” he continued helping you bounce on his dick, his tip repeatedly hitting your g-spot.

he pulled the top of your dress down, revealing your bra-less tits. now your dress was basically like a belt, just covering your waist. your boobs bounced perfectly in front of his face, he was mesmerized.

you brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through it and pulling it when he’d hit your g-spot.

you let out a moan that was almost melodic, matt moaning after. “love hearing you moan on my dick.” he spoke. he gripped your hips tighter, slamming you down harder onto his dick every time.

“i’m gonna- oh god!” you whined.

“do it.” matt instructed. “cum for me.”

you nodded, babbling incoherently as you came undone on top of him. his right hand left your hip and found it’s way to your clit, rubbing you through the orgasm.

“fucked ya dumb, huh? damn,” he said.

you hummed in response, and once your orgasm passed you started bouncing again, desperate for more.

matt turned you around and pushed you onto the couch, in missionary now. now he can pound into you way easier, which is what you’re trying to ask for but you’re unable to speak.

“i— oh—“ you try.

matt smirks, “words, baby.”

this fucker, you thought. there are no thoughts inside your head other than how good his dick feels inside you, there’s no way you can speak.

“oh god… so, umph,” you sobbed as he thrusted into you with an insane amount of force. “so good,”

his thumb found its way to your clit again, rubbing it fast. your eyes rolled back as another orgasm approaches you.

“uhhh- uh—“ you babble. your brain is mush at this point, you don’t notice the bulge in your stomach. but matt does, as his hand leaves your clit and presses on the bulge his dick makes in your tummy with every thrust.

“look at that,” he says proudly. you squirm beneath him, cumming yet for the second time.

his thrusts don’t slow down, and neither do the tears running down your pink cheeks.

“can i cum inside you?” he asks as if you can even answer him. you let out a bunch of moans in response.

you let out a bunch of moans, “i’m gonna take that as a yes.” matt groans before thrusting into you once more. you lay on the couch with your dress still pulled over your pussy and your breasts pulled out.

matt stands up and pulls his boxers and pants up. he plants a kiss on your forehead before he picks you up and carries you to his room. he lays you down in his bed, his silk bedsheets feeling good on your overheated skin.

you’re exhausted, you feel like you melt into his bed. you’re on the verge of sleep but you’re startled when you hear either chris or nick’s bedroom door open.

you lift your head up, and matt opens the door to see what is going on. matt laughs and closes the door.

“what’s he doing?” you ask sleepily.

“nicks wiping the couch down,” matt giggles.

you hear nick through the walls, “i’m gonna fucking cry. never do that shit again.” he whines.

#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets smut #smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #how tf do i even tag this

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versupital · 2 months ago

Text

↳˗ˏˋexhaust pipeˊˎ˗ suguru geto.

╰┈➤ a pretty thing like you all alone with a stalled car in a foreign city is the recipe for disaster, but a kind motorcyclist stops to offer help and - now you’re staring at your own fucked-out reflection in his helmet.

word count.ᐟ 9.7k

content.ᐟMASK KINK. FOOD PLAY. IMPACT PLAY. PROTECTED AND UNPROTECTED. STRANGERS TO LOVERS. ALT!GETO. CUNNILINGUS. EDGING. SLIGHT SPIT KINK. DEGRADATION/DEGRADING NICKNAMES. AFTERCARE. AFAB!READER.

a/n: so this will switch POVs to give my masc/amab!readers out there a chance to step into the story. i hope you guys enjoy suguru’s pining over reader :)

➗

You can’t make this shit up.

The roar of cars speeding by is not helping the anchor in your stomach at the thought of being trapped on a foreign interstate in the middle of the night.

You’d just left a concert, it’s about three hours from your hometown, and you hadn’t bothered with a hotel because you knew you could make the drive. You had not accounted for your car deciding to stall on the highway, though.

And now it’s late at night. The moon winks at you knowingly, as if trying to tell you it’s going to be alright, but dread has already poisoned your nerves. You’re alone and vulnerable, and you don’t know where to go or who to call.

You find yourself crying in your passenger seat, phone battery nearly drained, the cold of the dark seeping through your clothes. You’re in the typical skimpy outfit that one wears to concerts and you’re cussing out the you who’d chosen something so non-weather friendly.

You nearly fold and call your parent, when an engine popping gets your attention. You look up and see a motorcyclist pointing to his right, signaling that he is merging across the lanes. Cars slow to allow him over until his revving engine gets louder to indicate his speed. You think he’s heading for the exit as he approaches the last lane but then - to your complete surprise he slows at the last minute and pulls onto the shoulder, feet walking along the asphalt as his motorcycle comes to a stop.

He pulls right behind your car and your stomach tightens with worry.

The man has thick forearms snaked in ink-black artwork, and black cargo pants that cause him to blend into the night like a thief. His boots are thick-soled and all you can imagine is him overpowering you and kicking in your skull.

He props out his kickstand, and your body tingles with fear as the stranger throws himself off of the bike and walks towards you, a backpack bouncing between his shoulders.

“Hey,” he shouts underneath his helmet, which is a black void that does not show a glimpse of his face underneath. “Everything okay?”

“No,” you sob, wiping your eyes before putting your hand on your pepper spray. “What do you want?”

“Relax,” the stranger puts his gloved hands in the air, “I just want to help you. Your car not working?”

You sniffle, keeping your hand on the pepper spray but softening the tension in your shoulders at his calm demeanor. “No, it stalled and won’t turn back on.”

The stranger does not make any noise for a second, but you see his chest rising and falling underneath his tight black shirt.

“Alright, um,” he glances at the heavyweight watch on his wrist, clearly noting how late it is. “There aren’t going to be any towing companies open this late. But I’m a mechanic, I can give you a ride home and then we can come back in the morning with my tools to give it a look.”

You shake your head, “I live three hours from here.”

“What? You aren’t staying somewhere close for the night?” he questions, voice full of surprise.

“No,” you shake your head, “I appreciate your offer, but I am going to sleep in my car until you return.”

He stands frozen for a second before leaning one hand against your car and ducking his masked head towards you. Though you can’t see his eyes, you can feel them.

“Absolutely not, you can crash with me,” he says softly. “I’ll let you sleep in my room, door locked. I know you’re probably going to say no, but…”

At this point, you have to weigh your options: stay in your car and risk someone breaking or crashing into it while you sleep, or take the gamble of getting kidnapped and murdered by the way-too-polite stranger whose face you haven’t even seen.

“Take off your helmet,” you hear yourself saying suddenly, fearing you’ve already made your decision, and it’s definitely an irrational one.

He doesn’t speak another word before his gloved hands come up and he pries the helmet off of his head, majestically shaking his black locks free and then staring down at you. His eyes are dreamy, twinkling at you as he raises his eyebrows, one of which has a silver bar pierced through it. His bottom lip has two similar hoops on it. He’s devastatingly beautiful.

With an all too-knowing smirk, he leans towards you again. “Do I look scary or something?”

Your voice is hoarse when you speak again. “Quite the opposite,” you say. “You don’t look like you’ll kill me…” you pause to take a deep breath. “So I accept your offer.”

“Great,” he smiles charmingly, propping his helmet on his hip before offering a hand to help you up out of your car. “You like Indian food? We can get takeout on the way home. Or… whatever you’d like. You’ve been through enough without me telling you what you’re going to eat, I mean…” he tapers off after his nervous babble, and you can’t help the little thump that awakens in your chest.

“No, Indian is perfect,” you say, engaging a smile, dropping your pepper spray before taking his hand and allowing yourself to be lifted with one swift pull.

He waits patiently for you to collect your things, and then puts them in his backpack, which he hands to you.

“You’ll be my replacement backpack for now,” he says, before grabbing your hand again.

You shouldn’t feel the way you do, all tingly and exhilarated. You should be on guard, with your hands free to defend yourself. Yet there’s something about those deep, lavender eyes that make you want to bounce up and down jump in and drown.

Cars continue to fly by without regard for the two of you being vulnerable pedestrians. Some don’t even bother to merge over. Wind blows your skirt and you flatten it down with a free hand, grateful the man’s attention is on trying to get you safely to his bike.

As he leads you to the motorcycle, you realize you’ll need to wear a helmet in the same moment that he’s passing one to you. It’s huge, and you’re sure you’re not the first girl to put it on. You don’t know why you let that thought, borderline jealousy, slip into your mind.

“I’m Suguru, by the way,” he says, slipping his own helmet back onto his head and slinging one long leg over the vehicle. “What do they call you?”

“Oh, uh,” you’re taken aback, finding yourself staring dumbfoundedly. You tell him your name and he nods, repeating it to make sure he’s saying it right.

“Nice,” he starts up the bike and it immediately begins gutting out noises from the tiny engine. “So, you getting on?”

“On what?” you say idiotically, before you gasp and walk to join him. “I mean- sorry, tired.”

“Quite alright,” he says, but there’s a smile in his voice. “Just hop on, and hold onto me as tight as you can.”

You obey his instructions, gently sliding down on the leather seat and leaning forward, pressing your small chest to his back. It’s solid and tense through his shirt, and you slowly wrap your arms around his stomach, feeling like your heart is going to pound right through his spinal cord.

You’d never ridden on one of these before, and to be honest you aren’t sure you’re past the “sleeping at a stranger’s house” thing, but it’s too late to go back now.

He puts the bike in reverse to allow himself some room to take off. You link your fingers over his lap, palms pressing against his abdomen. The whole ordeal feels so intimate; you’re grateful that he cannot see your, no doubt, reddened face.

And then it’s like a flash, you’re on the interstate, lights passing by and wind prickling every inch of your skin.

Suguru wastes no time zooming across the lanes, but you can tell he’s being cautious, not going as fast as he could. It’s probably because of you, you think, and you’re grateful because of the way your stomach is in knots.

Although, your body against his, the revving of his bike, the feeling of people’s eyes on you both as you tread through traffic has your cunt thumping - absolutely wrecked and desperate to be relieved. You’re glad your anxiety is dissipating, but you hadn’t expected it to morph into lust.

Suguru finally makes the stop, as promised, to grab takeout. The food and the two of you manage to make it to his flat in one piece. He resides in a small brownstone with big windows, which seems a little out of character for what you know about him so far.

He parks his motorcycle out front, locking it up securely, before taking off his helmet and instructing you to do the same.

“My hair probably looks insane,” you say as the helmet slides off, knowing it has a tendency to be flattened when you wear hats.

“Looks better, in my opinion,” Suguru nods, reaching out to take the backpack from you as well as the takeout bag. “Let’s go before the monkeys around here try to snatch our food.”

“Monkeys…?” you repeat softly, inquiring silently about his choice of insult but not pressing him on it.

Inside, you’re in awe at the sheer organization and cleanliness for it to be a man’s home. The open concept is welcoming, a beautiful arch separating the kitchen from the living room. You take in his massive kitchen space and your fingers suddenly ache to bake something, a small and secret hobby of yours.

“It’s nice in here,” you say softly, glancing around and hugging your arms.

“What’d you expect? A cold, dusty basement?” He laughs and sits the takeout containers on the coffee table, before shrugging his backpack to the floor and hanging his helmet on a peg on the wall.

While he takes your helmet from your hands, you nod at him. “Yes, actually. I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t going to kill me.”

He sighs and checks himself in the circular mirror that hangs behind his couch. You can tell he takes pride in his appearance, adjusting his hair and allowing a single strand to fall over his forehead.

“At least your last meal will be good,” he jokes, glancing at you in the mirror.

When you freeze and don’t reply, he turns and puts his hands up.

“All jokes,” he assures. “C’mon. Let’s eat.”

And so it goes. You sit side by side on the couch, Suguru keeping a respectful distance. You face one another and you have one leg tucked under you as you poke your fork into your goat curry, careful not to let it drop onto his suede couch.

“So, what brought you into town?” Suguru questions, dipping his naan into his tikka masala, also making a clear effort not to spill.

“Concert,” you admit between bites, covering your mouth. “I planned to drive here and back home on the same day, that’s why I didn’t think I’d need to make arrangements. Stupid shitbox.”

Suguru laughs. “Well, the shitbox brought us two lonely souls together, if only for the night, so perhaps there’s some beauty in it.”

“How poetic,” you joke. “Do you have any hobbies besides… cars?”

Suguru considers for a moment, “I like to kick kittens and slaughter entire villages.”

“Ah, I definitely sensed that,” you nod sarcastically. “Me, on the other hand, I like to do lame shit like bake and crochet.”

“You like to bake, hm?” he inquires, just as a piece of masala paste drips onto his chin.

“Yeah,” you say, not bothering to break into the sob story of how it’s like therapy for you - how you’d discovered you were good at it and now, every chance you get you’re kneading dough and playing in flour.

Suguru hums. “You’ll have to bake me something when you’re in town again.”

Your hand suddenly comes up and you find your thumb swiping the masala paste off of his face. “Will do,” you say quietly.

Suguru freezes under your touch and side-eyes your hand, before turning to you as you quickly pull it away.

“Sorry, I’m a messy eater,” he says, grinning slyly, eyes darkened.

You swallow thickly and clean your thumb on a napkin. “All good. Just uh, didn’t want to embarrass you.”

He smiles a bit. “Aren’t you a sweet thing?”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t think that means I can’t still fight.”

“We still on this kidnapping kick?” He sighs. “After I shared my sacred Indian restaurant with you and everything.”

“Sacred?” you scoff. “Do you always share your favorite restaurant with girls you meet on the side of the road?”

“Well, you’re the first girl I’ve met on the side of the road,” he corrects. “So, yes, I guess I do. I’ll have to switch it up next time.”

You roll your eyes at his arrogance, and then decide you’re satisfied with your meal. “Alright, well I think it’s about time to turn in.”

“Right,” he nods. “You gonna sleep in that?” His long finger extends and points to your skirt, and you stare at the digit like a brat in heat, before shaking your head.

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” you say. “Obviously.”

“I know that, monkey.” Suguru narrows his eyes at you. “I have clothes for you.”

“Right,” you grit, “and don’t call me that.”

He doesn’t answer and instead rises from the couch, gathering all of your trash and taking it to the kitchen to throw it away. He quickly washes his hands and then gestures for you to follow him down the hall.

“Your home is lovely,” you say as you walk after him, examining his hallway that bares no pictures of anyone except himself and a boy with white hair.

“Thank you,” he says blankly, pushing open his bedroom door and saying - “Alexa, turn the light on.”

You giggle at the fact that he owns an Alexa, but don’t comment on it.

Once inside of his bedroom, he begins to paw through his dresser. The room reflects him: gold and black, skateboards and a golden helmet mounted to the wall. His bed is a dark abyss of black blankets and a tall headboard with warm white lighting behind it. It smells of eucalyptus and lotion.

“So like I said,” he clears his throat, “you can sleep in here. I’ll be on the couch.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out of your own bed,” you object.

“Well, I’m certainly not putting you on the couch,” he argues. “But if you wanna sleep with me, just say that.”

You nearly feel your body explode into tiny pieces. The heat that had been present in your chest the first time he’d taken his helmet off has returned, but you have to shake it off.

“I’ll take the bed, alone. Thank you,” you hold a hand up and roll your eyes. “Dickhead.”

Suguru doesn’t say another word, but his face has stretched into a small, devious smile as he tosses a white shirt at you, plus a pair of pink shorts with candy hearts on them.

“Why the hell do you own these?” you ask in complete surprise, noting how they still have the tag on them.

“My best friend made me buy and wear them as a dare,” he says. “But they couldn’t fit all of my curves, go figure. I’ve been saving them for a rainy day.”

“Right,” you say, not believing such a story, but you don’t want to consider the true possibility that they belong to someone else. Not, you might add, that it should matter.

“My bed is nice and clean, ready to go. Charger is on the nightstand. Towels are in the bathroom.” He walks towards you and glances down at the clothes in your hands. “And feel free to ransack my kitchen, or bake or whatever, if you get hungry. I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.”

You look up at him. At this proximity, you can see the details in his irises, smell his musk, feel the heat on his body. You realize just how cold his bed is going to be, how strange it’s going to feel sleeping alone in an unfamiliar bedroom.

“Thanks,” you say softly, pulling your eyes away from him - but you know he’s already caught you staring.

“Goodnight,” he says, and you bid him the same before going to leave the room.

However, your foot gets caught on the plush black rug on the floor and you miss a beat - falling into him. His hand comes out immediately to stabilize you both and your body responds to his thick palm spreading out over your hip.

“Gotta be more careful, baby,” he murmurs, sliding his hand over the jean material of your skirt, allowing it to linger before separating himself from you.

You can’t even speak out of embarrassment. You aren’t sure he intended for you to hear the pet name, so it’s best you don’t comment on it. You spin on your heel and bolt out of the room, heading to the bathroom to shower.

When you return, smelling like fresh dove soap, Suguru has vanished. You see that the living room lights are off; he must already be sleeping.

When you settle into his bed, it’s a little cold, but the smell of a man and shampoo lingering all over the satin material of the sheets manages to comfort you. You don’t lock the door, you don’t even close it. You feel like you can trust him. Maybe you’re naive for it, but you don’t have much time to recant your decision before you drift off to sleep.

S. GETO

Suguru awakes later that night to faint rustling.

His eyes pry open reluctantly, blinking away sleep as he sits up straight, his guard up. He sees the glow from the kitchen, though, and realizes it’s probably just you. He rubs his eyes to fully wake himself before glancing over at the bright digital clock on the wall. 2:20AM.

He frowns. Why would you be in the kitchen at such an ungodly hour? He doesn’t mind, he'd told you to make yourself at home, but seeing how late it is concerns him.

He sneaks his way to the archway of the kitchen, preparing himself to accidentally startle you, but when he sees instead makes his arteries clench.

Pretty little you stands in front of the open fridge, back arched as you browse inside. The boyshorts he’d given you hug your body deliciously, accentuating the shape of your ass, and outlining your ever-so-juicy lips.

Suguru thinks back to when he’d first seen you sitting helplessly in your car. He’d of course thought you were sexy, but above that, beautiful. Your features fit you perfectly. His appreciation for your looks make his blood pump faster; this time, the blood is just pumping to the wrong place.

He continues to lean against the arch to the kitchen, cloaked in the shadows of the frame like a creep. You retreat from the fridge holding a stick of butter and navigate your way to the island - which is covered in dough and flour.

Are you really baking at 2 in the morning?

He likes seeing you so focused, carefully dropping the stick into a bowl, mashing it with a spoon.

Then, you perk up a bit. Suguru suspects you’ve sensed his gaze when your face flushes immediately, your body freezing. Then, you glance over at him, your seductive eyes locking into him in a way that makes his chest feel you’ve just taken a grip on his heart.

He holds his breath, unsure what kind of reaction you are going to have.

"Oh, did I wake you?" you ask finally, tone slightly nervous, eyes unable to stay in one spot.

"No," he lies, shaking his head. "I woke up to use the bathroom, but I saw the light on and wanted to..." Make sure you were okay. "Make sure I wasn't getting robbed."

You laugh. A soft melody that makes him feel obsessed and pathetic.

"You're half right," you say with an apologetic shrug. "You're definitely going to need more eggs when I'm finished."

Suguru chuckles and peels himself from the doorway, walking towards the island where you stand with the butter wrapper in your hand. He watches your demeanor shift as you sit the wrapper on the floury surface.

"So, should I call in report of an egg thief?" Suguru teases, stopping next to you.

Your eyes take a moment to meet his. Your gaze had been lingering on his bare chest; of which he’d forgotten about. He always sleeps shirtless, but he would have put on a shirt out of respect for you, had he known you’d be up together like this. He watches your pouty lips part, and he grows desperate to read your mind.

When you finally look at his eyes, Suguru has to swallow down his primal instincts. Something about the way you look - peaked nipples poking through the thin material of his shirt, areolas slightly visible, dumbfounded expression from you not realizing how close you are to being pinned to the damn island.

"I'll buy you another carton after my car is fixed," you murmur timidly. "I have night terrors and baking always calms me down after having them. I should have asked before just using your kitchen.”

Suguru just stares when your ramble comes to a conclusion. "Sounds like you're apologizing, but there's no need for that." He leans forward, putting a hand on the island, realizing just how awfully, deliciously he towers over your frame. How easily he could overpower you. “I told you that I didn’t mind. What was your dream about?”

You seem to shut down at his question though, timidness entering your features as you turn your head from him. “It was nothing,” you answer bluntly.

Suguru knows you’re lying, but he doesn’t think it’s his place to press you more.

After a moment of awkward silence, he asks “Alright, what are you baking?”

You seem delighted that he’d asked. You reach towards the oven and pull open the door, revealing a rising pastry on the center rack.

"I made something up with what you had," you shrug. "It's a sort of berry and honey cobbler."

Suguru’s stomach is rumbling already, combined with the pressure in his groin from the cock that threatens to slither out on its own accord. "It looks delicious, how long until it's done?"

You glance up at the clock. "About ten minutes."

"Ah, so I caught you ransacking what was left of my groceries at the perfect time," he teases.

You grin and turn back towards the island, pulling a bowl towards you both that is filled with a red compote. To Suguru’s utter surprise you dip your finger into it, the consistency appearing to be sticky and thick.

"This is the glaze I made for it," you announce softly. "Wanna try some?"

Suguru feels his eyelids drop. He leans forward and strands of his hair fall over his shoulders, shadowing his face to hide the way he feels himself drinking in the sight of you. He doesn’t trust himself to say more than a simple, “Sure.”

"Wait, it's kind of sticky,” you begin. “I'll grab a spoon.”

You turn to search for his drawer of silverware, but Suguru is quicker. He grabs your hand with the drizzled finger and watches as your neck snaps towards him in surprise. Your little doe eyes widen in realization, and there go your plump lips parting again - making it so incredibly easy if Suguru wanted to lean down and sink his teeth into them.

He thinks he might have made a mistake until he sees the mirrored longing in your eyes that he senses has been in his the entire time he’s been in here with you. So it feels like the only right decision now is to course your finger to his lips.

You watch as he parts them and then slowly slides the tip of your finger into his mouth. Whether you realize it or not, you gasp, so needily, and even more so when Suguru gently sucks the honey mixture from your finger - holding eye contact all the while, silently daring you to look away.

He swirls his tongue, knowing full well he’s already finished cleaning it of the sticky mess, just to make his point extra clear. He slides it back out with a pop.

He sees your eyes darken, in the most innocent, yet unknowingly sensual way. His mind begins to swirl with scenarios - him laying you down gently, and ghosting his lips over your naked torso to discover the kind of noises you make or contrarily; tossing you down and taking a handful of that beautiful hair, before delivering a series of the longest, hardest, sloppiest strokes you can possibly take.

"Is it... good?" you ask, your dry voice breaking his thoughts away from the blood rushing towards his pancreas.

"Delicious," Suguru breathes out, barely recognizing his own faraway voice, "have you tried it?"

You shake your head slightly, as if sensing his trap. “Not yet…”

"Hmm," he says aloud, dropping your hand and taking his fingers under your chin. "You’re so good at this.”

“A-Am I? I’ll have to try it before the cobbler is done,” you ramble nervously, clearly shying away from his touch, but he maintains his hold on your chin.

He doesn’t know what it is about you that has him so whipped in this short time. He feels so lost in his uncontrollable desire for you.

“I can give you a taste,” he finds himself whispering, faces just a few centimeters apart. Your body is mindlessly molding against his and he knows he’s got you.

You gasp into the small space between the two of you, and at the same perfect moment, he folds and crashes his desperate lips onto yours.

The kiss is hard and unsure at first, but it quickly softens as you surrender to his mouth. You melt into each other so easily, your breasts immediately glazing his torso and awakening chills all along his skin. He takes the closeness as a sign that it’s okay to put his hands on your sides, resting them idly atop the shorts.

Suguru can’t help but to let out a wanton grunt at the feeling of your body under his palms as he uses the pressure of his hands to rotate your positions. Now, your obedient little body is pressed between the island and his cock.

His hands slip under your thighs, which elicits a gasp from you. You break away from the kiss momentarily to stare at him as he effortlessly lifts you into the air and then plants your bottom on the island.

You both gasp as a cloud appears, but Suguru finds himself unable to care that he’s just plopped you down into a pile of flour. He doesn’t waste any time kissing you again, but he only remains on your lips for a short time before he connects wet, sloppy kisses down your jaw - and your hands slide desperately into the roots of his hair.

You spread your legs, inviting him to stand between, and Suguru feels his body jerk when you lock your calves into his sides. He moves his mouth back to yours and licks your lower lip, before sliding his tongue into your mouth and taking yours around it.

You clamp your teeth down on the muscle and suck on it like a little deviant - and it makes Suguru’s eyebrows furrow in sexual frustration. He needs you horribly, awfully.

He tastes the honey on your breath, sweet and dangerous, and his mind begins to cook up a disgusting idea. His fingers entangle in the shirt you wear, and the hem begins to rise over your stomach as he tugs it upwards.

“Suguru?” you mumble into his mouth, prompting him to reluctantly break the kiss.

“Mmh, do you want this?” he murmurs into your ear, loosening his grip on your shirt to prepare for the possibility that you’re going to say no.

Instead, you mutter ‘yes’ shamelessly quick, and in a white flash the shirt is poof - disregarded.

Suguru tries not to allow his eyes to bug out like a teenage boy who’s never seen breasts, but he feels himself failing miserably - even worse when his hands slither up to cup them, angling your nipples towards his face.

Your little body writhes, air escaping from your throat in the form of an encouraging gasp. Suguru grins and waits a moment before releasing them. The memories of his hands on your body appear in the form of powdery handprints, the both of you utterly covered in flour without a single care.

“Hmph,” you pout, and Suguru resists the urge to smack his hand across your nipple to put you in check - but there’s no telling if you’d enjoy that as much as he would.

“Hold still f’me,” he mutters, reaching behind you for the bowl of syrupy compote.

He feels your gaze burning into the side of his face as he pulls the bowl closer to your hips and dips his thumbs into the mixture. You can’t see this in real time as he does it, so your eyes look dumb and shocked when he brings his hands back towards your chest.

“I like causing pain,” Suguru blurts suddenly, holding his thumbs out and aligning them with your nipples. “Can I be a little mean to you, angel?”

You swallow, nearly gulping, but with reluctance you’re nodding in agreement.

“Words,” Suguru quips, pressing his body hard into yours to drive the message home.

“Y-Yeah,” you say and to his surprise, you add: “I also… like that kind of thing.”

“Mmm,” Suguru groans out. “Knew you were too good to be true.”

And with that, his thumbs are smearing your sweet little mix onto the buds of your chest - keeping them painfully erect as more syrup covers the areolas entirely.

You’re moaning just from his touch; he’s so impatient to hear the foul cries you’ll make when he’s clamping his teeth onto your sensitive nipples.

He sucks the remaining syrup off of each thumb, and then before you can question him, he latches his mouth onto your right nipple with desperation.

He can feel the bumps rise on your skin from the intimacy, your perfect body arching against him as he swirls his tongue hungrily. His lips purse as he uses his tongue to suck the skin raw and clean.

Your mouth is so dangerously close to his face, soft pants falling directly into his ear canal. He takes this as encouragement as his teeth sink into your nipple and his left hand strikes a heavy palm against your other.

The way you jerk in response is so pathetic, Suguru nearly laughs at you. Earlier, you were so helpless and scared - you’d been pretending to be tough, and now he has you so needy and submissive that it’s comical.

“Mmh,” you mumble into his ear, “again, please.”

Your little cunt must be so wet for him now. He wants to dip his fingers into your juice and force you to eat it, but he knows these things come one step at a time. He’s just so ready, so impatient. And he can tell you’re equally as ready.

He obeys you, just this once, smacking your breast again, his hand getting covered in the sticky compote. He breaks away from your right breast, deciding it’s time to clean off the other.

“That feel good?” he questions, though he knows based on your furrowed eyebrows and toes subconsciously clinging to the back of his legs that it does.

“Y-yes,” you grit, tugging his hair, causing him to growl. “Why’d you stop?”

“Patience is a virtue,” Suguru mutters, blowing cool air over your sticky nipple, flicking it slightly with his tongue and smacking his lips to taste the syrup.

“N-No,” you shake your head desperately, pleading. “Keep going.”

Suguru ponders on it, but ultimately he gives you what you want, though not without smacking your thigh harshly - making you yelp. He can’t speak with his tongue caressing the ring of your nipple so he communicates his threats for you to remember your place in the form of impactful hits. He cracks one on your abandoned right breast, and he knows it stings more because of his saliva that remains all over it. You whine in his ear and it only encourages him.

“Harder, you say?” he questions, detaching his mouth.

Now, his hands are coming down in rapid-fire. Crack, crack, crack. Your knees are bound to leave bruises on his hips with the way they’re digging into his skin. He’s growling now, unable to help himself. Your nipples feel so good on his tongue, and he can still taste the delicious honey mix. He wants to drizzle it all over you, make you into a writhing, sticky mess as he sucks it off.

YOUR POV.

Your cunt is pounding so badly, you can nearly feel the heat radiating off of it and landing directly on Suguru’s stomach as he sits up straight and looks down at you. His lips are wet and sticky, his hair stuck to his forehead. He looks so fucked, so hopeless. You’re equally as entranced, so caught up in his beauty, in the way his tongue feels, needing more.

You open your mouth to speak, but Suguru catches your lips with his own, and then his arms wrap around your body. He kisses you ferociously, berry and honey hot on his breath, before he takes his hand underneath your ass and lifts you effortlessly into the air. You’re forced to gasp into his mouth and he catches your sound with his tongue, encapsulating yours in it, lathering it up in his spit.

Just as Suguru begins to haul you away, the oven beeps. You groan into each other’s mouth as your heads break apart, and you lean onto his shoulder.

“Fuck, I forgot all about the cobbler,” you whisper against him.

He makes a noise of frustration before releasing you from his grip, your legs sliding down his body. He catches you by your hips, oversized hands holding you like a fragile piece of art. You bite your lip as you hesitantly part from him, and he watches you with patience for a moment before he heads to the fridge.

As you rip open the oven door, grab an oven mitt, and pull the pastry out with frustration, Suguru equips a cup of ice. You don’t think too much of it as you sling the pan onto the stove top before turning off the oven and nearly bolting back to Suguru, who instead of lifting you up, guides you by his free hand to the living room.

“Do you still want to do this?” Suguru questions, pulling you in front of him, until you find yourself standing in the dark with your back to the sectional.

There’s a small red light emitting from the corner of the room, illuminating his skin and making him look so terrifyingly beautiful. As you stand below him, you’ve decided you’d let him rip your guts apart if that’s what he requested.

“So much,” you say softly. Without any more instruction, you find yourself sinking onto the couch. “I hope you don’t think—”

“Think what?” Suguru interrupts, crouching in front of you, the ice in his cup shaking as he goes to place it down. “I have nothing negative to say about you. Besides, we’re having fun, aren’t we, pretty girl?”

Your cunt throbs at the pet name again. Your hands fly out, a little to your own surprise and land on his shoulders.

“Suguru, I…” the confession is shy on your lips for a moment, but you must let it be known. “I need you.”

“Mmm,” Suguru purrs, taking the cup of ice back into his hand, “How bad?”

“So bad,” you beg. “Please, no teasing.”

Suguru laughs at you and the noise sends another rush of adrenaline to your hole, now the material of his shorts is coated with your juices.

“It’s a shame we don’t have more time to learn about each other,” he coos. “You would know that I’m incapable of not teasing, especially when you sound so cute asking me for what you want, and I know that I can deny you.”

“Hngh, no,” you whine. “Don’t torture me like that.”

Suguru just laughs again, and you notice now that he has removed a piece of ice from the cup. He holds it in one hand, while his free hand comes up to your bare chest, applying a small amount of pressure to push you flush against the back of the couch.

You gasp as you find yourself leaning back, then Suguru is grabbing your hips, dragging them to the edge of the couch.

“Hm, you’re a little hot,” he observes, hand sliding up your leg and resting underneath the hem of the shorts. “I’ve gotta cool you down.”

“O-Oh?” you stutter, keeping your feet on the ground even though you fully suspect that Suguru is about to instruct you to do the opposite.

Instead, he sits up on his knees, still managing to tower over you because of how insanely long-legged he is. Your eyes watch lustfully as he pops the ice between his perfect lips and then clamps onto it with his teeth. He’s forcing you to keep your eyes on him with his own purple stare, then, his mouth reattaches to yours.

He drags the ice over your bottom lip, head moving slowly from side to side, and you shiver like a white in heat. The cold, cold ice leaves a wet trail behind as he pulls it down the side of your face, over a sensitive vein on your neck, then the outline of your collarbone.

Your back arches off of the couch, and you’re clawing desperately at his skin. He’s pretending not to notice as he’s continuing his trip down the map of your body, seeming to know it like the back of his hand even though he hardly knows you.

The ice slides over the peak of your breast agonizingly slow. Your nipples, still painfully erect, are sore from the events that had taken place moments ago - but Suguru doesn’t care.

He swirls that ice over them, even as you writhe and shake your head no, nails breaking open the skin on his trap muscles. His hair brushes your sternum, creating goosebumps, eliciting more purrs and gasps from your throat. Every part of you is responding to him, from your pulsing cunt, to your heart, to your collagen.

“Holy shit,” you whisper from above, and he grunts a little response before the ice finds your other abused nipple, teasing it softly before he applies full pressure with the melting ice, leaving your nipples sore and soaked.

You’re shivering uncontrollably now, breaths only able to come out in the form of short, quickened pants. Suguru’s showing no mercy. He’s approaching your belly button with the ice.

The ice is nearly gone, but now Suguru’s hands are sliding up underneath your squishy thighs, fingertips pressing into the flesh as he folds them up towards your face.

You gasp as his head has quickly jumped from your stomach to the heat between your legs. He dips forward and plants an extremely fat, cold kiss to the cloth of his shorts.

“S-Suguru,” you whimper out, but he’s too busy swirling what's left of the ice over the material, nearly eating you out through the garment.

You can’t take the torture. Your hands have fallen from his shoulders but now they’re dug into his hair like the reins on a horse, attempting to snatch him back up, but he’s so lost in his own pleasure he doesn’t budge.

“Shut up,” he grunts, the movement of his mouth making you squirm.

The second your body arches off of the couch, Suguru has his hands slid under the shorts and is dragging them down your legs. Without a change of underwear, you’d chosen to go commando, so the minute the shorts are off - your cunt winks him in the eye.

You fight the urge to shy away. Even as your legs begin to close, Suguru stops you immediately, hands coming up the inside of your thighs and applying pressure to your knees.

“Be good, slut, if you want to be able to cum,” he murmurs, turning back momentarily to grab his ice again.

You’re already shivering at the thought of the cold contact. Suguru pops a piece into his mouth and stares up at you as he moves it between his cheeks, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue to show you the ice inside with a smirk.

You stare down at him in awe and surprise, until he completely distracts you when the coldness of his wet mouth makes contact with your clit. Just a small brush of his lips, but it’s enough to have you begging him for more.

“Please, more,” you cry, and Suguru laughs against your cunt.

He drags the tip of the ice between your folds, the metal of his lip rings simultaneously sliding on the inside of your lips. It feels incredible, every inch of the nerves at your core being tainted and overwhelmed.

Your heels are planted flat on his shoulders, and he’s grunting like some kind of wild animal ripping apart the flesh of its prey while the squelches of your cunt respond to him whorishly.

Suguru pops the ice back in his mouth and is now flicking your clit with his icy tongue, keeping the ice in his cheek while he works ecstasy through your bundle of nerves.

And just when you start rolling your hips in time with his tongue, he pulls away. He sucks on the ice while looking you in the eye and then, smack! His palm lands on your unsuspecting cunt and you scream.

It stings. Your clit is so sensitive from the ice already, but Suguru knows that. You know he does. Once the sting dissolves, your body begins to feel the pleasure that comes with pain.

“Hah - Suguru, fuck,” you mumble out. You’re slowly starting to have enough of the foreplay.

“Hm? What?” he questions, cocking his head like he’s got no clue what he’s doing.

“Please,” you say, not directly asking for what you want, letting the end of your sentence hang in the air.

Suguru fakes a yawn, “Sorry, I don’t know how to understand dumb little angels who can’t use their words.”

You frown and attempt to kick him, but he catches your foot, and at the same moment you see him swallow what was left of the ice in his mouth.

“Tsk tsk,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Bad kitty.”

You don’t have time to squirm away before he’s sitting up, taking your body into the air, and then slamming you back down onto the couch. You lay long ways now, head resting on the corner of the sectional, and Suguru creeps over you like a panther.

His bare chest rubs your own and he dips his head into your neck, lips still freezing and glazed over with spit. He drags his mouth over your pulse, pinning your arms above your head as you try to slither from below him.

“Say what’s on your mind,” he murmurs against your ear canal, “don’t keep secrets from me, monkey.”

“Hngh - don’t fucking call me that,” you grit, attempting to knee him in the stomach but he’s using all of his body weight to keep you down.

You lay completely naked and helpless below him, attempting to grind your sulking cunt over the clear bulge in his pajama pants. He keeps kissing your neck, grunting softly in your ear to make you feel worse about the fact that you are restrained - and denied his cock.

“What do you want?” he purrs, ghosting the tips of his top teeth over your jaw. “Speak up.”

You’re a muddled, moaning mess and he knows it - but you manage to mumble out a pathetic, “Your cock, Suguru.”

“Already? We just met,” he coos, tracing the shape of your cheek with his fingertip.

“Shut up,” you growl at him, wishing you could grip him by his bulge to show him what it’s like to be repeatedly teased and denied.

As if reading your mind, he releases one of your hands and quickly smacks the side of your thigh, then sinks his nails into the stinging skin to keep you from making another snotty threat.

“Watch your tone,” he directs, and then lifts your leg so that it rests against the back of the couch. “Be a good girl and wait right here, and keep your legs open.”

He lifts himself off of you, but not before he dips his head and spits a thick glob of glistening saliva on your cunt, walking away while the fluid slides through your folds.

You lay there in fear of punishment, unmoving, taking the time to catch your breath.

And then, when he returns moments later, you lay there still obediently sprawled out. He’s ripping a condom wrapper open with his teeth, and his cock is sliding through his hand.

You gasp. Despite it being mostly dark in the living room, you can see that his dick stretches nearly the length of your own forearm, all while glistening with his spit. Suguru catches your appalled face and smirks in the dark.

“Didn’t your mommy ever teach you that it’s rude to stare?” he questions, leaning over you as he rolls the condom onto his cock.

Your eyes are having a hard time prying themselves away, but you succeed when he leans down and presses a deep kiss to your lips, practically eating your mouth off of your face. He bites down on your bottom lip and grunts heavy breaths into your mouth as he finishes adjusting himself.

You lick his lip rings like a desperate slut. Your hands remain above your head as if he’s still holding them down; you’re disgusted at just how obedient he’s made you out to be in a short time.

Now he’s crawling over you again. But before you give him time to get settled, your mouth blurts a request.

“Put the helmet on,” you say meekly, watching as Suguru’s pierced eyebrows knit together in surprise.

“My motorcycle helmet?” he questions, and you nod. “Wow, trying to say I’m too ugly to stare at?”

You groan and roll your eyes. “N-No, I just, um… nevermind.” You don’t want to admit how the idea of him in his helmet makes you even wetter.

Luckily though, Suguru read your mind.

“You’re a nasty little thing, aren’t you?” he questions, and you notice how his hand slithers up to the wall, and acutely plucks the helmet off of its peg.

“Hmph,” you shake your head. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You tilt your chin up defiantly and watch as he slides it over his face, adjusting the strap and closing the glass visor. Now, it’s just you and your reflection staring at one another, and you can see your poor body all marked up from Suguru’s impactful slaps.

It makes your cunt throb so unbelievably fast, and you think you’ll wither away if you have to go another minute without Suguru pumping inside of you.

“This was a great idea,” he says, voice raspier and deeper from the other side of the mask. “Now, it’s time to stretch you out, baby.”

You gulp. You aren’t sure you’ll be able to survive his cock. But you want to try. All that rumbles through your mind is getting it inside of you, of feeling the burn as it threatens to break through to your stomach.

“Please,” you whine, “I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Hmm, I guess you’ve been good enough,” he ponders aloud, and now his two thick arms are on either side of your head.

He’s letting your hands stay free, to your surprise, and you take advantage of it by dragging your nails down his torso. He momentarily falters, but then he’s pressing the tip of his cock to your folds - sliding it down, lathering it in your slick. Your toes curl, your knees find themselves on his hips. You stop and sink your nails into his pecs to threaten him, but he’s unmoved.

“Didn’t I tell you to be patient?” he questions, shoving his hips forward so that you feel a faint amount of pressure on your clit, and then it disappears as he pulls away.

“Ngh, how can I be patient?” you cry. “Quit being afraid to fuck me.”

“Afraid?” Suguru laughs and then his hand comes up, palm on your windpipe, fingers pressing pressure into either side of your neck. “You’re the one with fear in your eyes, little monkey. Don’t think you can handle my cock, do you?”

You frown and gasp, attempting to snap back at him, but your voice is cut off as well as your air flow. Suguru gives you no chance to fight before his hips press into you for good this time - and without even using his hands, the crown of his cock is pushing through the threshold of your cunt.

The two of you make mirrored fucked-out noises of desire. You whine as your walls try to stretch around him, but the friction is causing it to burn. You can only attempt a gasp underneath Suguru’s death grip on your throat.

“Mmh, so tense baby,” Suguru purrs, “relax. You can take it.”

You shake your head, or attempt to. Your hand rests on Suguru’s wrist, your fingers digging in to the bone as you attempt to let your body get used to Suguru filling you up. You stare at yourself pathetically, hopelessly in his visor. You can feel his eyes watching you take him, watching your lips part as you attempt to breathe despite him restricting your airflow.

Your elastic walls finally start to contract, allowing Suguru to bottom out. He rests like that for just a moment, barely giving you time to swallow him up before he’s pulling his hips back and entering again.

You moan in time with his long strokes, and he keeps his pace slow until you’ve got him completely slicked up. Now he’s moving in and out of your hole like butter, and you’re crying below him.

“Oh, so fucking good,” he grits, dipping his head closer to you, so you’re forced to keep staring at yourself.

His abdomen glistens as he begins to sweat. Your eyes don’t know where to look; they’re traveling over his sculpted muscles like a pervert in heat. He notices and drums his hips harder into you to throw you off - and your eyes squeeze shut as you’re overrun with pleasure.

You secretly wish you could see the way Suguru’s face is twisted up under his helmet, but somehow, the gift of suspicion is much more thrilling. Feeling like you have no idea who’s fucking your guts up makes you even wetter. Suguru can tell, and he’s using all of your juices to his advantage. You’re dripping all over his expensive couch while neither of you find time to care.

“Agh - Suguru, please!” you shriek, knees falling closer to your chest.

Suguru takes his hand off of your throat before tucking each hand underneath your thighs, pinning them to your chest, cockhead hitting a new and deeper angle this way.

“Fuck, ‘m so deep,” he mumbles, hips losing their synchrony, strokes becoming sloppier and needier. “God, y’sure you have to go home tomorrow?”

“Mm-mm,” you hum, brain jumbled as he nearly begins to tap your uterus. “Gonna stay here and get fucked forever.”

“So good for me,” Suguru coos, smacking the underside of your thigh and hastening his pace. “So fucking good.”

“Hah - so deep,” you comment, attempting to use your hands to press on his chest, but it means nothing when Suguru is overpowering you with his hold on your legs.

Your arms fall limp, and you accept defeat as your cervix gets rammed over and over and over - nasty, wet noises engulfing the air as you squeeze yourself around Suguru for his pleasure.

“Feel you pulsing,” Suguru grits, “don’t do that…”

You pretend not to hear him and keep flexing your muscles, and the veins in his cock tap against your spongey walls in response.

“Suguru,” you pant, “Suguru, Suguru. Let me ride you.”

He hums and keeps pumping, “You want to get on top, naughty girl? Wanna make me feel good?”

“Y-Yes, please,” you beg, opening your eyes and staring in the direction of what you assume are his eyes on the other side of the helmet visor.

“Hm, I suppose I’ll allow it,” he tuts, and before you know it, he’s sliding out of you and you’re cold and empty inside. You need him back deep inside of you, so you waste no time sitting up the minute he lets go of you.

Suguru laughs, a piercing noise that disrupts the silence in the room. “You’re dripping all over my suede, pretty girl. Gonna be able to smell your mark, even when you’re gone.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t deny the heat in your cheeks as you slither into a standing position, switching with Suguru as he sits back on the couch and opens his arms for you.

Your stomach lurches with butterflies at the simple, intimate gesture. You crawl onto his lap, straddling him, and his arms engulf you in a bear hug. You lean forward to align yourself with his cock, and then, you’re reaching for his length and peeling the condom right off.

Suguru’s back arches off of the couch at the overstimulating feeling - and he gasps underneath his helmet. “Mm, you want it raw?”

“Wanna feel the real thing,” you say desperately, tossing the wet condom onto the floor with your lustful brain disregarding the dangers of it.

“A person who takes what she wants,” Suguru taps the chin of his helmet thoughtfully. “I like it.”

You don’t answer him because you’re too busy aligning your hole with his now dry cock and slicking it back up in a mix of your juices and his precum.

Now it’s your turn to make him writhe, and he does, his thigh muscles flexing under you - his hands breaking open the skin in your back.

Then you’re shoving him back inside of you, and it takes you no time to slide down the complete length. You lean forward, hands on his chest, moaning as you readjust to him for a second time.

“Oh, Y/N,” Suguru chirps, “you fit me so well, don’t you?” And then he’s hitting you on your sensitive nipple again, before taking it between his index and thumb, pinching and applying painful pressure.

“So well,” you repeat mindlessly, pussy swallowing him up to his balls, before raising your hips again in the same motion that feels pleasurable to you.

Suguru helps you by sliding his hands to your hips, showering you in dirty praises like so tight, nasty slut, perfect for me.

S. GETO

You feel so good, snugly wrapped around him, dripping all down his cock like a needy mess. Your face is so beautiful when it’s fucked out, as you focus on trying to take all of him.

You’d done so good, taking all his hits and teasing, the least he can do is let you use his cock for your pleasure. And it’s his pleasure, indeed, to do so.

He hums as he watches you from the other side of his visor, your breasts bouncing in his face, your lip snapped under your teeth. It’s everything he can do to prevent himself from filling you up with cum so soon - but you’re making it so hard.

He’d have never guessed you’d end up like this when he’d rescued you. He’d honestly just been trying to be a polite samaritan, but he isn’t going to knock the situation the two of you have found yourselves in.

He notices that you’ve started panting harder, your hips have gotten slower. You’re wearing down, but based on your pulsing cunt around him, you’re close.

Well, that just won’t do.

He takes his hands and goes in for your hips, trying to bite down his primal instincts when you whine pathetically in response. He takes you and lifts you up off of him, and you nearly shriek as his cock plops out of you and lands erect against his stomach.

You stare down at him in horror, “Suguru, I was so close!”

“I know, I’m not an amateur,” he teases, before he shoves you back down onto his cock and uses his grip on your hips to slide you up and down on it like you’re just a fucktoy.

Your eyes roll to the whites, and you start moaning again, unable to argue with him - until he repeats the process and rips you up off of his cock again.

“Stop!” you cry out, hands flying up to his shoulders and clawing at them, as if that’ll make a difference.

Suguru smirks under his disguise and plops you back down, not even half way before he’s taking you off again.

By now, you’re catching on, but he still recognizes how close you must be to cumming.

You barely let out soft moans now, all of your noises coming out harsh and frustrated. He thinks it’s cute when you try to threaten him, or cuss at him.

“You wanna cum?” Suguru asks you, eyebrow raised, though he knows you can’t see it.

“God, please,” you beg, staring at him as hard as you can, and he knows you’re trying hard to find his eyes.

He decides to help you out when he takes the helmet off, shaking his hair free. Now he looks up at you, taking in your face without his visor in the way. You’re so desperate to be back down on his cock but he holds you at tip length, just kissing the inside of your cunt.

He takes one of his hands to your throat, but this time he’s gentle. He applies enough pressure to bring your face towards him, but not enough to cut off your air like last time. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, distracting you, making you melt and whimper.

Dumb little brat.

The minute your body softens and you’re leaning your chest against him, purring in his ear, he starts drilling his hips up harshly against your thighs. His cocktip kisses the end of your pussy and each time he hits the squishy barrier, you bite down on his earlobe.

You’re so good for him, he thinks. He has to convince you not to leave - but he knows that’s selfish. He doesn’t care, because he needs your cunt all to himself, whenever he wants it.

“You got it, pretty girl,” Suguru coos, fucking into you as mean as he can.

His arms wrap around you and you hold onto each other like you’re free falling from the sky - whining and moaning and hissing and cussing until finally, your pretty cunt pulses rapidly around him and then quenches as you begin to cum.

Suguru feels his own orgasm overcoming him and he starts to pull you off of him - but you fight back.

“I-It’s okay, you can cum inside,” you moan deviously into his earlobe, nearly unable to speak as you cum all over his cock.

Suguru shakes his head violently, though he wants to so bad - he rather glaze your skin with his nut.

“Mmh,” he hums and then overpowers you, flipping you back onto your back before he pulls his cock out of your pussy and strokes his length until it spurts his hot cum all over your belly.

You writhe and roll your hips as it lands on your skin, and Suguru pants heavily as he milks himself for all he’s got. You look so delicious underneath him again, this time slicked up with his semen.

And as if to seal an already perfect experience, you slide your finger through it and then shove it into your mouth, where you slurp it clean.

“Mm, delicious,” you mutter, “have you tried it?”

Suguru chuckles at you before leaning down to kiss you again. “So beautiful covered in my cum, you know that?”

You nod shyly and entangle your hands in his hair. “I admit, you look hot in the helmet, but your hair is too pullable to be hidden away like that.”

Suguru feels his face heat a bit but he plays it off by dipping his head downwards so that you can’t see. “You’re too sweet, gorgeous.”

You pant as a response before saying, “Why’d we do that?”

Suguru freezes. “A-are you regretting it?”

“No,” you answer quickly. “I’ve just never… hooked up with someone before.”

Suguru chuckles. “Well, pretty girl, we don’t have to call this a hookup.”

You smile up at him and then he’s tucking his arms under your back and lifting you up for what feels like the hundredth time.

It isn’t long before Suguru is carrying you to the bedroom and cleaning you off with a cool towel, applying ointment to the raw spots on your skin and serving you a cup of ice water.

He’s trying not to think about you leaving the following morning. Every time he does, his stomach begins to hurt and his chest throbs.

But for now, he has his little rider entangled in his arms like the two of you have known each other for an eternity - and he’s grateful you’ve forgotten about the cobbler you baked, because he can’t bear for you to get out of bed right now.

“How are you feeling?” he questions, noticing your breathing has slowed and you are close to sleep.

“Exhausted,” you mumble sleepily. “Pipe does that to you.”

It’s all he can do to stifle an unearthly laugh at your joke, before he pets your hair until you join each other in sleep.

—

Yall im so sorry this is probably so shitty!

This one was the most requested that’s why it’s going first - I hope it meets your expectations. :]

~ pennjammin

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #suguru geto smut #jujutsu geto #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto x you #geto suguru

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